Remember Art of Pouringmyartout? Poor Art is not himself of late. He has virtually disappeared. No matter how much he protests, he still wants more comments for a stupendous record for one post. So I’ve written a little ditty for him. You may express your feelings, good or otherwise, at COMMENT HERE. Click this link and go to Art’s Comment Here post. Thank you.
It began as a small attempt of sorts
Sitting at home in bermuda shorts
Pondering life and everything seedy
Watching men die for the rich and greedy
Quietly he left for the port of Marseilles
Drinking all night, sleeping all day.
Alone in a fresh fish bar eating beef
Two men, a midget and an Arab chief
They were a rather unpleasant sort
Demanded he give them his passport
Suddenly a throng of bad guys appeared
That was the night Art disappeared.
He awoke to a sound, an annoying patter
He knew without seeing what was the matter
Kidnapped, tied, thrown in a ship’s hold
He knew without telling, he was sold
To flesh traders in Africa, or Middle East
A slave in salt mines, or a waiter at least.
The ship sailed through storms and calm seas
Captain from Burma, the crew was Maltese
The men mutinied and helped Art to freedom
They gave him a lift to a seaport in Sweden
Alone in a bar, drinking vodka all night
He awoke the next day to a surprising sight
Soldiers were shouting, gearing up for battle
He asked a man was it Fresno or Seattle?
The soldier shrugged, he didn’t speak English
Art tried Esperanto, the kid could speak Yiddish
They were in Africa, a dangerous region
No problem for the French Foreign Legion.
Art began laughing, “there is no such thing
It was from an old movie with Hope and Bing,
Abbott and Costello, Jerry and Dean,”
He stopped his ranting and making a scene
He didn’t feel funny, he just felt trite
He simply could not get into their fight.
“I’m unfit, legally blind, too overweight,
My lungs are a problem, they always deflate
Have only one kidney, diabetic, flat feet,
Sleep apnea, reflux, allergic to beets.”
“Both knees are gone, must be replaced
Deaf in one ear, lost all sense of taste
Can’t smell, weak bladder, loose lips
Did I tell you I’m waiting for new hips?
Drank radioactive waste water for days
I’m very dangerous as plutonium decays.”
“I’m autistic, retarded, I’m mentally ill
You need a younger man, I’m over the hill
My stomach has ulcers, my bowels don’t work
I’m possessed by satan, I could go berserk
I have been in worse health, lousier shape
If I pay you, will you help me escape?”
He was promptly driven to a port in Dakar
He promised he would not drink in a bar
Hopped a freighter going to Calcutta
Senegal pirates fired shots from a cutter
Art took the helm, ran over their boat
Ran over them twice in case they could float.
The Captain pleased, offered him money
Crew was acting weird, acting kind of funny
Art sensed he was headed for trouble
He ran like hell, ran on the double
Jumped overboard, he dropped like a stone
Art sinking, would he ever see home?
Slowly he woke, his face in the sand
It took a long time for him to understand
A water geyser threw him clear of the sea
To a beach near where he wanted to be
The moral of this, all that one can say
Don’t eat beef in a fish bar in Marseilles.