ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

Just loafin' round the farmhouse, feeling peckish in the dawn,
I ate some coloured mushrooms that were growin' on the lawn.
Then sippin' on me coffee, suddenly I got real taller,
then realised it wasn't me - the house was gettin' smaller.

I freaked out, quickly overcome with claustrophobic feeling,
the walls were closin' in just as me head butted the ceiling.
The floor come up and squashed me knockin' knees beneath me chin,
I crapped me pants and ran outside before I got stuck in.

I called out like a banshee with high pitched sorta cry,
then patted my wee farm house on the roof and said goodbye.
I ran off like a cormorant on hot and sticky tar,
and fled the scene in Aunty Nola's Ford Festiva car.

Then drivin' down the highway with me pupils 6 foot wide,
I cloned meself with Chicko Rolls and stale formaldehyde.
Me clone starts takin' pictures with a little old Box Brownie,
then rips the scabs off two cold beers and passes me a Crownie.

By now I'm seein' in sepia, me head's all warped and hollowed,
me clone starts frothin' at the chops and calls out "Wee bean followed".
The mirrors playin' tricks on him, and gives him such a fright,
he's on the left but it tells him he's drivin' on the right.

Then everything's nostalgic, and it's all slow mo to see,
I realise that I'm me clone, but he's not really me.
I'm in the old time city and I hear a big ships bell,
when Nola wakes up in the back seat - cries out "Far canal!"

And then we're blowin' bubbles tryna open up the door,
while men in bowler hats watch on with gargoyles on the shore.
Then Aunty Nola turns into a giant Moray eel,
and gobbles me, me clone and the Festiva for her meal.

So Aunty Nola's eaten us, a real strange paradox;
just as me clone pulls out some mushies from his soggy socks.

I laughed from beginning to end Marty. Seeing you pat the wee farmhouse on the roof and walking like a cormorant on hot tar will be images I carry in my head all day! Best stay away from mushies and canals for a bit!

Heather

Marty,
I agree with Heather such funny images. I think I could do with some of those mushrooms sometimes!
Great!

Cheers
Dot

Well I never saw that coming Got a good crop of weed up there after all the rain perhaps

I love it - a psychedelic word play and good use of all the prompts as well - Well done Marty - great fun.

Heather wrote:I laughed from beginning to end Marty.

Heather

It's not funny Heather, one of my more serious works of art.

Good crop, Maureen? Dunno . . . where's my plasticine Dunnart??

Undie wacker undie wacker undie wacker ooh aaah

Oh, alright, there were bits where I didn't laugh.

You're a nut Marty!

That's a cracker Marty!!
Definitely one from the deep North mate!!!

Ron

Thanks for my laugh of the day Marty - very clever!

G'day gang,

When we lived at Tabulam, not far from Nimbin, we knew a girl once who loved those those magic mushrooms. Sometimes she would go hunting in the rainforest for hours, looking for them. She brewed a tea one day and a few hours later kept saying there was a little man, dressed all in green, sitting on a rock on the opposite side of the gully wagging his index finger at her and saying "I know what you've been up to." She couldn't understand why we couldn't see him.
One other time she found some mushrooms and brewed them up and was going to wait til nightfall to drink the brew. But she said she could hear them calling her name from inside the fridge and so she couldn't wait.
Don't know what happened to her.....

She's probably in the fridge....