*"New Segment" Ask Poly: (Got his ear to the wall...)

Dear Poly,

With a baby on the way, will Brad and Angelina begin a new chapter together?

Concerned in Oregon


Well Concerned,

That's an important question,
but first, may a drive a fucking stake through your eye and make it come out of your ear? Because- who really gives a fuck?


Dear Poly,

Who does your hair, It's so sleek and well groomed,


Sincerely,
Your Mother


Aww Mom,

You've always been so good to me, but if I told you,
I'd have to kill you- so don't ask.

PS, I tried to visit you for your birthday, but the guards turned me away-
I guess your back in solitary again? Who'd you beat up now?

Love your son,
Polyman2.



Howdy Poly,

Is it true that Brokeback Mountain, one of this century's most important and poignant movies, was actually based on real life events?
I just loved everything about that movie-
What emotion! What depth! What penis!

Your little doggie,
Brett Brickbutt (Binghole, Montana)


Whoa Brette,

This is hot! You put your finger on it, and it felt good!
Brokeback Mountain is actually based on a real life situation that happened way back in 1825 by none other than that wild west hero, Buffalo Bill Cody and the big Indian Chief Sitting Bull.
Now you may think that's a lot of bull, but no shit- it's true, and they actually got married. And guess where they full filled their vows? That's right- you guessed it- Brokeback Mountain, Wyoming- a gay (or back in cowboy times -pansy) resort.
It's a gripping tail of love, yearning, horse riding, bj's, cornholing, humming, yodeling with your mouth full, sadness, loss, sheep, dick jokes...
all the elements of a great 21st century reality show!
We'll, I hope I answered your question- you queer son of a bitch!

Keep in touch,
Poly. xxx

ps. I'm not gay

Dickhead.

Hide the porn.

Your All Fucking Al-Qaida!

It's all legal, so Bush says.
Secret domestic spying is fun and full of laughs!
I mean, if you could, you would , right?
It's not like we're breaking the law or anything.
Besides, we all love a good reality show.

You got the boys from the FBI & CIA
rolling in the isles of their spy vans.
Quote Benjamin Dover, a spokesman from the CIA:
"You fucking Americans are so funny we just had to listen in."

Of course we're still hot on the tail of terrorists-
but what the hell, that can wait-
it's not like we're going to find
Bin Ladle or whatever his name is,
unless he's in Piss Ass, Arkansas-
so we might as well have fun!

And after listening, if the conversations are really funny
they go straight to the Oval Office.
Bush likes to put them on at halftime on Sundays games.
Then we all get a kick out of it.

Why last Sunday Cheney nearly vomited,
he was laughing so hard at a conversation between
Pat Robinson and the new Pope-
The Pope kept confusing him with Billy Graham,
so Robinson tells the Pope to blow him!

So don't worry people of America,
it's not like your Cindy Sheehan
or got anything to hide, well then... If you do-
we'll be listening.

Ooops.

What Up?

Non Progress

Cover me where I fall-
dead drunk. Lest I become
a rock or some inanimate object
devoid of feeling or emotion.

I need to calm this restless spirit, so
I drink to dull the urge to run, and
I fear for my utter survival; For
I have made eternal enemies.

You- Jay, whom I once called brother,
now plot revenge for imagined transgressions.
Did you not think that I felt your pain
as I transverse this world in your shoes?

As for Noreen, time has not healed the
wounds your knife made as it pierced my flesh,
as I slept with your kiss still moist on my lips
in the coffin of our unsanctified bed.

Now, I go through the motions of the living;
I sleep, I rise, I eat, I work...
nothing disturbs the non-progress
my life is taking. I am the product
of an emotional holocaust.
The generic lack of inertia.

Poem for a Dying World

I wake in the morning with a pounding in my head.
No, not in my head,
the neighbor is building a large boat in his backyard,
he believes he is dying,
but there is hope for his children.

The Earths gravitational pull seems almost non-existant as
I roll off the mattress and onto the bare floor-
or it it the ceiling? Where is that music coming from?
Outside in the yard the grass is dying,
the earthworms weep in their buried holes.
No one seems to notice.

Down the street, mourners gather in memorial park.
The marching band is assembling,
anxious to start the procession.
Tears well in my eyes.
The thought of another funeral parade is too much to handle.
I turn my eyes from the window,
why are these walls not painted?

My heart races and I suddenly run screaming from the room;
"Absolution for the masses!" I shout.
With one big burst of adrenalin
I crash through the large stained glass window;
which doesn't shatter.

Only the ceiling, with its white pitted surface
and the green carpeted floor remain parallel.
The walls are forced to follow suit;
there is no other way.
Outside, the procession has started.

I cradle my weary head in my hands
and repeat over and over;
"The Lord, my savior, shall lead me to redemption,"
but in the end, I conclude;
man's only perfection, is his imperfection.

The little man in the boat.

The World According to Polyman2 (Part 1)

A man falls in love
because he is horny;
a woman because she is curious-
both are disappointed.

When a woman says
I love you...
it means;
I want to control you...

If you hear:
Don't worry, I'll take care of you!
Start worrying.

When a lawyers lips are moving;
he's lying.

In war;
there are no rules.

In business;
there are no rules.

Most Americans value
profit over morals.

Most people have little
if no morals.

When you think you have them
eating out of your hand;
count your fingers.

Always tell the wife
she looks great!

Your in trouble when all goes silent
when you enter a room.

Always sound like you know
what your talking about.

Always look like you know
what your doing.

The world is held together
by plastic.

The urge

Polonius: What do you read my Lord?
Hamlet: Words, words, words.
(Shakespeare)

I have had the urge lately
to write more that
I've ever written before.

When I am not writing,
I am thinking about writing.

and,
I have become a real fan of blogging-
I fear it's my new addiction.
Since this is my off season,
I am thrilled to have the time
to post and travel from blog to blog
at odd hours, both day and night.

I value all my cyberfriends
and sit in amazement,
laughter and sorrow at all
the details of your lives
that are posted daily.

I especially enjoy the ladies-
and yes; I do like to flirt (it's harmless)
and look forward to your visits
and I wish I could hug you all for stopping by.


But I can't,so instead
I take sustenance with
your thoughts and words,
and the day-to-dayness of your lives
and applaud the unique urge that spurs you on
and compels you to write.

Nice Kitty

New Years Baby 1906...guess who?

Polyman2's 10 2006 Dream Resolutions or (at this age it's no fun being good) or (How to go to hell in a handbag)

1) Drink to excess.

2) Eat whatever, whenever I please.

3) Indulge in all the sins of the flesh.

4) Enjoy a good cigar at will.

5) Enjoy a good spliff at will.

6) View obsene and otherwise objectionial material often.

7) Listen to whatever-the-hell music I choose to at the moment.

8) The same goes with TV, in the likelihood that something in that vast electronic wasteland would ever catch my attention.

9) Have less patience with nitt witts, in a kind way of course.

10) Engage in serious dialogue with those of like mind and similar high IQ's.