smokin llama, mama

...Some of the worst poetry on Earth. From the high mountainous regions of Peru, Octopus Motor brings you this month's selection of poetry by the more artistic members of a herd found grazing on the western steppes.

Note: These selections were, necessarily, translated by a llama interpreter into his native Peruvian dialect, then into English by way of pidgin Spanish, the 42nd Street bus and two blocks in the back of a Pacer...


Just A Thought: If they made a billion-dollar film about giraffes would we then get those cool promotional cups at McDonalds, but with really really long straws???

Got no violence-
Got no sex-
Just those critters
With big long necks.
( and these are real- not special effects )

Got no car chases-
No gunshots-
Just big yellow critters
That gots brown spots.

Got no kickboxing-
No kung fu fighting-
To tell you the truth
It ain't that exciting.

Got no Melanie Griffith-
No Keanu Reeves-
Just big tall critters
That just eat leaves.

Won't see Jack Nicholson - won't see Cher
Won't see Mel Gibson's derriere...
Not much of an adventure -
And very few laughs,
But one thing it does got... giraffes.

Original Llama Interpretation:
Trot about briefly before losing interest.

Translator's Note: Llamas really don't make much in the way of sounds. Representing this poem in true llama-ese would actually be more like the art of mime -- except with a pungent livestock odor, and considerably less white makeup. Surprisingly enough, there would be more or less the same level of belligerent instinctive spitting.

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