Posted: April 15, 1991 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,

I sit here on my lily pad.
fuck you.
I just sit here on my lily pad.
I sound my barbaric yawp.
it’s my poem.
I can say “ribbit”.
I can say “fuck you”.
I am green,
I am wet-skinned.
I sit here on my lily pad.
I am the Froggacuda.
fuck you.

  1. […] of making music, five years of DJ mixes, and one month of unemployment later, I am sitting all froggy on top of a pile of meaningless (to you) shit that perhaps someone will wander through and find a […]

  2. Ben says:

    Wasn’t this promted by a Star Trek Ode to kirk or something?

  3. froggacuda says:

    If my memory serves me, Jill Sherwin was reading a poem of hers that somehow related a patchwork blanket to Spock…

  4. […] I am Thee Froggacuda. Ribbit; fuck you. […]

  5. […] mountains and the deserts in campfires. They’re all now indexed Internet content and ashes. Ribbit. Fuck you. […]

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