One of the many cool folks YerDiarist got to meet was one of his poet-heroes. A poet who was an alumnus and got tossed out of SauceBoy�s former school for smoking cigarettes (which tells you the age of the poet in question.) The gent�s name is Lawrence Ferlinghetti�and hearing him read huge hunks (two hours or so�with standing O�s and encores) of his poetry live, really got the attention of the then 16 year-old SauceToBe.

Now, for this boy? Poets are there to make word-play and head-tilting-fun. The majority of the prose-slingers that really turn DisBoy�s crank are folks who most high-brow pholks would consider the worst sort of NON-POETS. But then, if My Dumb Ass� paid attention to DatMajorityCrew�it�d have to start doing things like accessorizing for a significant other� [Hi! We�re just so cute. We dressed to match. Polo One? Meat Polo Two! Or meet. Gotta get a head or two out of the gutter.] Instead, DisGuy just is hisself. Grin.

So, as most of DaBelovedReaders who have been with DatSauceHuman for the past four months to the day (Anniversary of Sorts Here� Wheee!) well know, those who keep the versification vrooming verily-along in YerSauce�s Head are silly poets. These are putrid-prose-pushers who some distaff-crew-members (Plath=Scared-Shudder-Fer-YerSauce!) would faint upon hearing (or just walk away from looking deeply irritated and put upon.)

Faves are Ogden Nash, Theodor Seuss Geisel, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Ambrose Bierce, Frost, Longfellow, Wilde, Stein, Einstein (Really!,) Carroll, Parker, and on� You get the jest (er, gist. Sorry. That was just wrong.) All share one thing�and that O� ReadersDaSauceText is a big wonderful steaming pile of smelly wit. And for someone who gets his jollies from silly stuff? Nothing better.

So, without intent to annoy, spindle, fold, or mutilate any of those who find deep meaning in Good Friday� It just seemed sensible to share a favorite poem that hits today on the mark. So, using his big ol� paws (as nothing feels better than that PERSONAL TOUCH) to retype for your reading pleasure, here now, is Lawrence Ferlinghetti's Sometime During Eternity, from, A Coney Island of the Mind.

+++++++++++

Sometime during eternity

some guys show up

and one of them

who shows up real late

is a kind of carpenter

from some square-type place

like Galilee

and he starts wailing

and claiming he is hip

to who made heaven

and earth

and that the cat

who really laid on us

is his Dad

And moreover

he adds

It's all writ down

on some scroll-type parchments

which some henchmen

leave lying around the Dead Sea somewheres

a long time ago

and which you won't even find

for a coupla thousand years or so

or at least for

nineteen hundred and fortyseven

of them

to be exact

and even then

nobody really believes them

or me

for that matter

You're hot

they tell him

And they cool him

They stretch him on the Tree to cool

And everybody after that

is always making models

of this Tree

with Him hung up

and always crooning His name

and calling Him to come down

and sit in

on their combo

as if he the king cat

who's got to blow

or they can't quite make it

Only he don't come down from His Tree

Him just hang there

on His Tree

looking real Petered out

and real cool

and also

according to a roundup

of late world news

from the usual unreliable sources

real dead

---YerSauceOfGoodFridayFun

Psssst?

This boy managed to upset someone today�and nothing, (THAT IS NOTHING) makes him more furious with himself than discombobulating someone who does not deserve such through sheer lack of understanding and miss-targeted-amusement. It all comes, from being a boy and having that big-dumbass-thick-skull. Any such event is never intentional�and really/deeply/truly makes DaSauce feel stupid and angry about his inability to gauge someone�s level of coping with what he considers playful and fun/silly. So there. Growl.