The Ballad of Arthur James

For Arthur, a thank you (of sorts).

Arturius Jameson, the sock puppet

Elusive, reclusive old fellow

Writes poems for folks

That he likes the most

With a tone best described here as “Mellow”

No entries for Arty; no words to explore.

Click him – you'll see now't on his page

But let me recount

The stunning amount

Of trouble he caused with a rampage.

“Uh-huh” I implore, with a quick knowing nod,

“He was once all manic and wild.

“No poems for he,

“Just violence, you see,

As for poetry? Nothing so mild.”

Arturious Jameson, the Rogue of the East

The Bounder of Furious Intent

The Seducer of Babes;

The Killer of Knaves

One day to Clear Spring he went.

Into Starbucks he strode, all glistening-eyed,

Demanding a quick-hit of latte.

“And don't make me wait,

“I cannot be late,”

“If I am don't expect to be paid.”

The barista shook - right down to his shoes,

When he heard Arturius' stern tone

In a most fearful dream

Then did work his machine

'Til – disaster! The milk was all gone!

“But- but sir!”the boy stuttered, revealing the jug:

As empty as he was of courage,

“I'm sorry to tell ya,

“No, do stay calm, fella!

“A latte I just cannot manage!”

“NO LATTE?!” roared Jameson, as folks cleared their seats,

Arthur slapping the lad in a rage




Arthur rose in his ire and hurdled the wood

That stood stoutly twixt him and the boy

Then examined the jug,

And then the boy's mug

Before fixing his mind on a ploy.


Shouted Art to the folks in a hurry

Then he gathered up cups,

Filled with half-finished sups,

Combining them into a great slurry.

There was latte and mocha, expresso and iced

Bits flavoured with syrups and cream.

Arthur swirled them around

Then drank them all down

While the boy watched, too frightened to scream.

All coffee'd up now was Arturius J,

And moving at super-fast speed.

As he moved through the caff,

With maniacal laugh,

He opens his pants – and he peed!

While Art's cup overflowed, the boy found his sense

And dialed for help on his phone

“Please come – he's gone mad!

“And hurry! Oh, the cad...

He's a monster! And I'm here alone!”

Just as Art finished up his magnificent stream

(Which over-filled almost nine cups)

The police did arrive

And surrounded our guy,

Then with guns out, they snapped on the cuffs.

Months later, our Arthur, declared all fixed up

Was released to the world once again,

But an oath he had taken,

To never partake in

The drinking of coffee – forfend!

So, ashamed of his past, Artie floats around here

Writing poems for people who please him.

But don't mention coffee

For he'll just get stuffy,

And will pee in your cup in you tease him.

By Lou (Who never claimed to be a poet.)

Views: 179

Comment by JMac1949 Memories on November 30, 2012 at 5:56pm

An appropriate homage to the streaming conscious of a very talented gentleman who must be admired for his extraordinary style.  R&L ;-)

Comment by Jenny on November 30, 2012 at 7:37pm

Very cool. I love it when Art graces my blog. 

Comment by Poor Woman on November 30, 2012 at 8:39pm

No milk??? Oh,the humanity!

brilliantly rhymed. Witty. Silly. Even irreverent.

i like 'em like that!


Comment by Zanelle on November 30, 2012 at 9:06pm

I love this!  Good tribute to a good guy.

Comment by Davyboy on December 1, 2012 at 8:23am

Clever and welcome....Whatta guy that Art is.

Comment by chuck a stetson on December 1, 2012 at 10:58am

without reading Art James, there would be no poetry in my life. he is be-bop. he is Wendell Berry and more. he is much admired, comment copied, and loved.

Comment by Arthur James on December 4, 2012 at 9:45am

This brought tears to my eyes.

Eyeballs fill to the brim as cups.

I have always aimed to be kind.


Kindness cam make me tearful.

I hope this goes. Others went?

Maybe NSAs File ` Thirteen . . .

Peace and Light ` To You . . .

Comment by Arthur James on April 13, 2013 at 10:28am


I just tried to Gargle some 'Fat Tire' Beer.

Rita? I swear I forgot about this nice gesture.

Karma is a multi-demented? Dimension Force.

It's not easy to put in words. Energy is Creative.

I'll pick up Dill Goat (soft) Spread Cheese. Picnic.

You bring Hard-Crusted Bread for Soft Cheeses.

We can both swig and gargle with 'Fat Tire' Brew.


We'll read some poems and dance in moonlight.

You better tell Your Spouse that I am not a flirt.

You like a Sister. You be a Lover in Your Spirit.






aye, my

O, galore



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