https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/category-984-muse en 2005-2012 shakespearesmonekys@gmail.com 42.65593 -71.33391 Thu, 11 Jun 2026 05:00:13 GMT yacs http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss 70 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-8347-scarlett-ashley-and-rhett-butler-s-ass https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-8347-scarlett-ashley-and-rhett-butler-s-ass "Say Scarlett, does this stuff just fall out of your ass? Scarlett was standing next to her prized donkey, Rhett Butler. "Why, whatever do you mean, Ashley?" She batted her green eyes and smiled coyly. "All this flowery stuff around here." "Oh, no",  she laughed, in tones she hoped resembled tiny tinkling bells. "All that", she cocked her head demurely towards her book of poems, "comes out of me." "Wow, that's incredible." He said with genuine amazement. She lowered her eyes, as if such admiration overwhelmed her delicate sensibilities. "You see" she said in a confiding whisper, "I have always been at the mercy of the muses, and they demand from me the noble and relentless pursuit of beauty's perfection, which I must struggle for from the very depths of my fragile soul and..." ... more Celticlion A Load of Empty Boxes Thu, 08 May 2008 23:04:01 GMT /section-567-a-load-of-empty-boxes#comments 6 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/8347 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/8347 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A8347 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-8016-a-bitter-come-uppance-from-a-snotty-muse https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-8016-a-bitter-come-uppance-from-a-snotty-muse Disturb me not, perversely, I am vexed, your fault I blame for splitting wholesome seams, and like a cow whose bitter teat drips sour, I'm left to curse the pig who gives no cream.   These words defeat my nose's tender dreams, for smelling words of Lavender and Rose, delights my pen's belief it never stinks, this pile of manure on paper grows.   It must be yours that squishes between toes, for mine was always fresh as Spring's first grass, your morning sat beneath me as I wrote, each raking blade a stain upon my ass. ... more Celticlion Poetry Sat, 26 Apr 2008 14:18:36 GMT /section-566-poetry#comments 1 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/8016 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/8016 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A8016