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June 21, 2005


I'm going to be spending the next few days in a secret undisclosed location that rhymes with Palt Pisney Porld, where I will experience the magic and wonder of standing for hours with a 5-year-old in lines the length of the Canadian border. So I'm thinking that if you're bored – and let's be honest: if you're reading this blog, you're bored -- you might want to participate in our annual Poetry Project.

For some background on this concept, you can go here and read about the first Poetry Project, which we modestly believe produced some of the most memorable poems ever written in the English language containing the phrase "the dog ate mother's toes."

This year we will once again be submitting our poems to the fun-loving guys and gals at poetry.com, who, we are sure, truly enjoy being a part of this effort. Just click on "ENTER CONTEST" and write your poem. To identify yourself as a participant in the Poetry Project, you should enter a "nomme de plume" (literally, "hors d'oeuvre") that includes the name "Habte," followed by a hyphen. The only restriction concerning the content of your poem is that it should include some reference to a mullet hairstyle. For example:


By Dave Habte-Barry

I love you, dear, with all my heart
And infinite desire
And so I cry each time you set
My mullet hair on fire

I'm sure you folks can do much better.

Update: I've been reading your poems, and I just want to say that I am very proud of all of you. I'm also hoping that none of you are operating heavy machinery.


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I can't *wait*

and ... first?

I can't *wait*

and ... first?

Wow, two tries today and BOTH scored! I'm awesome! To bad I really stink at poetry, I definitely won't win the prize. Come to mention it, what is the prize?

What if I don't like to write poetry? More importantly, what if I try extremely hard to make sure my name doesn't have a hyphen in it? And finally, what if I abhor writing about mullets?

Can I write about perms?

Boy, I don't know what Ted did in his previous life, but he is paying some serious karmic debts in this one.

Yes, Dave! Yes!

Yes, Dave! Yes! Let the unbalanced minds of the blog free!
*dancing in joy*

I think the prize should be a Habte-makeover! Yeah, a free Habte-wig! OOH, a "mullets rock" t-shirt and photo-Habte-shoot would be included! Sweet! I might be inspired to compete after all!

OK, mine's up: "I Miss You."

Okay, I don't want to brag, but I just submitted this sure-fire winner:

Oh how I love my man’s fine mullet.
I feel it way down deep in my gullet.
And even if it sometimes looks kinda dull it
Would make me cry if he ever did cull it.


By Long Tall Habte-Dickinson

I'm Habte, who are you?
Are you a Habte too?
Who does our hair for us, don't tell!
They'd ban us, you know!

How wonderful to have a mullet!
And walk around in a fog,
Lo, to wear our hair this way!
For an admiring blog!

Habte is apparently a much more common name than we could have ever imagined.

Look how many legit poems there are by Habtes!

While you're visiting poetry.com, also run a search where last name is "Pustule." I believe that the entire blog submitted entries as XX Pustule, in a sort of mass-blogging last year.

Search for last name "Habte-" with the hyphen. Then you only get the mullet results.

Long Tall Texan - LMAOROFL !!!
Thanks - I needed that !

Dave - I recommend the People Mover in Tomorrowland, for when you're wiped out and just want to sit down. It's always empty, and the ride is fairly long. Also, you get a nice breeze up there.

Oh, to think of the day
I first saw your shaggy mullet
You offered your figer out to me
And asked for me to pull it

The trailer glistened rusty red
And you poured beer down your gullet
Business in the front, party in the back
And no hairspray or comb could dull it.

My Love For You Is Like A Mullet

When oft I sit in pensive state
And spy you 'cross the room
I snork so hard I flatulate
At your mulletacious plume.

I yearn for you, my heart doth rend
Modern stylings must you always tempt?
So much hair gel, it will not bend
The mullet king, I ne'er had dreamt.

In the twilight, and heady air
Your long and curly locks flow free
And to my sylist's complete despair
She whangs her head upon a tree.

I miss those times and wondrous places
Krystal's and such of equal glamor
The rodeos and Nascar races
Let's not forget, I pooped a hammer.

My love for you is like a mullet
And as such you should infer
Nothing friggin rhymes with mullet
Three cheers for Ted Habte-Gabr!


I dream of a land,
Where hair roams free.
In the front it's all business,
In the back it's Par-TEE.

Mulletopia is this place
Habte-Gabr is the Mayor.
He denies his Mulletude
But the bloggers don't care.

To propose in Mulletopia
A barf bag you must use
On a drooling flight attendant
In the midst of a snooze

Seersucker suits are the uniform
Cheerleader shoes for the feet
Whether your hair's curly or straight
Mulletopia can't be beat.

This is mullet haiku
It's time for mullet haiku
Mullet haiku time

This is mullet haiku
It's time for mullet haiku
Mullet haiku time

But I am the Queen of Haikus! Mullet poetry? I now have a mission...

Twas not what I had intended
That day when mom's dancing ended.
What better to soften her weary feet
Than a bit of gravy still scented with meat?
Why search for a bunion pad
When sausage casing is easily had?
But her envisioned delight
Has suddenly turned into fright.
For while she was napping
There was licking and lapping
And the dog ate mother's toes.

Thanks Sarcasmo...a light at the end of the tunnel!

I Wondered Lonely As A Ted

I wondered lonely as a Ted
At this mess upon my head
Is there naught I could do to save it?
Or should I just give up, and shave it?

How to write for this here site?
Just sit right down, and start to type!
No need to mull it.

Totally Habte-Jamester

Thankyou, thankyou verrry much...

Full fathom five thy mullet lies;
Of his follicles are Brilliantine made;
Those are curls that were his split ends;
Nothing of him that does fade (on the sides, that is),
But doth suffer a 1980s-change
Into something… well, just strange.
Bloggers hourly mock his do:
Groovy! Now I hear them – Stayin’ alive, Ted.

Mull it, mullet Ted,
Why not mull it, mullet Ted,
Mull it, mullet Ted.

Repetition is a literary device, isn't it?

A torture one, possibly.

So, apparently there's a length limit. That sure would have been good to know BEFORE I typed it all up.


I poured the coals
I lit the fire
I watched as it grew large
I brought out bowls
I hid them higher --
Out of the reach of Marge

I asked around
"Who wants to eat
Hamburgers or dogs?"
But not a sound
Despite the heat
They just stood like logs

I called again
Louder now
Hoping for a look
"Come on, men!
I don't know how
many of these to cook!"

And now I feared
for my life
What happened these guys?
They all had beards
even my wife
And blank, brooding eyes

Then I saw
what happened here
It hit me like a bullet
I said "Ha!
This is queer;
Everyone has a mullet!"

They heard their name
my last mistake
The hairstyles formed a pack
Then they came
one grabbed a stake
And then began the attack

On poetry.com. Post them on poetry.com. Make snarky comments here!

by the way, great job everyone. I needed a laugh or two today!

Well, here's mine, and yes, I submitted it to poetry.com:
Mullet Over
A limerick by Desert Habte-Rose
A U Of I grad named Ted
Wore something weird on his head,
Girls would point,laugh and gag,
So he gave them barf bags,
Denying his mulleted head.

Don't forget your poncho that makes you look like a giant banana. The secet place has been getting dumped on by the rain gods the last week or so.

The Dreilet Song
(aka "Ach, Mein Lox, Dey Ain't So Nova")

Ted had a liddle dreilet,
He made it out of hair (?),
And ven it's oiled and curl-ed,
The bloggers dey vill stare!

Oy! Dreilet, Dreilet, Dreilet,
He made it out of hair (?),
And ven it's oiled and curl-ed,
The bloggers dey vill stare!

Jamester, I love your lonely Ted...

it made me snork so hard I flatulated...which I can't stop snorking over...thanks Federal D

'M' Is For Mullet

A mullet is a many splendored thing,
Enchanting as a four-leaf clover.
Ravishing, majestic....don't you agree?
I beg you, my dear, please mullet over.

Hey, Dave,

Take a good book or two, to read while you're standing in line. As well as something for Sophie to play with. Also, if you get so tired you can't take another step, and the exit is miles away, flag down an employee with a walkie talkie and have them bring you a wheelchair. They'll even push you to your car.

What more could you want
Strictly business in the front
Party in the back

XD I'm a stalker bloggerette...Never commenting, always reading. But I joined in on the fun.

M is for the mane that flows down your neck.
U is for “us”, who treat you like heck.
L is for laughter, that rings through the blog,
L is for lice, (which we hope is not a problem for you cause it would really suck)
E is for “Eeeeew”, in case you HAVE lice,
T is for treatment, with Nix would be nice.
Put ‘em all together they spell “Hideous Hair Style” – cut it already.

Thank you.

Dave! Oh! Oh! OH! DAVE! I am having DORKGASMS(tm)!! I LOVE when you give us projects!!

I'm not even going to try. You guys are hysterical.

OMG!!!!! WHO IS WALT HABTE-WHITMAN? I am befooled by his/her dazzling brilliance!

Blast! The stupid hyperlink didn't work!

Just posted:

(Apologies to Joyce Kilmer)



I think that I shall never see
A mullet is lovely as the one on thee.
A mullet whose locks are pressed
Against your sweet chest;
A mullet that looks at your neck all day,
and lies upon your shoulders to pray;
A mullet that may in Summer wear
A cap of Nascar upon the hair;
Upon whose bosom dandruff has lain;
Who initimately lives with Rogain;
Mullets are worn by fools like thee,
But only you can prevent forest fires.

I have a gullet
But I don't have a mullet
Ted has a mullet
And a gullet
I hate Ted.

I Am My Hair

Well I'm Gondar, Ethiopia born and raised
But with my mullett, I couldn't score
Cornrows looked bad, an afro looked crazed
Shaved was slick, but it clogged my pores

"I am my hair"
But no one's there
And no one heard at all
Not even the barber chair
"My hair," I cried
"My hair," said I
My barber sucks, and I can't even say why
Leavin' my mullett there

Here's the one that got me fired from Hallmark:

"In Memories, Flowers of Happiness Bloom,
That Mullet Looks Hot, Let's Go To Your Room."

Dave, Be sure to use the "fast pass" service. It cuts out lots of waiting in line. Rather than wait in a 45 minute queue you can get a ticket that gives you a 15 minute ride window in about an hour. You can then spend that time riding another ride or getting luch, etc.. Then when your time comes you can skip the line and get on the ride. Be sure to check the return time before getting your fast pass.

With no apologies whatsoever to William Habte-Shakespear because, after all, he's dead.

Mullett 73

That time of year that I in thee behold
Thine flowing mullet, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those shoulders which shake against the cold,
The tresses long do warm the flesh upon which it hangs.
In thee I seest the twilight of such style
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
which like leisures suits doth eventually away,
A "Glamour Don't", that seals up all in rest.

Thou thinkst in me the business in the front doth inspire
the same lust that would make me lie
as with the party in the back as the one whom I desire
Consumed with lust which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes my love more strong,
But thy mullett, I fear, is ere wrong.

A Mulletude of Sexual Appeal

By King Habte-bipeekaboo

Fair Ted, O Ted, thy hair so long
So curly and so bright
It is with joy that this young boy
Does think of you at night.

Have mullets screamed "make me into a pentameter!" for quite some time now? I'm still caught up in the "I'm so ugly you HAVE TO LOOK AT ME" era. Someone please help me see the creative beauty. Or is then when ugly things are beautiful. like the poop statue of Mary?

Oh where have you gone terror boy
we miss you so
You were not a subplot
...most of the time
Terror boy taken by Marwan
then never heard from again
we miss thee
With out you and the rest of 24
the blog has nothing
nothing but mullets
and mullets are lame

I'm no poet but I do believe that is the greatest damn poem ever written by me at this time on this blog

I give to you a wonderful mul-limeric. It's really long, though. I don't feel like entering, so have at it.

Day in the Life of a Mullet
by Doug Habte-McKenzie, or whoever

A mullet is a type of hair
for ones with no brains up there
He combs it and sprays it, and builds a shrine to it
For decency he has no care

He gets out of bed at noon
and doesn't start moving too soon
He rolls out of bed, shakes his head
and looks like an old baboon

He sleezes into the car
turns keys, doesn't move too far
His house is on wheels, which nobody steals
'cause its parked right next to the bar

He quickly starts to imbibe
mistakenly he tries to jibe
doesn't much blog, but that's his job
insults hit from all sides

At 2 he calls it a day
he really really can't stay
He stumbles on home, never far to roam
Come back tomorrow he may

That's where we leave our friend
his will never to bend
He'll blow it, and 'fro it, but never forgo it
Our relationship never to mend

I know I'm awesome, but it's free for the horking.

soooo, did anyone else enter theirs on poetry.com?

Dear sir,
this was a rip off. I worked very hard on a poem, and even made some bits rhyme a bit. It says my poem is questionable. Here is my effort:

I cannot find my teeth.
Oh deary me.
Lunch without teeth?
So gum gum gummy gum.
Toast can be fun.
Add Marmite and gum.

Now what is wrong with that?

Arthur Pratt

Sidcup, Kent

Here is my entry:
Once there was a guy named Smullet,
who refused to admit he wore a mullet.
Though surveys were taken,
He said you must be mistaken.
It's simply a perm in disguise.

I'd write a poem about a Mellet
But I don't know how to spell it.

What the hell is a mullet?
sounds like something that makes you sick in your gullet...
like reading blogs without clogs
picking worms without perms
or putting my nose in a fallit.

which makes me wonder about people who go to
Ploneyworld, and suffer the lines with a wee little girl,

Only true love, and the heart of a dove could possibly stand, the tenth time at MGM,
when it rains right at the end
....and you can't even see Tinker Bell.
The pixie dust turns out to be sand,
but at the end, when she is holding your hand
the castle is still there, your wallet has disappeared, BUT

When she looks up at him, and asks
he can say..."I have been spending the day with a mullet...who has my heart in her gullet"...

Mickey and Minnie can spin and catch flies in a bin, because now I'm too tired to control it.
(his mullet or gullet or wee little pullet.)

Nothing like a really good bad poem, its there?
I can't cook either.

my humble offering:

Mullet and Mullet

Some say the word means layered hair.
Some say it's fish.
Uneven locks just cause despair.
Short front, long back, yuck! mullet hair!

The definition more delish --
A piscine mullet on a plate --
fulfills the reader's hungry wish.

Not hairy pate,
But tasty dish.

Robert Frosty Habte-Schmabte

A Song of Ted

Don't shave my mullet,
My shapely, wavy mullet,
It’s just the Habte-Gabr way.
But if you shave my mullet,
I won’t mourn you’ve shorn it;
I’ll make a wig and sell it on Ebay.

Dear sir,
this was a rip off. I worked very hard on a poem, and even made some bits rhyme a bit. It says my poem is questionable. Here is my effort:

I cannot find my teeth.
Oh deary me.
Lunch without teeth?
So gum gum gummy gum.
Toast can be fun.
Add Marmite and gum.

Now what is wrong with that?

Arthur Pratt

Sidcup, Kent

So far, King Habte-bipeekaboo is winning this competition, and with only four lines of poetic immolation. King Habte-bipeekaboo thinks he deserves a prize. Perhaps a free haircut.

Sing to "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes"...

Mullet, Bird tattoo, rug burns, and green toes...
Mullet, Bird tattoo, rug burns, and green toes...
Business in front, party in the back, ears hanging out,
and finger up my nose.
Mullet, Bird tattoo, rug burns, and green toes!
(Rug burns and green toes)

Sing to "Head, shoulders, knees, and toes"...

Mullet, Bird tattoo, rug burns, and green toes...
Mullet, Bird tattoo, rug burns, and green toes...
Business in front, party in the back, ears hanging out,
and finger up my nose.
Mullet, Bird tattoo, rug burns, and green toes!
(Rug burns and green toes)

Another song... Sing like you're (not your) Sha-na-na:

(Bass line, repeat) Muh muh muh, mu-muh muh muh muh, muh muh muh, muhulet...

Muh muh muh, mu-muh muh muh muh, muh muh muh, muhulet...

(Whiney short dude) Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet. Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet.

My mullet is my pride and joy, I brush it every day.
I part it straight down the middle, it looks good either way.
I twirl my long locks in back, i twirl it both sides.
And then I reach the ends around my neck where the ends collide.

(Whiney short dude) Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet. Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet.

My Mom just loves my haircut
Reminds her of my Daddy
He passed away ten years ago
Changing the oil on his Caddy.

(Whiney short dude) Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet. Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet.

I'm looking for a job this year,
may have to get it cut.
unless I stay in town to work
tattooing people's butts

(Whiney short dude) Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet. Ooooh awwwwwwww ohhhhhh, my mullet.

(Bass line): My-eye-eye-eyyyyyyyyyyyyye.... Muhhhhhhhhhhh-letttttttttt.

Here comes Peter Pony-Tail
Hopping down the mullet trail
Hippity, Habte, "Hotcha"'s on its way--

Bringing loads of hotcha styles
For redneck guys and redneck gals
Extra hotcha means that they'll get layed!


(Poetry.com wouldn't accept this with the proper spelling of "laid", so I had to use the incorrect spelling. What a travesty!)

I have a questionable poem. It's called 'why'. Haha! Get it? questionable?! Anyway...

Why why why
I ask you
The mullet
is not true

Eat some fish
why why why
Don't ask me
have a fry

Party in back
ready to go hunt
why why why
nothing up front?

Grab a beer,
a slice of pie
let me shave it
why why why?

Ode to a Rubik's Cube

Mullets to the left of me
Mullets to the right
The 80s are back in style
The thought gives me a fright

Will Max Headroom be cool again?
Will game rooms be the place
To spend our quarters trying
To defeat Invaders from Space?

Does a haircut define a group
As many wags have said?
I think I’ll keep mine off my neck
Unlike Dave B’s friend Ted

well, i suck at poetry. but have enjoyed the lower case stylings of ee cummings. i'll try combining that with a rhyme of ogden nasheries...

meself, i kinda like the hair
that's not too long, and not too fair
it has no feathers, nor a bow
but curls up deeply in the back
might be a mullet, but i demure
nope, just long curly hair.

that's all i got.
queensbee, bard of albany..

Darn, I missed the part where it had to have a mullet. Where here is one that I submitted, but it doesn't count -- just for anyone's enjoyment.

The son with orange fingers

My son, please why do you torment me so?

I have seen you grow
on the couch with sublime.

You like the new coke - you know,
the one with the lime.

But son, please why do you torment me so?

Summer is here, so much of your time is spent
On the couch in the living room, you are in heaven sent.

My son, please why do you torment me so?

When in bliss with Springer, Cartoon Network or Regis,
you quell your hunger with the snack of the Cheetahs.

I love you son, but please use a towel.
Wiping your cheeto fingers on the couch causes me to howl.

My son with the orange fingers, why do you torment me so?

O how I hate when ASP
won't let me pimp my poetry.
To find it, you must search, then click,
'cos ASP is such a (insert word for "bathing-suit-bits" that rhymes with "click" here).

This whole "mullet thing" has got to be the greatest Productivity Enhancer of all time. Sure has me hooked.

Gabr Haiku

Mullet is a fish.
Mullet is a hairstyle.
Either way, flakey.

You are all truly gifted. What a way to start a day! Bravo to all!

am proud of this morning's work
(mine + redd's mullet haiku)

I know my "poem" sucked, but I just wanted to be part of the group so I don't care!

crap, the alignment got screwed up


a i
c d
k e


a i
c d
k e

That poetry website is nothing but a big farce. Click on the 100 greatest poems of all times link. Not a single "Roses are red,violets are blue" poem listed. They wouldn't know poetry if it bite um on the butt!

I can't believe no one else has come up with this nifty bit of plaigarism:

If you're(not your) Habte and you know it clap your hands.
If you're(not your) Habte and you know it clap your hands.
If you're(not your) Habte and you know it, then your (not you're) mullet will surely show it.
If you're(not your) Habte and you know it clap your hands.

You may now feel free to throw your tomatoes.

rufus, I swear I wrote my poem before I read your post, please don't bust me for plagiarism.

Insomniac - I like your nomme de plume! (i was going to say I like your hors d'oeuvre, but I was afraid you'd get the wrong idea.)

And my poor contribution from yesterday:

The Village Mullet

Under the spreading mullet-hair
The bloglits’ victim stands;
The Ted, a saddle-shod man is there,
Lacking names for great rock bands;
And yet we still search the ramparts
Just because we can.

* With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There once was a rooster named Ted
In love with a Rhode Island Red.
This comely young pullet
Hated his mullet
So he married a Leghorn instead.

you ain't nothing but a dumb blog
wasting all your time

you ain't nothing but a dumb blog
wasting all your time

I ain't never wore a mullet
and you ain't no friend of mine

you told me I had bad hair
well that was just a lie

you told me I had bad hair
well that was just a lie

I got my mojo workin' and
that unconscious girl is mine

Does the blog have anyone sporting a bowl cut of which we could poke fun? You know, business on the bottom, party on top? Because I had a sugarfree Redbull for breakfast this morning and I'm ready with some bowl cut poems.

Now THAT is some good poetry.

My contribution:
I do not care
for the mullet hair.
It screams duplicity.
Short in front
and long in back,
which, sir, is it to be?
No, I do not care
for the mullet hair.
No mullet-man for me.

Don Teodoro (stolen from Byron)

In Miami now a lusty man came forward
A man born in Ethiop's sunny clime
A man with fame both swamp- and shoreward
Whose last name was immune to sense and rhyme.
His hair was of a certain style, and so black
That 'twas as though a mullet found his head
Though business up front, party in the back
For briefness' sake ,from now on call him 'Ted'
And now I think I'll put down my quill
Since it feels as though I've chugged a box of Nyquil.

Here's mine:

A Glad Day

For years now I've been sad
This thing, I have tried to cull it
But my solution has made me glad
The dog ate mother's mullet

An oddly coiffed creature,
In a KMart once I saw.
Pleated pants were on sale that day.
And in his Camaro he wanted to play.
The IROC with the car bra.
A deep dismay grew in me,
And a sinking sense of dread,
As I looked above the mesh tank top,
I saw a mullet on his head.
He said he'd just airbrushed his van,
"Voules-vous couchez avec moi?" I heard,
then ran,
Crying to all, Beware! Beware!
His Jordache jeans, his flowing hair!
The velvet paintings, the fuzzy dice,
The high-tops stained by Velveeta spread,
Fake gold medallion inscribed with "Ted",
He drinks the Bud Light of Paradise.

Sincerest, deepest apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Thanks to all of you that made me cry! It's been way to long since I laughed so hard I cried.

To The Oscar-Myer bologna song...

Oh, my mullet has a first name,
It's Ted "oh its not true!"
My mullet has a second name,
It's "Habte-" about my hairdo!

Oh, I love to fluff it every day!
And if you ask me why I'll saaaayyyyyy...

'Cause Teddy has a special way
With M-U-L-L-E-T yea!

The Mullet Men (not the one by T.S. Eliot)

We are the mullet men
We are the stuffed mullets
Leaning together
Headpieces filled with mousse. Alas!
Our dried mullets, when
We saddle-shoe together
Are stiff and meaningless
As dry grass
Or rats in seersucker suits
In our steamy bathrooms.

Shape without form, shade without color
Paralysed follicles, mullets without motion.

This is the dead land
This is the cactus land
This is the way the mullet ends
This is the way the mullet ends
This is the way the mullet ends
Not with a bang but a barf bag.

I'm so angry! I upscrewed the way you enter your name, and the stupid poetry website won't let me edit it. GRRRRR!!!!!!

*goes off to grocery store, growling*

Frick! I didn't mean to put my real name. I meant to put Relapsed-Habte-Cat. I'M A MULLET HEAD!

Higgy Habte-Higgy has stolen a scene from Richard III - I think it translates equally as dramatic...

Redd Habte-suss: Brilliant! Short. To the point. Perfect. My favorite.

Here is my submission:

Ode to a Mullett

There once was a man in my dreams
Who had very fine hair it seems
The style was mullet
My fingers did pull it
Until a booger did need to be reamed

I also put my name wrong on the poetry contest site; I made my last name Gabr instead of Habte-Gabr. I made my MIDDLE name Habte. So now not all of the mullet poems will be in once place.

I'm so ashamed.

I mean, ONE place. Geez! I can't do ANYTHING wrong! I mean, right.

habte-coleridge: beautiful, man

Plain and Simple

Make your excuses.
Just curly, long in front, denied
by the barber,
or Craig Kilborn.
Not the party it should be,
but that it is which, by all accounts,
should not--a mullet.
Not in evidence, nor by measure.
Just of the soul.
Plain to see.
Plain to me.

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