Out of Left Field: I’m Homer, the freakin’ Edgar Allan Poet!


Long fly ball, towers majestically over the fresh cut grass.
Long fly ball, the announcer opines, “this one’s got a chance!”
Long fly ball, and Maris’ legend fades to black.
A long fly ball, generated by a syringe in the ass.

Long fly ball, drifting gracefully towards the Bay.
Long fly ball, and Aaron’s legend is surely dead.
Long fly ball, our national pastime is put to bed.
A Long fly ball, hey Barry what’s up with your head?

A called strike three, hey batter guess what you’re out.
A called strike three, hey batter did you even see it?
A called strike three, launches from a Hall of Famer’s paw.
A called strike three, hey Rocket we know you cheated.

A long fly ball, on the way to the Hall of Fame.
A long fly ball, while ruining the integrity of the game.
A long fly ball, hey Sammy, no hablo Español.
A long fly ball, 600 is in the air.
A long fly ball, hey Sammy go smoke a bowl.

A long fly ball, this one is on the Mark.
A long fly ball, I’m sorry and I don’t know why.
A long fly ball, now I need to help the Cards.
A long fly ball, and oddly enough I still look like Popeye.

A long fly ball, and finally a guy who we can trust.
A long fly ball, and one over whom the women can lust.
A long fly ball, yes it’s in A-rod that we trust.
A long fly ball, the women confirm the Rod’s as limp as a blade of grass.
A long fly ball, just another shot in the ass.



Filed under Editorial, Homer Plate

5 responses to “Out of Left Field: I’m Homer, the freakin’ Edgar Allan Poet!

  1. Dylan Zaccaria

    That was interesting haha, at first I thought it was a rhyming poem, chance, ass they sorta sound similar… i guess

  2. Homer

    Actually, my dear Dylan, it is the grass that rhymes with ass. You see, back in the late 40’s when I used to frequent coffee houses in Instanbul, we would have one central line connected to each of us with what we called TOD running through it. TOD was tons of drugs. I would get up on stage with my vintage harp and recite my words of wisdom. That was where I sowed my poetic yet slighty cininimini oatmeal. Ah, those were the days…..

  3. Thedude

    Homer’s best work since the Illiad and the Oddysey

  4. poetry

    What a piece of garbage writing

  5. Homer

    My Dear Poetry:
    I say my dear because if you are a dude named poetry, then your cheesy butt should ship back to the Village where you belong and root for the Mets. Garbage? Don’t you know that my great, great granny Ms. Candee Dundee (2nd cousin of Mick’s Great Uncle) once had a torid love affair with one Wild Bill Shakespear? Now only she could call the master wild Bill. But this direct lineage to the master surely exempts me from any and all criticism. Also, this is a tribute to Eddie Poe, who in coordination with Sony Pictures, is releasing the sequal to the film “Wall Street” very soon and is also releasing the sequal to “The Pit and the Pendulum, which will be based on the life story of one Mick Vick. It is titled “The Pit Bull Hanging from the Pendulum.”
    Love, HoMer

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