Alright I’d like to bring some levity to the next daylog, so in the spirit of Edgar Allen Porn I’d like to post my own only slightly more pornographic version of Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Kubla Khan
The Last Descendent of Kubla Khan
In Binghamton did Steven Wheat
A swingin’ Bach’lor pad decree
Where Alf the 80’s hero, ran
Through channels measureless to man
On a zenith TV
So twice five feet of messy ground
Where beer and ramen were laying round:
And there were fridges bright with expired dills
Where blossomed many a nasty smelling leak
And here was laundry ancient as the hills
Covering old mags of pornography
But oh! That deep pathetic closet which slanted
Down the white wall athwart a plastic cover!
A ravaged place! As holy and demented
As e’er within a simpson’s toon was flaunted
By co-eds flailing for their pork-chop-lover!
And from the classroom, with painful boredom leaving
As if this university were teething
A mighty kegger momentarily was forced
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Ping-pong balls vaulted like holy grails
Or sinking ships beneath alcoholic gales
And ‘mid these dancing cups at once and ever
It flung up momentarily the sacred river
Five men meandering with a hazy motion
Through couch and chair the yellow river ran
Then reached the bathroom odorless to man
And sank in one flush to a lifeless ocean
And ‘mid this tumult Steve heard from the bar
Fraternity voices coming with more Coors
The aroma of the drunken pleasure
Floated midway through the rave
Where was heard a techno treasure
With him spinning the party’s saved
It was a turntable of rare device
A sorority came with bags of ice!
A brunette with a tank top shirt
In the kitchen I once saw
It was a Staten Island maid
And on a tabletop she played
Dancing with other girls
Could I revive my kidney
From being drunk so long
That such a hangover ‘twould win me’
That my head felt like a gong
I would build my pad in air,
That smelly home! Those raves of vice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, What should I wear!
His bloodshot eyes, his matted hair!
And close your eyes while in his bed,
For he to many girls hath said,
That college is a Paradise.