Percy Dovetonsils is the nom de plume of Doug Lane, who laughed himself nearly to death when he first heard/saw Percy Dovetonsils lisping in his cravate on the old Ernie Kovacs Show. Doug Lane is alive and worrying about his credit card balances in Los Angeles, California. He some day hopes to grow himself a mustache as thin as Percy's. more »
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Percy Dovetonsils Poems
An Insistent Knocking
Life, said the old poet is an insistent knocking on doors that won't open into houses
Being Frank Sinatra
What I wouldn't give to be Frankie Blue Eyes for a lonnnnngggg day.
I've missed the boat
I’ve missed the boat. And that’s not the only one.
the literacy holocaust
First they came for the independent bookstores, then for the newspapers and magazines.
What I have
I have a rendezvous with destiny. She is the goddess who entices me. I see her beckoning with open arms. She promises I will not come to harm.
Ring Words are like merry-go-rounds.
An Armistice of Wood
At Shiloh, The Marne, and Waterloo, Sribinica, Auschwitz, and Dien Bien Phu, wherever the slaughtered dead soaked the earth the marriage between man and forest grew.
salute to suicide
Not that I plan to, but it’s nice to know it’s there if I
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist, discovers a tiny brown lesion on the end of his nose. he uses his wife’s
I just don’t care the way I used to what you’ve got between your lines.
the last poet
the last poet marched the last simile to a barren hillside
as I grow stupider
As I grow stupider my wit dulls my words disappear and I find I need
The Death of Wonder
It had always been taken for granted and seemed it would always be there so its extinction wasn’t noticed for some time.
It’s tough being a writer when you’ve got no imagination and you don’t want to share the hideous truth
Comments about Percy Dovetonsils
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
An Insistent Knocking
Life, said the old poet
is an insistent knocking
on doors that won't open
that won't be there
by the time
So relax, stop knocking,
sit on the stoop
in front of the house
that won't be there.
the houseless owner,
looking for a new house,
a new way through,
and you'll find
he doesn't look any better than,
or different from,