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Prophecy & Doggerel
Fully Illuminated Rhyming Nonsense Poetry Book
With Extensive Endnotes
Dedicated to the continent North America & the three glorious nations therein.
Illuminated with artwork by his friends, Mister Sandrigon has made up this book of verse. Wipe clean the dead bugs from off your camera lens! The future of the written word is cured of Adam’s curse.
―Think of all the dogs trapped at home on this beautiful day, & all of the hikers hiking without dogs.‖
-Jenny Ruth Crawford
―I think your poetry is very good, but I don’t understand it.‖
-Jenny Ruth Crawford
All poetry by S. Sandrigon is in the public domain. Much of it originally appeared on the website www.itwaslost.org. Artwork by Grainne Proinseas, Olaf Mary Mohammad, James Quill, Cosmo Wernicky & S. Sandrigon. Published in vanity press pdf-format in 2009.
Prophecy & Doggerel
Table of Contents
Book I. Nonsense .................................................... 9
The Seven Deaths of Mrs Hallam’s Seven Sons ........... 11 Lift Him Up....................................................................... 13 Seven Prayers .................................................................... 15 Extant Prayer ......................................................... 17 Jesus Prayer ............................................................ 19 Exegesis Prayer ...................................................... 21 Genius Prayer ........................................................ 23 Ex-Girlfriend Prayer ............................................. 25 Whirling Gee-Whiz Prayer ................................... 27 George W. Bush Prayer ........................................ 29 Celebrity Canto ................................................................. 31 Song of Dung & Defenestration .................................... 34 Song of Defecation .......................................................... 37 Saga of Jenny ..................................................................... 40
Book II. Songs & River Reports ............................ 49
Report from the Tyne ...................................................... 51 La Niña ............................................................................... 52 Report from the Mersey ................................................... 54 Manichæn Song ................................................................. 55 Report from the Dee ........................................................ 58 Song of the Theater .......................................................... 59 Report from the Liffey ..................................................... 61 Song of the Shisha ............................................................ 62 Report from the Dargle.................................................... 64 Song of the Cannonball.................................................... 65 Song of the Victors ........................................................... 66 Gospel of the Shisha ........................................................ 67 Song of the Shisha ............................................................ 71 Report from Corinth ........................................................ 73 Columbia Canoeing Song ................................................ 74
Book III. Doggerel ................................................ 77
Doggerel Poem about Helicopters ................................. 79 Two Limericks .................................................................. 80 Doggerel Poem about Evelyn Waugh............................ 81 Doggerel Poem about Spiders & Birds .......................... 83 Doggerel Poem about Naming Babies .......................... 85 Doggerel Accusation of Molestation ............................. 87 The Sad Narrative of the Big-Ass Beard on that Rutherford B. Hayes ............................................. 89 Remember Artie Wongay ................................................ 91 Song of Supposition ......................................................... 97 Aunt Sally Jessy Doggerel ................................................ 98
Book IV. Prophecy............................................... 101
Brom-Ilad Bromance ...................................................... 103 Rhythm of the Bard’s Dilemma .................................... 117 Rhythm of Tonight’s Dinner ......................................... 119 Sacred Nuptials................................................................ 121 Prophecy for an Antepenultimate Doom .................... 124 I Need You ...................................................................... 119 Alternate Lyrics; Or, Alternate Lyrics to the National Epic ............................................................................. 125 I’m Going Home ............................................................ 136 extensive endnotes ................................................................ 162 broken promises ................................................................... 164
Manatha-Varcyon! I behold thee flaming in my halls. Light of thy mother's soul! I see thy lovely eagles round; Thy golden wings are my delight, and thy flames of soft delusion. -William Blake Europe: A Prophecy
a roller coaster. The girl in brown who walked into the coffee shop on Thursday Morning had the eyes of an octogenarian. it was her royal belief That nature & nonsense could console grief. She sat way over in the fifth corner & wrote hurriedly a novel about shiteater bunnies & testicles. been a Mormon. What the devils thought was God defenestrating a bastard baby was just a meteorite. The men in the hummer understood That usually it was a pretty safe neighborhood. For every December there had to be screaming arguments about iconography & revolution & tinsel icicles.The Seven Deaths of Mrs Hallam’s Seven Sons My dog rolled over on his other ear when an infant yell shook up the night. Luckily. not a hippy. In memoriam. So why do the gay young men have to dress like that? A father of such potency should have. Or was it the Cosa Noster? Michael was scheming vengeance gainst the professor who rusticated him for plagiarism. quintessentially. you know. . Robert's rhymed dissertation was tit-for-tat. And ambulance sirens. Mr Hallam was able to return to work six weeks after his New Age Aneurysm.
preserved as a marble bust. Joseph's immortal ill will be Never finishing his Third "Lost" Symphony. But overexposed the governor amid the hype. Henry had brought his antique Daguerreotype. When the tumor squeezed the trigger. George has waited his whole life to find the woman with the largest sagging breasts to demonize. A naked newborn problem Is no reason for a pogrom! His youngest sister Phyllis had diatribed seven reasons not to kill us. And the newt's tail in her cauldron She might never feed to her great-grandchildren. your late nights in the confessional have become the vicar's nostalgic shame: Henry's Roman nose was among his final thoughts when he cast off their earthly shackles. And a question materialized from the tainted folds about the longevity of ancient mammals. You see. The judge was a welder of finite proportions.Governor Schwarzenegger was sitting across the aisle at the afternoon baseball game. Where in hell was this sad figure? Ah. But I cannot be expected to remember the details of an artistic perjury trial that pitiful. . I never meant to be mean. He was reanimated like Erasmus Darwin's electric rocks on the steps of city hall. In the basement bathroom. she blew him like desert dust. I hear George hearing a megaphone announcing Mr Hallam missing in the circle of Willis. Mrs Hallam. But I ended that relationship in the Oligocene When six ton ground sloths swatted down magnolia trees like horseflies.
And the fallen leaves know more about higher powers than any higher power. they all sold off the family stock before it was going to plummet. Overpopulation & underpopulation are twin issues to be discussed at next year's global summit. . heretics! for the watchers grasp the invisible agony of the Stellar's Jay roar. A brigade of saviors will balloon us Out of a lifetime of boredom in Khan Yunis. It was James who mistook his brother Daniel for a tasty underground network of mycelium. That moment the twelve-part crowing of Chanticleer Marked the beginning of the getting filthier. So they chose art & science over procreation. His antepenultimate act of indecency was attacking his mother with an Ego Paintball Gun loaded with Berkelium. Daniel has become allergic To the mosquitoes bred in the oil slick. Chastise me.There were no towels left in the closet in Autumn 2006 when Mrs Hallam finished taking her last shower. Is it unprofitable to put her in your bonds & use her remaining labor? James has eaten elephant slugs & slumber slugs And wallaroo slugs & cucumber slugs.
not a poem about Everest. did I do it alone? I find love only be keeping my travel plans flexible. each road sign I chew like a lotus. but deeper the freefalls of the stalactickle. Was it only three thousand feet? I convince myself of success. Then returns to his muse this autumn in a pumpkin. Stay up here not as a mystic or guru. more like a social hermit. farther more theoretical. literally build this fantasy. Each summer. from the beach up to the tree line. I’ll shut this closet door & transcend irony. She as my guide has abandoned me to gravity. Clean up in my tiny corner my own self-fulfilling mess. My feet & hands guided by imagination Can construct. I have forsaken the news. And lay me down. I change a broken civilization only by writing secret sad songs – I am elected vice-president! I procreate ten thousand firstborn sons! American Literature has left desolate all sincerity. My way has become – not mud! idiots! – but wet utilizable clay. the history of today. One poet is king but I am the silent prophet of the Saracen. I’ll never tell people why it’s not completely wise to eat pig meat. I’ve started singing limericks about the non-linearness of time. Each stone tablet is a false prophecy of the present! Was it towards Guillaume Dufay I should direct my focus? I’ve eaten my map. I’ll just act according to modern liberal guilt. O tall’s the fir. I’ll repeat myself until I am remembered. only marmots can ask me for rent. but it’s thought of some great puns. no fuss about the lack of pay – At this elevation. What little I can do with a rusty bicycle. now a burden. some reason to act all righteous. So is my climb defined by its proceeding rest. I think I’ve achieved something. A virgin songwriter begins by imitation. Her lust is closer stronger. . my compass is wrapped up in my tent. My tinker’s brain can destruct this reality. stone steps past waterfalls.Lift Him Up Up thru this gorge. I forget again. Can fashion roots of kingdoms more than magical. this bicycle – I only used it for revolutionary calls – The fall’s like how non-divine angels recline – Is at my side. Three thousand foot ascent. still a protest.
he’s already thinking about a poem he’ll write about this walk of dangling participles. he runs like a century.Celebrity Canto Let’s take a walk thru history with an American icon. but there he goes. Historians will disagree about whether he was depressed at this time or pretty happy. Meanwhile. but who has found time to read his last one? Now he pauses on the Piazza. . Compared to the trials of Hercules he admits that he is no Hercules. And he’s written a lot of books. He ascends a mountain of fine light. it’s all been done before in particles. Sure! He collects rare shards of colored glass from Turkey & Italy. He has a brief adventure involving batrachian nepotism & a gutterful of shit.
There is an eruption of sympathy & he finds time to masturbate to an old John Ford movie. losing himself. but no need to explain. Then. He knows he looks good in that suede suit. But I know & you know that he was always focused on his public characterization. deafening huzzas! The gospel trombone & his mother awakes. he does a gay little dance & slips into a gooey pit. but it’s out of style by the time he gets to the Louvre. . He considers this when he considers every step he takes. The Chancellor of Germany sent her condolences. A small press illegally publishes his letters to his mistress. but sent it at the wrong time on the wrong train.The mainstream media licks its lips thinking about every step of it. But the mainstream media realized they could sell more papers by popular music democratization. Hark! thumps. The media quickly sidetracks & reports that his mother died in those earthquakes. He was trying to bide his time by walking around the block again. Scholars think that his imminent divorce was preoccupying his psyche. claps. His wife actually was just raising a big stink about House-Elf Emancipation. & he sues them into bankruptcy: They were just being opportunistic.
but mine has gone home in a flurry. My ex-wife’s face was the crime of the century. He converts to Mormonism! He jumps up & down in J. I can finally database my shard collection. House Arrest! There have been worse fates for Saloth Sar & the late Sheriff’s Deputy. The penguins are finally safe from your scrutiny. Your televisions are all pointed North. every last one of you pundit assholes! My memoirs will be impenetrable. . The British National Dish may be curry. & the historians can rot in my impunity.His wife leaves him like a free radio blitzkrieg. Edgar Hoover’s stilettos for all the world to see. but her breasts have gotten flopsy. I’ll admit to raping half of the penitentiary! How many volumes can even my most devoted enthusiast stomach? Remember the earlier puddles? But it’s all given me some space to breathe. but he loses her & finds ten more corseted supermodels. The Celebrity His Aria: I’ll condemn you all to the Ninth Circle. Now his mistress is in every magazine.
A. Hybrid helicopters have wounded my core & shield. Garfield.Song of Dung & Defenestration My fatigue for the next war is no accident. There's hummus all over her face. Let's just ask her. when the first female president Returns. her vulva will be snipped by the late James A. Now freeways usually clogged with traffic are choked in smoke. in a culture of two-&-a-half hours? I squeeze a lime in your cocktail of pain. Are you ready for a Californian high-speed train? To marry L. she says she means no discord. .F. & blood on her token black cloak. I will block funding for all beehives & your precious oxalis flowers. She says the revolt of laboratory bunnies was never seeking its own reward. & S. In heaven.
does it grow new leafs as fast as it loses the old ones? Her voice-mail inbox is full. Angels. Señor. not so much eternally. but superficially. Her daughter published a book about pregnant teenaged mosquito lepers. One righteous dude too many. modern juggling. The politics of the super-rich are buried in carrion. And she was discovered at six a. poetry. & cursed the fin de siècle. I wonder.When asked if she would attend the lost ballet. A guest in the guest-house. never Matisse's supine ruin. Only edible Porcini? those pigs should be allowed to turn around & return as. & no one cares. Our Lady of Past Winter had the bibacity to drink the Watergate Papers. her anarchist friends are failing precipitously. It was a bestseller at Stanford.m. ages golden but beholden of puns. And after they were divorced. arrogate my brain-child & blow me. Fleeing from the bent sword & grooviness. My exclusive rights to programming cable soccer have been diluted due to the Russian flu. a Knight of the Mannerheim Cross. Leakage. Albion. in plainclothes leaving the residence of a sumo wrestler. but where's our heroine? I hear her thru the wall discussing the coup. she danced a maidmarian.& not too soon. My man Tom was an avuncular uncle despite his penectomy. . She objectified objective music. however. her hemorrhoids were tossed to the furnace. She is seventeen years old. diaphany! . unlike the rest of you squares.
An uncanny funeral with an uncanny drumbeat. Like a muse. I remember only her pelvis. And like a Borscht-belt comedian. listen to them eructating the future's judgments. get them besmudged hence! The cheesiest composers have found words to rhyme with Argentina.with Passenger Pigeons & the Bluebeard of the Silesian Railway . to keep copying jokes from the Romans. & trashing the presidential suite at the Hotel Dis. What were the motives for Hitler's vegetarian diet? But now that she is dead. But I loved her. Your dominion to the end of the earth. no puny feat. & the road is spooky quiet. I rejoice when the Western train is on time.has vanished. she advises me to keep repeating myself until I get noticed. the doctors know it. See your omniscience will hit the non-believers in the forehead as a sudden awesome paroxysm. no. The cabaret has gotten boring since they banned heterosexual can-cans. . Her loudest broadcasts were insufficient to dike up the flashflood of Evangelical Environmentalism.I have licked the fleshy part of her thigh for the penultimate time! So she will never be content with her secretaries. This Hate Triangle . With the cows I ruminate our infinite hours.
Song of Defecation
America has named most of its daughters Emma or Emily, My eldest daughter is riding into St Louis atop a thirty-foot-tall camel. You have sinned against Warren Buffet's family: To me, you a like a poop from the snakiest animal. Repent! heroes & lovers! Mormons & Scientologists! I am alive, our land is theocracy & sound-bites. My daughter was famous for five minutes for her monsterslaying quests, Now she lives naked on the streets with no bananas & no rights. Lay down, we tire of championing the Third Amendment. Sleep & dream of breasts & dream of the pope's topiaries. There are still worms underneath Interstate Five, awaiting their return to their covenant. The man in all red chokes & collapses at the pub, another of hope's canaries.
Here is my daughter again, never calling except when she's broke. 4,140 angels are fighting over one muttonchop, & writing my name on their foreheads, The Sierra Nevadas erupt into a storm of purple smoke, Cannibals & vegetarians are interpreting from the same text, the same lyrics with different chords. Raspberries? So processed & distorted, no bear will touch them. I called out a Democratic campaign manager to a duel of wits, And the aggressive motherlover smashed me in the side of the head with a truncheon. I find refuge in the valleys of my mistress, for hours I have hidden there in her cruel armpits. Sing for me one of your forgotten State Songs, show me, I will listen. We decided to fund my daughter's excavation of the Ashfall fossil bed. I could sit here savoring these various sounds, but it's late & the light-rails glisten. We made her free her archaeologist slaves, Jefferson's dichotomies were impossible to wed. Speaking of nuptials, I bet it would only last six months, And it only lasted three minutes - like moon over Kennewick – Her perceptions were enlarged by a rapper exhaling sex blunts, Many things have been lost inside her, including origami cranes & a candlestick. Energy crises, flatulence or scatological humor, it's all on the table, Infinity is proven, maundering about materialism, He is a crimson savior in the drunk tank, his horse chained up in the south stable. Terrific, they say, & bound like a mouth over a furious chasm.
tongues. . Wake up. But my love is for the future of money. come back. All over North America. there is nothing we can do. figures. I cannot even weep. but she has re-christened the night Ten thousand times. bards. covered in gravy & cornmeal. A morning spent in Tijuana beneath an agave plant. The wasted red-face zombie down below the floorboards stirs. She is dead in my arms. hearts. And his brain explodes. but I am not. out of the county paradigm. & Pluto's flickering gaslight. poets cannot. a sexy cowboy antichrist. I am real. scribes. She will never change her last name. I argued for weeks with her biographer about plumbing the thumb. Where is the plastic surgeon for these celebrities? My daughter hardly looks like herself anymore. I must be to the asphyxiated miners as a shepherd is to his lost sheep. And send all of your Emmas & Emilys back up where they came from. but one teetotaling prophet concurs. I shot her ex-husband in the face with a razor gun: even pacifists like ourselves can occasionally let down our integrities. Paul Robeson! Your lowest note is the military's highest. somehow not heeded. I remember the planet.You call me a mountebank.
Her bus-stop bench is worn down. here we go. waiting for her savior: Perhaps it was his dipsomania or the crypto-syringe which held him up. We were necking in the corner accompanied by the mariachi band. after his journey. Luckily. His rat-ass is less specific. A cowboy deep in the Pacific. I had never felt this style of pain. It was during the year I was dating a woman named Lousera Comasquerapes. Los Sphincteres. Hiding behind the drapes in God's mansion. In the end. tone-deaf. Somewhere an identity was altered. His name is called Terrific. he could not have smelled equipped. Bicycling across the ocean floor. the enemy of the future escapes. with no paranoia & no worries. the thief's violin sonata was deterred.Saga of Jenny I. . Lousera was too busy for me. past millions of species & ravaging war. my ego faltered. So.
the wings of a swallow at least. anticipating the phone to click. Warm & curing a missing flu. we would take to the clubs. And we were dancing upon the throne of days. And where is Jenny thru this to-do? She's smiling in San Francisco. . a child is born. I haven't seen her in two years. like the bawdy eclectic.I remember Lousera Comasquerapes. she was my grandest lover. a wild beast: In high 1995 outfits. green-faced & ecstatic.
we'll go around the omnipresent. our native housing project. Naked & cross-eyed. "Follow me until you're done with me. what remains of the pain. where was I? Our brains are infected by every local notion. "I will accept but not explain. "Dry up the wine stain. my love. "Come down from the ceiling crack.Astronauts. drink me." . I had never been intimate with such ugliness. "I feel thirst in my dirtiest panties. "I see her jalapeños blindlies. heated. Trampled by a herd of Giant Unicorns . & on the bottom. And found happiness in this abyss. like squirrel meat or pheasant. "We'll return to school early like a mathematics prodigy." Aching. where are you. stoned & hewn. "I cannot hear Jenny chortling kindlies. "I am your girl until Holmes Comet. My perceptions were down. Lousera said to me: "The bricks fell down. eat me. come to my bed & be forever free. fuzzy on the top. In 2002 she stank of piss. our hearts. where are the prodigal lagomorphs. fuzzy. like squab. ravishing beauty. Thru the worm-hole to heaven. "Complain.Revived Thin-Plated Rhinoceroses wasted & smushed but not defeated. my largest towel is open out of respect. but I think Lousera Comasquerapes said to me: "Come from the West.
" .Still life with sore knees. "Study the asphalt & iron. without pity. clogged this traversable passage to that black hole. drive insanity. without love. without agony. shush. "We have ruined it. confused noise & rum! "Cannot eat last year's banana-fish. over-stocked. an Indian sailor playing a harmonium! Lousera Comasquerapes came to me & said: "Build up our crazy coastal city. "We have caught our final tuna-fish. "Cannot sell next century's laguna-fish.
a lonely old playboy. Like a subterranean conquistador. I feel a story pass from a Pentecostal Minister visiting without his bow tie: About a proud brother returning. a pilgrim to everywhere: I've lost sensation in my legs. And Mary & Martha & Louise & Johanna. Risible & before time began. California. Not to be envious of the world's turning. the entrance to my lifespan. watching the nurses float by. I need affirmation. . Lousera is out there somewhere. a monstrous ancient buffalo of pleasure & echinacea. & the older son learning. exasperating her patience.II. A festival. mirroring my mindlessness. nude under my robe. A black man & a visible man. moles & voles & treasure enough to share. Lousera's humongous breasts are weighing down the basketball court. but gained peace in East Asia. Now in the hospital. prancing over the sleep-sheep's fence.
she said her wet dream train was finally arriving. piloting a ship of shit. Whether I watch them or not. & recalled the years of living & conniving: "Come stretch your pinions & hold me. expanding my imagination. "Every activity is our unique joy. I am a sow in a gestation cage. Some serious lamentations! And a few good jokes. "Yoga & pilates & a hot toddy. And the nurses on water around me. The fireworks will be shot. She called me on the two-way radio. but not to distill certain right revolting energies. He swept my hours under his toilet rug. I poured a double shot into a glass of ice." . But not by our progeny . and six hundred varieties of fungus. For the price of these battles. The police won't let him pull my plug. towards unknown husbands. I'll be a robot on a planet of rot. a rampage of youthful infernal disease.The machinations on the board of supervisors went unnoticed by our spies. His diagnosis is a reluctant shrug." Lousera Comasquerapes once told me. Her vexation at this dimness.but I had been transferred to oblivion by then. We failed to nourish & educate. we could send every itinerant into deep space. letting slip the final amen again & again. I replaced them & wasted them & now those old girls are distant from my decaying face. covered to my canopy in excrement & moss. Kicking off my doctor's cacophony & vile prophecy & violent deities.
soon is the jubilee year. "My entire living room is filled with pillows. "Just love it. "And wallow in perfection. like an archetypal pig-in-a-poke.Aching. Sandy. "Our waste is another man's confection." . our baby will forgive our debt. Lousera had said to me: "Come mount me like the lifting up of smoke! "You cannot complain about which portion of the infinite you inherit. & do your best not to trash it. "Greek proportions & Washington's erection.
Lousera Comasquerapes had said to me: "You'll die far from Golden Gate Park. & also leaving. just be present. it's done. a pirate departing with the next cannon. Jenny made her mind up when she was three. "And Christ in the form of a walking shark." . "You'll keep discovering things you couldn't have believed.Found in a forest of briers & thorns. I was never warned. She's there for her kindness. & I must give up for adoption our infant son. "You'll regret every song heard in the dark.
Songs & River Reports
"You and the smarmy pundits in your pocket – those who bathe in the moisture of your soiled and blood-soaked underwear -can take that noise and shove it." -Sean Penn
but I will not eat the fig. . One million dollars will be my just reward. I will spend the night. Older than the waves today is. if you please. Nancy. But first I will sit here & be sad. Swim to Ireland until you learn the trick. I want it all. the way is the dais. the year of the pig? One last round should make the sky alright. Where were we. And we will re-order until we've passed the border.M. Over the top. what we never had. Mack the Knife slices a chunk off my spinal cord. I'll wear the fig leaf. We ruminate out infinite hours. Nancy. There are no more songs in my head. There's always a pub within running distance when it rains. there's no bookend. Derelict pavilions from my halcyon flapper remains. the service is finished.Report from the Tyne Somewhere something suddenly happened. I only used it for twentieth century music. I bequeath you this old tape recorder. keep walking. The limousine should come at Six A. Amen. If you insist. Crossing the seventh bridge on the Quayside. Fair is the air where the cows have stopped farting. we've sung the tedium. now I am departing. Knee-pads shield the sailor's sore knees. bonny Nancy.
Listen to me, hobos, with your feet not with your ears: The salvation train no longer goes thru Portland: One beer-swilling infant caused war for two thousand years, Like dried-up camel tears, Next century's preachers will drop from your face, & be forever banned. The winter is past due, the fine is tremendous, My love is a dodecahedron upon a fractal mountain, The prophetess' jaw is locked up, but perhaps she just has Tetanus, A virgin except for her clitoris, She does not know the silent futurity, eternal jail for the whisky fountain.
Fall like amber locks, your robe torn off like lust & descent: The wind hears you partying with another man in Orange County. This rotten paradise was never meant to be misspent, I have forgotten to pay the rent, Pulsing beneath her t-shirt are several answers, lost booty, lost bounty. You have to come up before you go down on the earth. Do you remember that nice man with weird hair who killed his monster baby? She told him it wasn't the antichrist, just more trouble than it was worth: The birth of a subversive reversal, So they added an eighth lane to the flaming freeway, no fin whale will judge their infamy. Hobos & tramps, you need to ask me more questions, I miss her, We are sober in different ways, missing in America's décolletage. Pillaging & taxing, & surging with grief, & raped by a dinosaur incisor, None the wiser until I kiss her, Your eardrums beating with these vibrations on hell's watch. The rain is over - Are you paying attention, Miranda? - come ask her apes, What to bring as a present for a child who will end materialism? She told him this wasn't the incorporeal rapture, just a stain on the images of cityscapes, Put those walking feet toward stamping grapes, And help me celebrate our victory, the chiefest beloved in Folsom Prism.
And the rain & the radiation will get better soon. Like only a dangerous professor of dentistry can complain. Itinerant & bloody. swinging door & I hear flip-flops approaching. It's a far cry from Coventry. While she was sleeping. it's been scrubbed down past its Catholic Colours to an angsty whiteness. Bold Street & Penny Lane were both named after slave traders. this wine is my gin & tonic. Please turn it up several notches higher. I could live forever only within your expectoration. Oh! Brittany. & explain. Don't loath me for my centuries of cockroaching. If you can stand to filibuster until past nightfall. Forsooth. This bread is my bread. I slipped my hand into her stomach. You were a cardinal figure before my phony heartless attack. there was no honeymoon. And other truisms. Zounds! this planet is inhabited by a velvety silence. your white hair breaks like the ocean. the saloon totally empty. Forsooth. but what is rock & roll music with the violins? And powdered drinks like Tang have been replaced by watercress. sober rooms at the smokeless Philharmonic. the graduates will flow thru the doors now. Finish drinking your bitterness while I wave the waitress.Report from the Mersey Brahms & Liszt. Then I'll only sing four more verses before the floorshow. . Zounds! & we know the reason for the cathedral. goodby city of expediency. Forsooth. A creaky. a blistering day.
A stream of yellow liquid pouring from the drooping pewter cup. six dreams created. His consciousness upon a hill. The middle air. or just hear them hummin'. not going right. he ceases standing nor not standing up. a beacon & a dragon. drunk on datura & puffer-poisons. whatever. measure for measure! Or maybe they won't come. aware. or we won't know. rife for the hanging. And is he buried in a box. rapture. things might change. And thru the floor he falls into the earthy hellish night. America! Drink beer! Get sober! There's a drought a-comin'! The humble bees are swarming toward the cave of our displeasure: It's justice. but terrified of the imminent dawn: His love is like a rainbow after hours. to fell his inner canopy. alive. Well. not going left. A Worm of Might. karma. & new utopias approaching slowly– Our sunken cowboy. . terrible. Will rise again. asphyxiated. nothing.Manichæn Song A glass of wine in hand. peace pending the freemasons– His sword of virtue on the horizon.
– Then we will shout & sing. Tiny boys sport around the vendors. then we become the heroes we forgot. And Feynman discovers an infinite clock & a train that runs on fission. we cross it again. then crumbles in again. old maids serve refried gruel. And when the fascists outlaw opium & herbal tea. And execute the leader of the Marxist Opposition. the theater of the senses. A line is drawn. Debs. & all that lot. & John Denver's legacy. . ever weakening our defenses. And we'll drink whiskey & discuss Eugene V. I had bet on eternal damnation for the atheists. I won five dollars. Or at least we'll write long poems crucially criticizing the core of their policy. He stands. And the lobbyists for the lumber trade burn a secret plastic tree.The Scribe of Pennsylvania! The giant lizard of the deists! Stentorian organ chords accompany this epic duel. always tied up in the stable with those rusty cars. And I'll canonize my Great-Great-Grandfather. Then he eats some cheese & some grapes & studies the stars. His horse is bored.
Both he & we reborn as zombies in a mock-Apocalypse. Our horses. And Washington we'll prematurely burn. . cars bearing flesh & blood & bread & wine. returning Eastward on a perfect latitudinal line. Into the cinematic sunset.O screw the Pope! Let's schism & schism & schism! He'll never know! We'll convert the savages to our American religion of baffling diversities! Give honorary doctorates to cartoonists at our universities! For sure the blue whale will still be mating deeper than we'll ever go. camels. & darken in a fool's eclipse.
any way. We will exterminate the rats. & their ancient bounty. And yet there's huge emotion in the sing-song. I'm just staring across at the cross in her cleavage. I sense the dawn of a dark blue-green age. dog's nipples . A tricky u-turn for the canal boat: His rapping was nonpareil. regurgitate too late & we must call it quits. Ding. . Nonsense! Please pick up a pallet of biscuits. Bicycle bells hectoring me like parliament. Or the sun's son joyriding with the raiment as his bloody pavement. Nonsense will guide me about the city walls. Squeezing to rhyme around my angels sacred freefalls. his gold diamonds twenty-four karat. Christ our Darling will the motorcycle watchmen relieve. No. It's cold & the black swans are getting everything wrong. Bricks or Martin Luther's tricksiness I believe. A pint with you & the present president is history. Dog's nipples. I'd be just as happy healthy with them anyway. & the future is eclipsed by white paintings under blacklight: A mile-long housing project. Nonsense nor the Cheshire Cat have shown their grins today.how quick you forget. I adored you. no track-suits after the night. but soon there'll be no time to regret.Report from the Dee We have been hacking away at the stump of the Tree of Mystery. Retch at the pink wine popular in this county. sister.
then reappear As Third Citizen. And politicians squabble for a space upon the stage? Where are the earls who drown. second from the left? Where are the labyrinths of logic.Song of the Theater Why don't the soldiers speak in poetry. where the bottomless wells of rage? Where is the theater with no commercials? .
And when the hippies take the street with banners The powers will point their cameras toward the dirtiest of the haters. My soliloquy only the audience will hear. The powers will spin their cameras on the clouds & under the craters. And be the grin behind my grinning mask: No martyrdom a garb the tyrant wears as his disguise! No. But my revenge will not be televised. The Jack Cade of the Revolution howls. Revenge shall be the spaces between my words. I rhyme with sacred words they have forgotten. The powers deploy their mirrors & holograms to tax his peace. But I will write a silent five act play. my revenge will undermine his smirk. The powers will evoke historical dichotomies. I will sustain by eating locally. But my revenge is written in the void. When did the understudy lose his place? How could the scenery fall down when all the ruins looked real? When did the tongue of rhetoric trip up? Or was the director drunk when his wife slept? And what immoral prankster changed the cardboard sword for steel? Who turned the tinted water into wine? .Revenge shall be my final secret earthquake. Assassination always is a tool your foe's friends can utilize.
Curse the filthy queue to get into the old library. I will finish the hanging gardens with PVC. I only needed to get onto the internet for fifteen minutes. We'll name each of our daughters Kirsten. Twelve in two hours. The stars will come out when the Chinese have been subdued. I will let you be who we all want you to be. Poor Tom knows when to invade the radio. I say there's way way too many tourists. Well. but this stool has been glued. I can drink this obscure beer.Report from the Liffey Thank heaven for heathens. I've taken care of the family business. And too few ways to avoid midnight arrests. you'll find your harp inside the piano. I say. Out from the showers into a public house again. O International City! you smell like a bulging penguin. morning of durable pain. Harpo. I couldn't even finish my first one. Freedom fries & a choice to digest the embarrassing enterprise. I fear the government is in cahoots with the Inuits: You wouldn't think these garlick Gaelicks could make a veggie burger of any quality. . The rain subsides. Before they banned slavery in Belgium. I will be a role-model to the wheel'd basketball. The direction of the creek toward the sea was not the last surprise. And I might as well drink the rest of this first one after all.
I demonstrated blowing a perfect smoke ring to a bookstore oligarch. And seeds from the plantations. Waiting for the walking shark. With lovers & fighters. our editors & our patience.Song of the Shisha I have smoked my nargileh with holy men & singersongwriters. I discussed the end of racism with the lost generations. This talk-show knows no boundaries. stolid & terse. our eyes rolled upward. Recherché. cheese. I have smoked my nargileh with Dennis Kucinich & Alan Keyes. And we dabbled in America. white tea. .
. We must renew the bowl. Eternal inhalations. Crucified on criss-crosses. the waitress has been tipped thirty percent. now pass me the proboscis. let the smoke reinvigorate his fossils. the midair thickly with suspense. Laws & lawyers & disco fleeing. And with a right-wing blowhard covered in boils. Let's stay here. This non-manufactured dialog broadcast to the nations. Forty-five Spider Monkeys climbing on Jenny Ruth. We turned down the radio & let the conversation freeze in feeling. Fertile in the darkest mud. I will invite this galaxy to the table. Library's circular descent. Micromanaging the painting of the white fence. The chandelier grimacing & the fog of our exhalations. The sensation between our nostrils & sacred truth. Our goals & coals are finest lemon-tree wood.There was a gay Marfan who laid on the ceiling. Munching on his own snaky coils. I left my prostate upon the crystal pavement. One last old man joins us on the rug.
mix my smelly armpits into this salvation's cauldron.Report from the Dargle A palinode & walking off the whiskey. It's like water without the cruel aftertaste: The corps of coral can trace its ancestry Down the coast past the sexiest incestry. And I'll join you on your first crash-landing: Hope Jacob's Ladder is made of stronger stuff than hope. Scribble you courage on a sticky-pad. And the carillon & my carillon only really used for the ding-dong. . Prima donna & the roots of man will not be replaced. It's like water without bees & stop signs & lost children. His intentions are as translucent as flannel. Help me to find meaning in sitting & standing. An old man approached me from the channel. Don't be alarmed by the blues in my blood. Would it be fiscally risky to mortgage the village? I threw a wish into the Irish Sea. I never liked Bishop Berkeley's ugly old neighborhood. but you knew it all along. His hipster hairdo without too much spillage. Remember when things could never have been this bad. It's like water but without the chemicals in your soap. I can assuage your pangs without passion or caring. And of course. My legs are weary from a life of wayfaring. It's a revelation.
Song of the Cannonball Sent by a rash love. And one more taken when the silence attacks. Praised by a senator and the terrorists and worse. A polygamous investment. A long fence thru a field of decay and cannibal rattlesnakes. An orgy of hurricanes and airplanes and earthquakes. A pestilent flowerpot or two. . And three metaphors and two blunt facts. The rhetoric of morality. A mess of gray books in a maze. Denounced by beards and drunks. Denounced by hippies and scholars and punks. Endlessly illuminated by essays. a birthday pony. A request for return from the orphaned widowers. Immortally entombed in a flatulent statue. the persistency to believe in his mistakes. Praised by historians and pundits and a ragtime's curse. Calling out to the threshold of impartiality. And sand summoned by a ceaseless wave. And three borrowed and four more lent. A dwarf & a giant fettered in matrimony. A stream of lies and the solemn reality Tied together in a cave.
Song of the Victors
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Page to our moral rectal-tude! Our shields shall be recycled into staplers, Our tanks & ships will be remolded, I am not averse to the most averse! A yellow banner stream across my brow, A tattoo of love just below my bikini-line, Hope & courage, come out of your redoubt, Come out & be together & be forever mine. Clouds in the shapes of cloud-shaped clouds, Spreading like an octopus, lost in its own ink, Found in the confined feedlot, lost in the Austin crowds, My sons will soon be home, salvaged & perfectly pink. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Page to our stamina! Hyphens & hymens! The marriage of desire & old cheese. Those untoward terrorists submit to the winner, Turn my plastic cheek & repose upon couches of peace.
Gospel of the Shisha
I. The perfect ring of smoke is a perfect circle. Thru the smoky rings thru smoke, a great round wonder rolling thru space can be perceived. You cannot blow a dragon or a sailboat, but a perfect circle can be blown & can hang in space until it dissolves. The perfect circle hates a honeycomb, but a hungry circle finds all bitter things to be sweet.
In one sense the smoke ring is a creation of the room, so consider. In another sense the smoke ring is a creation of our eyes, so reflect. How much control does our mouth have? Awaken in the fumes of the smoke.
Let there be smoke in the middle airs, & let it divide the airs from the airs. The rings of smoke are subject to the whims of the tides of airs. The perfect ring of smoke is as much a whim of the tides of the airs as the hungry ring of smoke. If you do not try to blow the perfect circle, the tides of the airs will dash the smoke into nonsense. When you blow the perfect circle, it will hang in the air & then disappear into nothing. The tides of the airs helped as much to create the perfect circle as they conspired to blow it into nonsense. An imperfect circle in the air is better than a perfect circle inside your mouth.
Does the smoke blow the air or does the air blow the smoke? Discuss & fade away. child of the smoke. A perfect circle has been blown outside of the Father. Breathe slower. The smoke & the air are one. it was dashed into nonsense. The smoke cuts into the air & disappears into the air. The smoke & the air are different colors at first & invisible at last. You see plenteous airs & you are short of breath. but being unsound. make your breathing perfect. You exhale divine perfumes but the middle airs dash them into nothingness. & your breathing will beget more breathing. so consider. .Jesus said. so reflect & awaken. but your excretions are lopsided & unsound. You can breathe deeply.
& I am lain upon the ground.II. I sit upon the ground & weep until the floor is wet. Who will save me from this prison? Who will lower a ladder for me into this pit? For the shisha has deprived me of my life force. When the righteous are in authority. Tonight it has deprived me of my life force. Once the shisha made me rise up & gave me the strength of ten thousand men. The shisha has taken away my deepest breaths. & the voices of the people are shallow. When the wicked rules. My roots soar with the eagle & my brain is in Mexico. O child of the smoke. I arise from the shisha with strength. My arms stretch from the eastern sea to the western sea. The air is completely changed to smog & the streets are the color of bitumen! Where once I did rejoice. perceive the corpse borne slowly from the house. now I cannot detect my rings of smoke in this hoary chaos. The bards of the plains are corroborating with my flesh. my rings are hungry. .
& I from here consider the immortality of the universe. When I inhale. For the wicked is in authority. There is a great quaking of the earth. There is no logic to the shisha. my hands are not connected to my wrists. every bar & chain. every fetter & gray wall of the prison is shaken & falters. The months & days of years have undergone a great many pains. Tuesday returns. Each particle of my flesh disseminates. . & alas! they flow no more.Redemption does not occur at the end of time. III. The stars are falling. My feet are not connected to my ankles. the seal is broken. I gather together my elect from the four winds. Redemption is eternal & the end is eternal. The veins of my body are all the rivers of the earth. Because of this. & either the sky is brought nearer to my eyes or my eyes are brought nearer to the sky. I am cold. Wednesday returns. & the shisha has deprived me of my life force. My soul is loosened. & the mustard seed is like the kingdom of God. unless the end of time is understood to mean every moment. It is like the mustard seed.
Come the eclipse. tell it to the whores at night court. Please don’t tell these ancient whores Nevada’s laws of patrimony. Hear. I will remain down on this carpet seated cross-legged like a Japanese monk. if it wasn’t simony.Song of the Shisha There have been missed opportunities. My secret place uncovered at the ocean’s lowest phase. the stars are all the brighter for it. I’d sell you saved coals. Some men always found it too fruity. This universe is not quite at my level. times I should have agreed to take the bottom bunk. Some men find it inappropriate in the workplace. my water pipe has saved me from the plantation. Some leave it behind after college graduation. or thought it was necessary to be South-West Asian. There have been losses & mistakes. . & hide behind the sun & moon. & lo. Sacramento has come & gone. girls I should have approached at the train station. And tho some women are lousy earthquakes.
Gilt in chrome. lit dimly with my oily abdomen’s glistening. There will be a new leader. The air is thick with aromatic incense. Tobacco has this power & so it is the third-hand fume. freshly polished from the second womb. I am lightheaded but I can still walk home. This hookah is for the present: smoke it like you mean it. And blowing rings into the room. we are in the city’s last remaining smoking oasis. . & today I am listening. My new wife is monologing about her quirky parents.A true man is still sucking at the nargileh’s proboscis. & here a start for the closet library. That man will be seated beside me. reach up & grasp this chance while I’m offering it. And curtain down on the creator’s theater. I will carry you to the quarry. Fall far down into the crater.
when I blush. & shall it ever be. I am not ashamed. Ashamed of our ways. That I have forgotten to honor the ground from where I came. Just as soon let my barbiturate-induced glossolalia fail to be perceived as sacred. I am not ashamed of it. Sooner far let evening disown its strangest star.. Ashamed of the natural Earth & his conceits? No. that scientists & houris praise? I hope its glories are allowed to self-perpetuate thru endless days. Sooner far let the Ghosts of Anchorage raid the bazaar. Just as soon let cheese-making nuns be ashamed of the moon.Report from Corinth The Earth. I don't cover up its embarrassing bits with pavement. Sooner far let them shun their bodies & the cheats' receipts. be this my shame. Ashamed of it. extending from every orifice. Like vines. . Ashamed of the Earth? Just as soon let the mermaid be ashamed of the midnight lagoon. our hearth & our glorious days? Am I ashamed of the resources with which I create my continuing heaven? No.
Columbia Canoeing Song
Jamie's in the same boat. From Alexandria down a meaningful river, Write down these words & kill them with a quiver. Go down towards places less remote: And ask nicely & I'll allow you to quote me on my thistly artichoke-flower parade float. Buttocks & buttocks & metal in the brains, Order the ESB & pine for young Liverpool. From the hour the dwarfs burnt up the Elementary School To the ice neath Nebraska's forgotten plains, Step on these Steppes & defrost these pagans.
or. . Jamie. when in season. And run out into the field. Bury me in dead mayflies. You're visiting long after your friend has left for Bulgaria. Finally. your freedom's downstream! Drown Broadway with your acidic urine! Learn how to complete your father's sentences. The constellations control the lottery. a savory dessert & a flasher. When girls wore black bangs & tucked their pants in. you will be clean & weaned of factory steam. not your mother's dark cryin' .Row. One corporation owns all the coolest bars in town. not your mother's cryin'. Jamie. I hate the shorter members of the fire department. & let's recall this shithole's mayor & replace him with some unelected freak. And you would always lose my wallet when we went out dancin'! Turnips on the breath & for everyone a nasty answer. your hosiery! Our Jamie's run out of creek: The meatless alternative is more often tastier. Resurrect these words & write them as I speak. And for the permanent camper. There was a time. The mayor was assassinated in unfolding clouds thru the window of his Brownstone.emancipate the supporting beam. remember.
If we go fast enough & pull up just as we hit those rocks, we might, if we're lucky, clear the ravine & have the ride of our lives! On the other hand, if we miss, we'll probably spend our few remaining days hooked up to machines & intravenous fluids! It's either spectacular, unbelievable success, or crushing, hopeless defeat! There is no middle ground! OK, there is a middle ground, but it's for sissy weasels. -Bill Waterson, Calvin & Hobbes
Doggerel Poem about Helicopters
What are helicopters doing when they fly above? Is it for money or is it for love? Do you need a reason or do you just go? Won't you take me for a ride up above San Francisco? Would a helicopter swarm cause the people to alarm? Is your fuel from Saudi or is it from a corn farm? If I used one to commute, would I get to work early? Won't you take me for a ride up above Berkeley?
A theater troupe in Naples. Or at least till we Begin the Begein. This exhaustive endeavor Will last till forever. New York-ass Had employed as its resident dork-ass A hard-shoe tap dancer With a question for an answer. By Tuesday had reached South Carolein.Two Limericks A Tango that started in Bloemfontein. . At sushi he always ordered pork-ass.
away! I have no time for your books today! I have no time for Evelyn Waugh And if I did. I have already read Brideshead Revisited. Evelyn Waugh. Laurence: .Doggerel Poem about Evelyn Waugh Away. I would probably spend it upon a see-saw! Even if I had time for Evelyn Waugh-tays. Evelyn Waugh-rence. I don't especially like Condoleeza Rice either. Or Democratic Astronauts named Glenn. And if I did. Do you expect me to read it again & again? I have no time for you. I have no time for a man named Evelyn. Or men named Gwen or Len or Jen. I thought you were a woman named Evelyn. I would spend it looking at Titian's Martyrdom of St. I read one of your books when I was a kid. neither. I would probably spend it drinking decaf soy lattes.
Evelyn. Evelyn Waugh. Away. away! I'll read your nineteen novels & extensive travel diaries another day! . And I don't care about posh socialites in the twenties. Evelyn. I don't know much about World War One. I got an abscess gall behind my ear. And I had to take a pretty strong antibiotic. But if I had a cent for every word you wrote. I'd have a lot of pennies. what do you fear? Was Oxford really so homoerotic? When I went to Oxford.What are your loves.
like this prophecy from the Webb Block. There are submerged forests just past the beach. Some spiders look like walruses Fighting dying polar bears from their polar webs. The somnambulists have grown corpulent from their ambient binges. Eugene V. Debs. . Debs. And some build them low. And I can guess why. Xanadus Interuptus. A fake door is off its hinges. Eugene V. And I have heard the presidents singing each to each. But the Imagination has a poor lock. Some spiders can neither walk nor talk.Doggerel Poem about Spiders & Birds Some spiders build their webs up high.
Some birds are actually spiders or walruses. Silent! I hear the presidents taking their sleeping pills. But no birds are crawling incubuses. it's the first place I look. Huge underwater birds catch dugongs in their webs. That phony door has been completely obliterated by dynamite! The ancient summits of the Atlantean hills Are covered in campfires. the night before the fight. .Many birds don't use their wings for flight. Eugene V. When my table is wobbly. Eugene V. Debs. But the Endangered Species List has become a phone book. Just like you-know-who. Some birds can neither look nor cook. But of course many do. Debs.
how will he behave? If I name my daughter Thistle. I used to name my kids John or Mary. And if I named her Rubber.s.U. Bill.Doggerel Poem about Naming Babies My last name is Smith & I'm having my six billionth baby. None were named Ulysses or Ormsby or Rufus or Godfrey or Mitch. And some of the prettiest most useful flowers are on lemon trees or fig trees. she might get indicted. Mike. But eat vegetables in a hermitage & write verses of nonsense? The great-great-grandson of General William Tecumseh Sherman Is a famous linguist named Tecumseh Stitch. she might get blighted. We used to name our girls after flowers. after the former Secretary of Defense. but I'm getting more creative maybe. Would he rebel against his name. And achieve neither infamy nor blame. . but now women drive S. But all my ancestors were masons named Allan or Herman. If her name doesn't fit a CEO. will he put up another white picket fence? Or if I name him Ronald. will he eat burgers until he is immense? Or if I name him Donald. But if I name my son Adolph. or Dave.V. will she hate me to the grave? If I name my son Bob. John. Twenty percent of American Men are named Jim. Bob.
The Americans name their daughters Madison & Emma. But it gets pretty confusing up at paradise's door.If I was a yuppie. Whatever happened to Elizabeth or Bess? But I want my daughter to be unique. Like Syrah or Chardonnay or Pinot or Nebbiolo or Klingelberger. naming her after a wine would be fine. will he cut off his dingaling? O what o what to name the world's six billionth baby? Maybe I'll name him Dugong or maybe I'll name her Behemotha maybe? . You think picking the perfect name wouldn't be this big of a dilemma. But it is a death of a mess. If I name him Louis will he act like a king? If I name him Buddha will he ever eat any thing? If I name him Frodo will he have to bear a really heavy ring? If I name him after William Chester Miner. Or if she is bubbly I could name her Gewürztraminer. to go it alone-a. so I won't cross that line. But I'm not a yuppie. But I myself have never been a fan of war. The British name their daughters Penelope & Fiona. A lot of Westerners name their kids after Jesus's friends. Muslims tend to think their names are godsends.
Doggerel Accusation of Molestation
I could be immortal thru my poetry, But I would rather be famous in my lifetime, & then live forever. Finish your collard greens, Let your garments be always tusk-colored jeans. We are gentle in our success, together our lives are one terrific endeavor. I have thousands of beautiful children, Thank heavens my wives were unfaithful. Like the man from Kentucky Who let his morals become unstucky, Now he preaches bone-abstinence to the dogs in the meat-hole.
But I must follow road signs & underwear signs. I sit here perplexed by a one-piece jigsaw puzzle. The words of my heart shall be discovered Like mold spreading in the back of the cupboard. My sphincter has been scrubbed with bleach, but the geyser still doth guzzle.
Your sisters rode atop Futalognkosaurusus, But mostly the system is not that tiny. With the bad son & the diarrhea-patient you have to share it, So don't complain about which portion of the infinite you inherit. I have stumbled over the rock of offense & you have lusted after the super-skinny.
Coffee has heightened my awareness of ursine dangers, And Jane Goodall has deepened my understanding of omnivorousness. Go to the desert alone Sand & wind you become. My love is like a lifeguard at a carwash, our rhymes are a pure form of justice.
The Sad Narrative of the Big-Ass Beard on that Rutherford B. Hayes
There once was a man named Rutherford Hayes, A metrosexual, he shaved three times a days, Like a baby's butt, soft as a vagina, You could ride that wave from California to Carolina, And he knew if he rubbed it in just the right place, He would grow up to be elected the President of the United States.
Now one day he was walking thru the amber maize, That gay savant known as Rudy Be Hayes, And he came across a humble wasp called Twitty van Titt, Let me tell you about this Twitty, he was full of monkey shit, A bumble in appearance, but inside an evil sorcerer. All yellow & fuzzy, he was envious of Rutherford's virgin face, The type of chihuahua pate, if you rubbed in just the right place, It could be stamped on the currency of the United States.
And despite the buzzing voodoo of Twitty Van Titt. And you'll never grow up to be elected the President of the United States. Men of action & courage. Rutherford ushered in an age of wild bearded Presidents. summoned all the spirits of the days. history written bold across their pates. Garfield & Cleveland & Arthur & Harrison. Won the popular vote. And placed a huge curse on the face of Rutherford B. with his feminine cheeks. But Rudy Be Hayes was a gay little turnip. So when he ran against Sam Tilden in 1876. And had saved for the fates a few gay little tricks.That jealous Twitty van Titt. but was caught in the lady's lavatory huffing a whippet. Bearded & handsome. He could shave it twenty times with the sharpest of razors. & honored forever as Presidents of the United States. The New York Governor. But his beard would grow thicker than a NASA space shuttle. You need a 4-D map to get out of the jungle on that lengthy face. Hayes. .
He spilled himself another tall glass of Terra Firma. You may be an archvillain but you'll never be my motherall. Balancing on daffodils like a whale on a wire.-.Your highest note is my most guttural. Remember.The forest set cyclically on fire.-. Artie Wongay-. Remember. Remember Artie Wongay? the same galactic superstar from our rediscovered kingdom-The same false prophet of the ancients has been lurking home. Remember Artie Wongay? refusing to write another Latin opera. eat you as an obese madam. Artie Wongay-. . Remember Artie Wongay! & don't forget him! He'll follow you in your dreams.Remember Artie Wongay I.
loser.-. Artie Wongay-. scary piss.-. Remember Artie Wongay! & don't let him be forgotten-.Your lowest note is my most pathetic. Artie Wongay-. Spiriduş. you go thru me like a big borscht diuretic.Now don't let's repossess.-Till there's cucumber sandwiches in summer & highways are made out of cotton. come ask her apes. Remember. a coma. we'll swing from here to there-ish. Remember Artie Wongay? the flames? & the rodeo disco stirrapes? Are you paying attention to this. Remember. Remember Artie Wongay? like swingers. Flight of the flammivomous scarecrows. . Tangents that come out of everywhere like a coked-up priest coming out of his parish. spiriduş.II.
Remember Artie Wongay! & please don't forget him. Lock him in gyves & smell the ocean if you've ever met him. The tobacco brush in & out of love. We will do vorpal battle except for from Thanksgiving thru Chrismuth.You're a mixture of scum & bismuth. Artie Wongay-. .-. Remember Artie Wongay? the tobacco brush combust again.-. They'll spill for you another tall glass of the earth's crustice. I'm the vanguard seer of capitalism. but I mustn't complain. Artie Wongay-. Remember Artie Wongay? today I've virulent & vital.III.Tell it to the whores of night justice. I'm the actuary's meat-hole. Remember. Remember.
Artie Wongay-. the living could. There isn't room enough in any register for the two of us. Artie Wongay-.This planet is not your abattoir. Remember Artie Wongay! Don't let him be forgot! Don't let him be a robot in this wilderness of rot! . rain in Uranus. Remember Artie Wongay? savages fornicating on the side of the road. the dead could. Remember. He was my enemy & he will be again soon when the stars explode.-. Remember Artie Wongay? he torched the redwood.Your lowest note is my noblest nebulous. Remember. Snow on Mercury. scrape the ozone with her claw. In a century where you could still smoke on the bus.IV.-.
Artie Wongay-.V. Spiriduş. wine & dining her with a platitude.-. A villain of Marfan stature & a troublingly easy riddle. Remember.Slabs of granite diving up to the jive. come inside of me & stay inside & thrive. Remember Artie Wongay? he wronged you too late & too little. A virgin except where we couldn't see. Remember.-. his foulest & least forgiving quirks. . spiriduş. Remember Artie Wongay? remember his gelatinous melodramatic smirks? I tell you what I recall. Artie Wongay-.The embers of prudence & fortitude. Remember Artie Wongay! keep repeating till you can't be forgotten: The most Pyrrhic ping-pong tourney we ever fought in.
you living son of a seagull. smoke only camels.want it & grab it. bounty increases When charity is replaced by necessity & Charles has no need for pity. purple princess flower. with limited precepts. Watch me. & I will pay attention to you. & where better to have it? I need affirmation. I love a sporting life . So long as you come alone. Credentials from the Institute of Pumpkin Yellow. Our connectivity. How quick you forget our adoration & our hot tub games.Song of Supposition How come I no longer carry a pen? And where has the rum gone? The internet is for politics & perverts. to live in these cold dark shells? How come I came to this ancient city? It still has stretch-marks on its breasts. Listen to the remaining accordion magic. A song from the wino at lamplight again. Keep repeating yourself on the internet. Handsome young beasts & the kind starshine of ages Will guide you outward. Imagine a future without underpants. . but the noblest kind I suppose. My corner pub's suzerainity. a lonesome eagle. How come I sense desperation behind your prose? And don't look for it in the rum cellar. It's literary fraud. Can we continue. I love a sporting life.
Aunt Sally Jessy Doggerel
Look at you, Aunt Sally, you're walking around your house at midnight drinking white wine From a large cup! Don't look up, The bible has become your handicap, You were always my favorite aunt after Aunt Enid croaked, & your love for the divine, The ornaments of gold & silver & ivory, And the dildo you hid at your husband's mortuary, Are all become too involved in the future, let your bottom release its trenchant little whine. Seems the trees, rectangular, nonsense, like a galley-slave repetition of alcoholic mumbles, And of course also your disciples, Aunt Sally, I can see your arm ripples, Hang the synthesizer on the wall & wake to the sound of Appalachian banjos, Jesus has gotten in between us, Mary Magdalene, & the psychic chip in my penis, We are collected, red whiskey & pain-free, let the trees crumble like the architecture crumbles.
Now that your husband has come home from the war, Aunt Sally, & put aside life, Can we remember to forget the lost pages, I never doubted the police weren't 99% courageous, But there is a time for all things, botanical & arnophiliacal, and there is a time to be alive with your wife, The correct hour for our reasoning, And after that, the squid's inkiest cunning, You & me, we shall not taste of death, till we see the Son of Man coming into his kingdom, the holy sheriff.
Thousands will know about us, thousands of people will come from faraway, James will clear the slugs off his plate, And see his reflection in his dinner's fate, Drink up, Aunt Sally, I'm lost in your décolletage, I feel your decay, Thousands of people on the internet Have ordered a custom-made Aunt Sally Jessy beret, Finally, suddenly, a shot rang out, fermented whale tears, the last act of the day.
Five times five times five, here beneath heaven & we take our daily doughnut, Are you allowed to be so self-referential? Making headlines from your prittle-prattle, Look at you, Aunt Sally, you have become the huge spaceship that time forgot, You've swept these meanings under your pile of rot, You've let me hug you for too long, even after we were caught, But he's back, he's back, he's back, thank the saints, whether I like it or not.
My beloved is white & ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, & black as a raven. His hands are as gold rings set with beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires. His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. -Sean Penn
I. Sing, Pineapple, of your cousin with the spiky red flower, He spent a disproportionate amount of time washing his privates in the shower. Now it's finished, we are done with stage two, fighting like huge male impala, My magical pied piper tune is de Falla's Requiem, but I'm too lame to follow.
How do I describe my companion? He found water in the wilderness. Without him I am empty.Drinking only coffee has burned a hole inside my stomach: Inspired emotion repressed inside of me like an echoless quack. there'd be no priests left. for all the earth like Nikita Khrushchev. in transition like a dead dentist. If the archdiocese cracked down on the problem. obfuscated. So I bang my heart on the table. .
explain Neoplatonism to the corner fellows. . Drink with white-collar criminals. indifferent to the meanings of the seven languages he mastered. He is the pilot of the planet's energy. he is sand-blasted The checkered frontier. ratio of beauty to brawn. true balance making justice jealous.Oh.
The companion. even the way he touched me rhymed. .His mother put me on her knee. departing with the sinking sun. Your cochineal robes have left stains around your butthole. She saw our fates written on our chests. he spoke in poetry. mountaintop removal. Burning orphanages. spoon-fed me kilos of plankton. but the passage back was stymied. Our last adventure was not our grandest. ugly women wanting to cuddle.
his superego eclipsed the Minister of the Environment. I was too broke to work: The Thane of Parker Street was jealous of me. . tip twenty-five percent to the Lord's servant. Myopic & blindfolded in the presence of the angels' lambency. At first I was his retainer. The world does not know that it did not know it's stoutest sentry.Bear the iniquity. II. Change the cat-litter. the withered irksome jerk.
There was never wine or salt for our meat. In May I was promoted to cartographer. but the shrapnel lingers.How did he play those guitar riffs on those meaty fingers? The chthonic von Richthofen fades in our memories. altho I hated the frontier. I grew weary of buffalo & deer. .
Our underground drill battle framed the campaign. But you should have seen the other guy. I contracted typhoid. rewrapped like an aged tradition: My official ambition was to chart the fractal mountains. What's spoken of the flower shall be heard in the light of the intellect. choking on the cyborg eggplants she deployed. Retold as legends of boyfriends swinging from a tree in the rain. . But there are wild-card secrets: two years into our venture. Take the Fremont Line to Carson City and genuflect.There is a key around my pinkie. singin' "hexagon craw-fishin'".
. No genocide is complete without its hummable tunes. so long as I redefined the word. This wisdom of true mates is earthly & sensual & devilish. My health insurance covered the hysterectomy. armorbearer stenciling a sword. malice.Holy Cars! Long essays about winter. & her kill wish. And whirling. The summation of our endeavors is buried beneath Columbia's ruins. reckoning on relishing strife.
Assay the treasure-mound & poke the monster where he is most cocksure. . we implode these tranced flashes of clarity.My love is like a water-gathering leaf structure. How do I describe my companion in arm-removal & starlight parody? Chant louder above the rhetoric.
he preached.III. slipping me a holiday bonus. Have faith in our future. he said to me. A spectacular lake of rum awaits me when I turn eighty: We couldn't see our reflection in the Mirror of the Laity. Happy Holidays. . & began lighting the evening's votives.
They were useful in defeating our formidable enemy: Delila Falalia. dark clouds would begin to block me from his life. .By this time. Thereon. he had amassed a considerable congregation in aboriginal Australia. but he got most of his new-agey wisdom from his first wife. He still considered my memos.
a giant winged seraphic paratrooper. untraceable text messages. . No heavy dose of smelling salts could stir my companion's companion from her stupor. A clever mix of chemicals purchased at WalMart will decompose any fop. Opacity.I chopped the remains of the Parker Street Thane up in my bathtub.
I was speechless after my foxpetal gene mutated off its dyspraxial axial. .You lean upon the pillars of romance. The tiniest dose of arsenic in eighteen consecutive dinners. We understand the reasons for Delila's defeat. Those two homicides remained mysterious until my memoirs were stolen from my cell at the Dublin jail. they have never been clearer: The furor for her party last Friday & the missent invite to her resurrected Fuehrer. evil will infect our alive forevers.
let the angels fall hard.. murder. cherrybombs afire! If the green fairy can't save our friendship.. Enter. betrayal. Passion.Hear me. so I thought.. To Be Continued. some irrelevant horseshit.. his veiled second wife. It behooves us to investigate the known facts of the story up to this date. well will the sun's planets spin at any rate. For the next two years I would receive no more than a Christmas card from their secret meditation retreat at Svalbard.!?!!??? . nothing can! The man who might emancipate our music is a distant descendant of Robert Todd Lincoln.
Rhythm of the Bard’s Dilemma
Shall I recede into a dead white literary annihilation? The revolutionary sings Out to a crowd of equal-minded pawns About the hubric cruelty of kings, But the dumpster’s heard it all before & yawns. Who is the poet of this war? Where is the pacifist’s magnanimity? Who will glorify the worm-feeding warrior? Where is the imagination’s salvation? The spirit of joy! I am conceived in an instant! In nine months I’ll be too old To be drafted, & these magic eyes must squint At a sun-load of stories too yellow to behold. And the boys who prove the bitterness of victory, Like their bard, will disappear into infinity.
In Japanese comic books I find all my answers. Thru the gross perverted doodlings And the incoherencies of plot & character There is a poet’s lust for truthy things, The stars & spheres ecstatically concur. Those non-violent souls in stoned dreadlocks scream & articulate & scream!
Flags on bombs on graffiti on concrete, & naked machine-gun dancers. And in an ancient epic style I pray To Santa Claus & the I-Ching & the Nixon Dollar That we’ll all sit at the same table one day With the Saint & the Soldier & the Tax-collector & the Scholar. And the girls who weep for the girls in the frontlines, in new professions extreme, Like their bard, will resound across the hills of an ecchoing dream.
Where are the novelists who use sesquipedalians & discuss their own art in their books? The pundit leans over during the commercial And asks the show’s host if sooner or later Their roles will spin in a festive reversal, But neither will ever blip on my galactic radar. Where is the Theater of the Judges? Where on this spec is heaven’s edge? Am I our nation’s final poet of the divine? What use are prophets or ministers or crooks? And with four simple rhymes I write A love song for violence & lost ambition. It will be read loudly at the beginning of night Accompanied by sixteen musicians & quiet submission. And the elders who created this whole rapturous mess will pledge, Like their bard, not to jump like fools off a completely avoidable ledge.
Rhythm of the Tonight’s Dinner
My wife believes she is being transported to a holocaust of cookery. Her watercolors are important, Without them my illuminations are only two-dimensional, And even though our doctor says she can't, I know she can make this mutual contribution when she will. The Sous-Chef beneath our Poet Laureate's refrigerator has been eaten by dust bunnies. This is a great responsibility for the spaceships of the world, but they've never known hurry. The radio has been turned off. My nine Latvian Nannies have been sent home. There is a strange magic in my daughter's cough. I detect in my apéritif an undertone of mermaid foam. And the rising politician next door, whose scandal is flavored with yellow & red curries, Like tonight's dinner, will be squished neath the weight of ten thousand vicious inquiries. What happened to the questions of last February's poem? Who invited that wanker? The health inspector's knocks, Always punctual & always ill-timed, Have shaken the staff to the holes of their holy sox. In strictest verse & meter his report is rhymed. The administration of the household will look both ways before deciding the vegetarian option.
But my idiot brother has no respect For what the upper-class doesn't find funny. Like tonight's dinner. And the lovely young heiresses. Putting my feet up on my great-great-grandmother's ottoman. But right now I'm content to let the demitasse scream its curses. have been taken from the wild & irreverently deep-fried. noble & sad-eyed. My brother & the Princess are still arguing about whether the Solanum Nightshade was genetically modified. whose blouses' integrities fragilely depend on a safety pin. There are a few hostile mergers which I ought to plan. This 1897 Cognac can barely wash away the taste of those peasant dishes. . are already looking to East Asia for a righteous multicultural adoption. I have been struggling to change the subject Away from the issues plaguing Rwanda's economy. Has my wife forgotten the reason I've lost my robes to the hungry wind? And why we don't serve pitted fruit at the end of the season? But all my opinions she must naggingly rescind. I can reflect upon a couple well-phrased biblical verses.The Princess of Belarus has arrived without her secret friend to spank her. And the taxidermied venison heads. near the ceiling. Like tonight's dinner. While the Gringo slaves of minimum wage are buried beneath piles of dirty wishes.
Go, man, gather me some cherries, Dried & sunburnt & gospel & outrageous, Little husband wearing my rings, For you I'll carry big things, Your mother's love for you was contagious, Alone in the woods with the centaurs & faeries. The math doesn't add up at all, But by the time he learns to count it, He'll be thirty-three & crucified, Omnipresent, he'll have to learn to hide, The entirety of his parts, no great sum amounted, But it was too pricey in the fall to rent the hall. We'll get a nice place with a decent mortgage. Humongously intimate will be my love for you— Be part of an exclusive club, With no gross sodomites or VapoRub, Let us not dramatically reenact the Battle of Idaho, Trapped like a crocopotamus trapped in a cage.
Follow this June star to some cave on the outskirt, Far from the suburbs, follow the white light, There was no sound of tree leaves, The breathing still, the smallest please, The mariachi had packed up their instruments & taken the night, The father-of-the-bride standing holding his daughter's uneaten dessert.
Elizabeth stopped us on the road to Jasper, And blessed my wife, & blessed the fruit of her womb, This was news to me, I kept driving toward the empty sea, A cross will rise on the horizon of our sanatorium, The gas pedal thru the floor, past the earth, & never spinning faster.
Come, husband, gather me fennel & columbines, Rue it for many a different reason, The strongest bonds have ended in divorce, But our love will follow a sailor's course, I will grow for you root vegetables for every season, We'll hide in the Sierra Nevadas among the Jeffery Pines.
The legacies of ants will be effaced. Nor are these evils unredeemable. . And design a better Industrial Revolution. And leave the praying to the more devout. And you should listen to the yelps of every bitch's whelp. So go & set a watchman for the fallout. And no responsibility & none to bear it. When all from Earth are obliterated & erased.Prophecy for an antepenultimate doom My friend. Woe to them who go down to Brazil for help! You better free your mind instead. you should Learn the famines of the land where your ancestors stood. There shall be wars & rumors of corruption. Go study the natural cycles for a solution. But these are not the ultimate destruction. There shall be none to speak of it or hear it. take heed lest any one deceive all.
melt This frozen liver. Oh. You don't realize how much I need you. You don't realize how much I need you. a gala glamorous with real feeling. come down into the Vision Mine. the chef exploding Into an Oscar-nominated lightshow: indigo & uncleaned latrines. I want Pompadour coupes balanced higher than the ceiling. A night at the science center. A few dead canaries & a stubbed pinky toe. there's such anger at this party. You don't realize how much I need you. Down where we wait for our investments to return: magical cards waiting to be dealt. Like a dead newspaper. Won't you consider my poetic gems? Melt. sparkling swampy like the bijou. There's so much to celebrate. Crystals for the convention & centuries-old underground wine.I Need You I. lost the possibility to read you. . We want to throw a party fit for mutants. I miss having a lady-friend where you could read her fortune on her breasts' blue veins. This party's like a brown dwarf with its bronze-gilting corroding. Place an order for the tallest champagne fountain imaginable. among dinosaur fossils humongous & fragile.
Fifty dollars worth. Martin Luther King. . not fancy nor a very special dichotomy. You don't realize how much I need you.promises of ten time ten times today's revenue. Dr. Get the party started & send shirley temples to the kids' party. Hidden like creosote. I admit that I am not supermanly. You don't realize how much I need you. Jr Avenue And deep space. skilled in fruit prophecy & fructomancy. Far less profound than the adolescent brides at the compound. compared to the trials of the supermanly.Nazi gold. Who will leave you on the freeway like sloppy rotting goo. look into the Vision Mine & look at Orestes.deeper than innocence but still nothing fancy. now hidden like walrus testes. Nazi gold! I'm in my bathtub waiting to be born. This is nothing fancy . like feeding me feed you. Deeper than nonsense but less artsy-pantsy than karate. Meet me at the crossroads of the Rev. too. You don't realize how much I need you. This is not the forum Nor with casual contemptuous ease & true certainty. See the stars getting blurrier . Ponzi Bear scheming out of hibernation. More or less romance than the fruit-fly's dance.
. They're so bitchy about the punctuality of their cocktails. his fleshpot crown. And his Amuse-Bouche Princess. Having seen their reflections. imprisoned inside their netscape browsers. Find us in this redwood forest with its briers & thorns. their Republican ex-congressmen forestfowl. And unnoticed resurrections. outrageously red & above the weather. all-males. Above the clouds. Won't you consider my poetic gems? Let down Your satan-stained trousers. Consider their railroad gin: The king of catering. Consider these carousers.II. let my people go on & on & on. Vituperations aside. startling like cocky-doody-doo. And they dance & chant a copyrighted barbershop hymnody around a giant pagan owl: Waked by strange cries of the dogosaur towards dawn. we anticipate an above-average get-together. You don't realize how much I need you. You don't realize how much I need you. Handsome little escorts. Julius "I Like Ike" Caesar will sing for you his campaign credo. You loved me whenever I wore the newest decade's bad hairdo. You don't realize how much I need you. Jenny departing with the next cannon.
a racist stereotype with the same monologues. space for a holiday. rescued the planet & freed you. Rises again from the undermine. you don't know why this generation won't heed you. comes a volcan fatigue. You don't realize how much I need you. The same archvillain we thought we had destroyed. new laser-missiles deployed. The Vision Mine is clogged up & left to be forgotten: Some day its portals will be as incontinent as the imaginary galaxy our villain has fleed to. What the sunchokes meant. Having been embarrassed all over by scandal. You don't realize how much I need you. The circus has set free their elephants & returned from faraway. Now there's reasons to celebrate. What the tunnel went. You don't realize how much I need you. I want mimosas in coupes for every true citizen. . the same new crocogogues: Again the mutants pull together. Into the earth in search of quartz contentment. New raisins in your healthy cereal. they quickly retreat to their retreat. never know what the other roots fomenting meant.After their lost election. The same Artie Wongay.
Alternate Lyrics; Or, Alternate Lyrics to the National Epic
What is music without duration or velocity? Whatever it is, I'm not going to squander it, I'm going to go see my Lord. He has bamboozled the college into electing a corrupt mediocrity, And only one radio host refuses to ponder it, But I'm going to go see my Lord. I've been given oversight of the gates of the house, with ancient wine in a brown paper bag as my inner-sentinel.
This is good news, the toxic stream in the lowlands Has been rerouted thru the oligarch's estate, And I'm going to go see my Lord. I remember my mother on the playground humming showtunes, Oh, but she was really ruminating about that first televised debate, So I'm going to go see my Lord. Where has the bandstand fallen, where have the blue veins of our county been pecked open by the eagle!
I had previously attempted to be promoted in the Entertainment Industry, But Orson Welles was impressed by talents more gastronomic than mine, So I'm going to go see my Lord. These policies on the horizon of mercy - what does that mean again? - are key To unlocking our anxieties about locust plagues & famine & 21st Century moonshine, And I'm going to go see my Lord. Welles had drunk a pint of the stuff a day around the last turn of the millennium, & my song barely sharpens the pencil. Do you recall the year when I experimented pretty seriously with delphinic fetishes? I've long given that up, my liver just couldn't stomach the bickering, I'm going to go see my Lord. Love has paved our highways with seasonal salads & typical Thai dishes, More war-car-bar-jars have left the furthest stars flickering, So I'm going to go see my Lord. The border of Alaska creeped North to Jerusalem thru the Evil Empire, & compassed the corner of the sea southward.
A flurry of civic conflict ignites the nights! I shan't be discouraged! He knows he can find me singing at the corner pub, I'm going to go see my Lord. Fireworks & confetti bring grandmothers to the streets Every Sunday to celebrate the Revolution - there's the rub, I'm going to go see my Lord. The despot was campaigning in Vegas, & the paparazzi found him curled up twixt grimy poker sheets with a minihermaphroditic mouth-whore. Iowa is desolate, only corn can grow there; Fennel & Caesar's Amanita are running rampant up Henry Miller's coast, But I'm going to go see my Lord. My younger sister has always had a crush on the Rev. Marxie Joe Caulahausawatapare, Yes, ole Marxie doesn't know what he's missing, he will die a loveless piece of burnt toast, But I'm going to go see my Lord. What will you do in that solemn day, America, when we are rejoicing our slow food feast, & you are still starving for more? A green electrical storm at the end of fog, Hailing bastards, & birds flying a teleologic circle, So I'm going to go see my Lord. Out of this myth steps a leader named Kellogg, Even I have eaten a few silly diets in the days of turquoise & opal, Now I'm going to go see my Lord. The politics of waste management, amongst other side ventures of the municipality, are clogging the sewers! Please abandon non-vital projects!
I composed a lullaby for the godfather in my books, There was no audience at the opera house to listen to no Forró Orchester, So I'm going to go see my Lord. They say that the poet watches movies while the chef cooks, But All-In-One's bard lifted half his wit from "The Walrus & the Carpenter", And I'm going to go see my Lord An angry tenor bears a letter full of mischief & cross-dressing, it would make good theater if any playwrights remained who could rhyme dialects. That virgin sister of mine remembers when I tried to fall to my knees & prostrate, She kicked me when I was down, & I kissed her face &, thanking her, I'm going to go see my Lord. Most readers think it's the devil who's around every corner, but wait! The line forms on the right, & if she's the devil then who's spanking her? I'm going to go see my Lord. Down into the coal mine your second grade teacher descends with her martini in one hand & the Brady Bill in her other, where are the students she protects?
I have sired a son in Fifty-Seven of California's Counties, all except Stockton, They wouldn't let me in, they saw I had no talents, So I'm going to go see my Lord. This sacred soil remains breathless & the migrant workers have not been clocked in, Let us eat lettuces & pontificate, every cinema is ultimately in balance, And I'm going to go see my Lord. Wind the golden string onto its ball, Ye Episcopalians of the World, your synthetic harp has struck my favorite chord.
The volcanoes have been silenced, & Friedrich Weyerhäuser Has clear-cut the forests around my heart, So I'm going to go see my Lord. Beware the spherical library: its every word is poison lard! I've sent a press release to the U.N., with enlightenment & nirvana on a pie chart, Now I'm going to go see my Lord. No, honey, you can't keep the socks you find by the side of the onramp, middle management's team building workshop was just far too horrid.
Awake! Throw off the pillows of dementia! I hit my ten thousandth homerun, in Lightyear Shrew's park, I'm going to go see my Lord. Plato's bats resound the Batsongs of the Spheres, the Music of Minutia! Unbuckle your whipping belts! Extinguish your Florescent Blacklight Spark! I'm going to go see my Lord. And I will repose upon the couches of Jesus Christ our Lord Savior, a grail of dandelion wine in the right hand of God Almighty My Lord, And the peaceniks will reign, where gold once did.
I’m Going Home
And Jesus Christ & Malcolm X are smiling & beating their chests. Ride me & arise up. The yardman in the dooryard. And I don't care to stay here long.Farewell! my friends! my habitat can process no more guano. And I don't care to stay here long. Christians: Dorothy is affirming your hopes. Houris & Seraphim are burning rubber in Myanmar's forests. there is truth in what the middlemen don't know. less of an apocalypse than a Clintonian tornado. .
Be careful! the cats from El Camino Real to San Pablo Avenue are rabid & feral. the second star is lit with flares. Television doctors are prescribing cures. I am sober from my saliva to my bone marrow. And I don't care to stay here long. And I don't care to stay here long. the landlord is just waddling upstairs. I'm ready to go. Hide me till I'm hidden in heaven! I trust that the Saint's Justice will provide me with a decent barrister.I failed in my ventures. .
So Columbus was only guilty of genocide.Please purge me of bestial instincts. where he is become leaden popcorn at the greatest show. the sorority girls have exchanged bunkbeds with the lunatics. . Like when the Minister of the Exchequer was found with a herd of bachelor impala. the ones involving partisan politics. The suicide eucalyptus trees are the only thing the Koalas have adapted to swallow. And I don't care to stay here long. I deride no lower caste for their diseases. Urgency is required. And I don't care to stay here long.
I love Marion Davies. Screaming with torches outside every wall of my mansion. Cherubic legions are my bodyguards. but computer-generated monsters are forming a mob. I am going where I won't need my mind. my home is thru the rim of Uranus. I am going. Silly string. And I don't care to stay here long. my pet. I will defend her honor until the newspapers throb. has made this colony vulnerable to Southern Inuit Expansion.I tried & tried. And I don't care to stay here long. .
Do you hear the music that my mother heard in Nineteen-Forty-Five? The same recording with the same hornets with cornets is playing. too cruel to be some kind. . Touchdown!? It's easy to get worked up & stressed out about being too alive. Turn down that radio. I look forward to dancing with Sun Ra & men of every color & swaying & praying. a fence has been drawn around each song. And I don't care to stay here long. And I don't care to stay here long. stones & rocks of wrath.
And I don't care to stay here long. . & the seamen are seasick. I have no children to commit intellectual piracy. butterfly wings are too too transient. Coats of feathers rot too fast. What are the consequences? Between frozen peas & lunar monsoons.Enkidu's priestess-harlot can hold my hair back. Toe-tapping menaces are invading our privacy. I reckon. I will find a way to fly with iron & the ocean will make me blind. And I don't care to stay here long. if geodesic. if you count illegitimates.
the taxi is waiting outside. There are crumbs on the dessert plate.Berate me from four sides with contradicting advice about parenting. the waitress has been tipped thirty percent. Eventually the sense pillow will explode. but it is not a failure of corporate identity. the high-fructose white grape juice concentrate is fermenting. And I don't care to stay here long. . Loosen your belts. And I don't care to stay here long. my preacher will explain & pity. the bill has been settled. My second-born is transsexual.
Don't hesitate to sodomize on my behalf. And of egg-laying mammals & of echidna. I feel for all these various things with needy attachment. I've long since swapped my favorite wife.Are there answers in the unbarred spiral galaxy? I'm not concerned with just the meaning of life. When we were carpooling up to Marin County. And I don't care to stay here long. I hold no grudges about design or millenniums misspent. I am in agony & ecstasy to share your ride. And I don't care to stay here long. Scotsmen & espionage. it was good to decrease the traffic by one car. lovely ladies of the morning. .
funny guys dittying ditties at the public house. Mastering her domain.There is mold on my heinie. Where are the Vanderbilts & Gateses & Rockefellers & Carnegies & Buffets when you need them the most? They're playing hold-'em in the press box with their omnipotent creator. . And I don't care to stay here long. but I'll be riding camels with Fate. spores in my lungs. Lerner & Lowe composed my whole hymnody of redemption. I'll report & you decide. And I don't care to stay here long. and altho I'd never use the word "chaos" in a long poem. she took to the precipice with vigor befitting a presidential candidate.
beyond what remains of the identical plains. with or without Germans in rented Winnebagos? . the resolution on the snakiest limb. And Mizraim begat Ludim. and Anamim. Are there reasons to prophesize to America. And I don't care to stay here long.Pop the champagne cork at the three-quarter mark. And Lincoln may be shot dead. but my speech-writer is no Democrat. past poor frozen Saskatchewan. and Lehabim. and Naphtuhim. But I begot rhythm neither Jew nor Muslim can shake a stuffed puppy at! And I don't care to stay here long.
Noise. I am feeling the earth & imagining myself where the day goes. my younger brother is feeling her boobs & imagining them larger. . & tiny children lost at the circus. angels. & Charles Mason & Jeremiah Dixon. necessity or sex therapy.Angels. I'm out of the quicksand. Let's shout out to our people. earthquakes. the girl is drowning in dew. From Cape Codpiece towards the Pacific Theater. And I don't care to stay here long. And I don't care to stay here long. I hear you escaping from where I wish to escape to. No longer is it necessary.
It's important to have ambition, a cool mission to pursue, From grief & woe, from yesterday, from Eritrea, my soul shall fly, And I don't care to stay here long. I recommend to my proselytes to keep repeating what you say & do, And one day you also will be remembered, & be as famous as the day I die And I don't care to stay here long. Right up around the fake horizon, way up beneath the judgment, the universe at universal room temperature, every color smushed into a huge gray, like the death of play-dough, for I don't care to stay here long.
―My love she laughs like the flowers, valentines can't buy her.
―Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.‖
This is the end of the book Prophecy & Doggerel. There will be extensive endnotes, as promised on the cover, as soon as we have written them. Bye now!
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