This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
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
quintessentially. For every December there had to be screaming arguments about iconography & revolution & tinsel icicles. The men in the hummer understood That usually it was a pretty safe neighborhood. What the devils thought was God defenestrating a bastard baby was just a meteorite. And ambulance sirens. So why do the gay young men have to dress like that? A father of such potency should have.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. 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. you know. been a Mormon. Robert's rhymed dissertation was tit-for-tat. not a hippy. Mr Hallam was able to return to work six weeks after his New Age Aneurysm. She sat way over in the fifth corner & wrote hurriedly a novel about shiteater bunnies & testicles. In memoriam. Or was it the Cosa Noster? Michael was scheming vengeance gainst the professor who rusticated him for plagiarism.
And a question materialized from the tainted folds about the longevity of ancient mammals. You see. I never meant to be mean. But I ended that relationship in the Oligocene When six ton ground sloths swatted down magnolia trees like horseflies. But I cannot be expected to remember the details of an artistic perjury trial that pitiful. But overexposed the governor amid the hype. When the tumor squeezed the trigger. 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. she blew him like desert dust. George has waited his whole life to find the woman with the largest sagging breasts to demonize. 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. .Governor Schwarzenegger was sitting across the aisle at the afternoon baseball game. Joseph's immortal ill will be Never finishing his Third "Lost" Symphony. Where in hell was this sad figure? Ah. Henry had brought his antique Daguerreotype. I hear George hearing a megaphone announcing Mr Hallam missing in the circle of Willis. In the basement bathroom. preserved as a marble bust. He was reanimated like Erasmus Darwin's electric rocks on the steps of city hall. Mrs Hallam. The judge was a welder of finite proportions.
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. His antepenultimate act of indecency was attacking his mother with an Ego Paintball Gun loaded with Berkelium. they all sold off the family stock before it was going to plummet. 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. Overpopulation & underpopulation are twin issues to be discussed at next year's global summit. And the fallen leaves know more about higher powers than any higher power. Chastise me. heretics! for the watchers grasp the invisible agony of the Stellar's Jay roar. Daniel has become allergic To the mosquitoes bred in the oil slick. A brigade of saviors will balloon us Out of a lifetime of boredom in Khan Yunis. .There were no towels left in the closet in Autumn 2006 when Mrs Hallam finished taking her last shower.
my compass is wrapped up in my tent. O tall’s the fir. farther more theoretical.Lift Him Up Up thru this gorge. My way has become – not mud! idiots! – but wet utilizable clay. Clean up in my tiny corner my own self-fulfilling mess. What little I can do with a rusty bicycle. I forget again. And lay me down. I think I’ve achieved something. . literally build this fantasy. Three thousand foot ascent. My feet & hands guided by imagination Can construct. I’ve started singing limericks about the non-linearness of time. Was it only three thousand feet? I convince myself of success. Stay up here not as a mystic or guru. Each summer. only marmots can ask me for rent. I’ll just act according to modern liberal guilt. some reason to act all righteous. I’ll never tell people why it’s not completely wise to eat pig meat. Her lust is closer stronger. did I do it alone? I find love only be keeping my travel plans flexible. from the beach up to the tree line. I’ll shut this closet door & transcend irony. but it’s thought of some great puns. but deeper the freefalls of the stalactickle. still a protest. She as my guide has abandoned me to gravity. more like a social hermit. no fuss about the lack of pay – At this elevation. A virgin songwriter begins by imitation. not a poem about Everest. stone steps past waterfalls. now a burden. One poet is king but I am the silent prophet of the Saracen. the history of today. Can fashion roots of kingdoms more than magical. each road sign I chew like a lotus. My tinker’s brain can destruct this reality. I have forsaken the news. 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. this bicycle – I only used it for revolutionary calls – The fall’s like how non-divine angels recline – Is at my side. So is my climb defined by its proceeding rest. Then returns to his muse this autumn in a pumpkin. I’ll repeat myself until I am remembered. 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.
Historians will disagree about whether he was depressed at this time or pretty happy.Celebrity Canto Let’s take a walk thru history with an American icon. but who has found time to read his last one? Now he pauses on the Piazza. but there he goes. Sure! He collects rare shards of colored glass from Turkey & Italy. he’s already thinking about a poem he’ll write about this walk of dangling participles. Compared to the trials of Hercules he admits that he is no Hercules. it’s all been done before in particles. he runs like a century. Meanwhile. He has a brief adventure involving batrachian nepotism & a gutterful of shit. And he’s written a lot of books. . He ascends a mountain of fine light.
The Chancellor of Germany sent her condolences. but it’s out of style by the time he gets to the Louvre. . 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. but sent it at the wrong time on the wrong train. There is an eruption of sympathy & he finds time to masturbate to an old John Ford movie. He considers this when he considers every step he takes. he does a gay little dance & slips into a gooey pit. losing himself. claps. Then. & he sues them into bankruptcy: They were just being opportunistic.The mainstream media licks its lips thinking about every step of it. He knows he looks good in that suede suit. His wife actually was just raising a big stink about House-Elf Emancipation. A small press illegally publishes his letters to his mistress. Hark! thumps. But the mainstream media realized they could sell more papers by popular music democratization. But I know & you know that he was always focused on his public characterization. but no need to explain. Scholars think that his imminent divorce was preoccupying his psyche. deafening huzzas! The gospel trombone & his mother awakes.
I can finally database my shard collection. . Edgar Hoover’s stilettos for all the world to see. My ex-wife’s face was the crime of the century. House Arrest! There have been worse fates for Saloth Sar & the late Sheriff’s Deputy. He converts to Mormonism! He jumps up & down in J. The British National Dish may be curry. but mine has gone home in a flurry. but he loses her & finds ten more corseted supermodels. The penguins are finally safe from your scrutiny. every last one of you pundit assholes! My memoirs will be impenetrable. The Celebrity His Aria: I’ll condemn you all to the Ninth Circle. 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. Now his mistress is in every magazine. but her breasts have gotten flopsy. Your televisions are all pointed North.His wife leaves him like a free radio blitzkrieg. & the historians can rot in my impunity.
I will block funding for all beehives & your precious oxalis flowers.F. & blood on her token black cloak. In heaven. when the first female president Returns. she says she means no discord. She says the revolt of laboratory bunnies was never seeking its own reward. Hybrid helicopters have wounded my core & shield. Let's just ask her. There's hummus all over her face. 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.Song of Dung & Defenestration My fatigue for the next war is no accident. & S. . Are you ready for a Californian high-speed train? To marry L. Garfield.A.
m. Fleeing from the bent sword & grooviness. & cursed the fin de siècle. arrogate my brain-child & blow me. ages golden but beholden of puns. however. The politics of the super-rich are buried in carrion. Only edible Porcini? those pigs should be allowed to turn around & return as. Albion. One righteous dude too many. I wonder. My man Tom was an avuncular uncle despite his penectomy. she danced a maidmarian. does it grow new leafs as fast as it loses the old ones? Her voice-mail inbox is full. not so much eternally. And she was discovered at six a. but superficially. in plainclothes leaving the residence of a sumo wrestler. She objectified objective music. modern juggling. Leakage. unlike the rest of you squares. Señor. diaphany! . A guest in the guest-house. her anarchist friends are failing precipitously. . & no one cares.& not too soon. Her daughter published a book about pregnant teenaged mosquito lepers. Our Lady of Past Winter had the bibacity to drink the Watergate Papers. She is seventeen years old. Angels. but where's our heroine? I hear her thru the wall discussing the coup.When asked if she would attend the lost ballet. never Matisse's supine ruin. poetry. her hemorrhoids were tossed to the furnace. a Knight of the Mannerheim Cross. It was a bestseller at Stanford. My exclusive rights to programming cable soccer have been diluted due to the Russian flu. And after they were divorced.
get them besmudged hence! The cheesiest composers have found words to rhyme with Argentina. The cabaret has gotten boring since they banned heterosexual can-cans. to keep copying jokes from the Romans.has vanished. This Hate Triangle . & the road is spooky quiet. I remember only her pelvis. And like a Borscht-belt comedian. What were the motives for Hitler's vegetarian diet? But now that she is dead.I have licked the fleshy part of her thigh for the penultimate time! So she will never be content with her secretaries. See your omniscience will hit the non-believers in the forehead as a sudden awesome paroxysm. . & trashing the presidential suite at the Hotel Dis. Her loudest broadcasts were insufficient to dike up the flashflood of Evangelical Environmentalism. no puny feat.with Passenger Pigeons & the Bluebeard of the Silesian Railway . Your dominion to the end of the earth. she advises me to keep repeating myself until I get noticed. listen to them eructating the future's judgments. the doctors know it. I rejoice when the Western train is on time. But I loved her. Like a muse. With the cows I ruminate our infinite hours. no. An uncanny funeral with an uncanny drumbeat.
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.
The wasted red-face zombie down below the floorboards stirs. But my love is for the future of money. She is dead in my arms. Wake up. a sexy cowboy antichrist. but I am not. 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. out of the county paradigm. poets cannot. scribes. hearts. I must be to the asphyxiated miners as a shepherd is to his lost sheep. covered in gravy & cornmeal. All over North America. She will never change her last name. And send all of your Emmas & Emilys back up where they came from. bards. I cannot even weep. come back. Where is the plastic surgeon for these celebrities? My daughter hardly looks like herself anymore. A morning spent in Tijuana beneath an agave plant. tongues. And his brain explodes. but she has re-christened the night Ten thousand times. but one teetotaling prophet concurs. I remember the planet. figures. there is nothing we can do. I am real.You call me a mountebank. & Pluto's flickering gaslight. . I argued for weeks with her biographer about plumbing the thumb. somehow not heeded.
my ego faltered. In the end. he could not have smelled equipped. His rat-ass is less specific. Lousera was too busy for me. tone-deaf. after his journey. A cowboy deep in the Pacific. Luckily. Bicycling across the ocean floor. Los Sphincteres. the thief's violin sonata was deterred. with no paranoia & no worries.Saga of Jenny I. So. Hiding behind the drapes in God's mansion. Somewhere an identity was altered. past millions of species & ravaging war. here we go. We were necking in the corner accompanied by the mariachi band. It was during the year I was dating a woman named Lousera Comasquerapes. I had never felt this style of pain. waiting for her savior: Perhaps it was his dipsomania or the crypto-syringe which held him up. the enemy of the future escapes. Her bus-stop bench is worn down. . His name is called Terrific.
I remember Lousera Comasquerapes. a wild beast: In high 1995 outfits. Warm & curing a missing flu. a child is born. we would take to the clubs. green-faced & ecstatic. I haven't seen her in two years. like the bawdy eclectic. the wings of a swallow at least. anticipating the phone to click. . she was my grandest lover. And where is Jenny thru this to-do? She's smiling in San Francisco. And we were dancing upon the throne of days.
" . I had never been intimate with such ugliness. "Follow me until you're done with me. "Dry up the wine stain. heated." Aching. "Complain. And found happiness in this abyss. where was I? Our brains are infected by every local notion. ravishing beauty. but I think Lousera Comasquerapes said to me: "Come from the West. like squab. our native housing project. "Come down from the ceiling crack. Naked & cross-eyed. "We'll return to school early like a mathematics prodigy. my love. fuzzy on the top. what remains of the pain. come to my bed & be forever free. My perceptions were down. Thru the worm-hole to heaven. "I am your girl until Holmes Comet. eat me. Trampled by a herd of Giant Unicorns . "I will accept but not explain. & on the bottom. fuzzy. my largest towel is open out of respect.Revived Thin-Plated Rhinoceroses wasted & smushed but not defeated. we'll go around the omnipresent. Lousera said to me: "The bricks fell down. In 2002 she stank of piss. our hearts. where are you. drink me. "I see her jalapeños blindlies. "I cannot hear Jenny chortling kindlies. where are the prodigal lagomorphs. "I feel thirst in my dirtiest panties. stoned & hewn. like squirrel meat or pheasant.Astronauts.
without love. "We have ruined it. over-stocked. without pity. "Cannot sell next century's laguna-fish. shush. an Indian sailor playing a harmonium! Lousera Comasquerapes came to me & said: "Build up our crazy coastal city. clogged this traversable passage to that black hole. "We have caught our final tuna-fish.Still life with sore knees. without agony. "Study the asphalt & iron. confused noise & rum! "Cannot eat last year's banana-fish." . drive insanity.
a pilgrim to everywhere: I've lost sensation in my legs. . A festival. a monstrous ancient buffalo of pleasure & echinacea. & the older son learning. nude under my robe. mirroring my mindlessness. Not to be envious of the world's turning. I feel a story pass from a Pentecostal Minister visiting without his bow tie: About a proud brother returning. Lousera's humongous breasts are weighing down the basketball court. California. moles & voles & treasure enough to share. A black man & a visible man. a lonely old playboy.II. prancing over the sleep-sheep's fence. Now in the hospital. Risible & before time began. And Mary & Martha & Louise & Johanna. watching the nurses float by. the entrance to my lifespan. I need affirmation. but gained peace in East Asia. Like a subterranean conquistador. exasperating her patience. Lousera is out there somewhere.
She called me on the two-way radio. The fireworks will be shot. For the price of these battles. towards unknown husbands. letting slip the final amen again & again. But not by our progeny . His diagnosis is a reluctant shrug." Lousera Comasquerapes once told me. piloting a ship of shit. and six hundred varieties of fungus.The machinations on the board of supervisors went unnoticed by our spies. a rampage of youthful infernal disease. The police won't let him pull my plug. I replaced them & wasted them & now those old girls are distant from my decaying face. but not to distill certain right revolting energies. I'll be a robot on a planet of rot. & recalled the years of living & conniving: "Come stretch your pinions & hold me. Her vexation at this dimness. I am a sow in a gestation cage. expanding my imagination. "Yoga & pilates & a hot toddy. Whether I watch them or not. He swept my hours under his toilet rug. We failed to nourish & educate." . we could send every itinerant into deep space. she said her wet dream train was finally arriving. Kicking off my doctor's cacophony & vile prophecy & violent deities. And the nurses on water around me. covered to my canopy in excrement & moss. Some serious lamentations! And a few good jokes.but I had been transferred to oblivion by then. I poured a double shot into a glass of ice. "Every activity is our unique joy.
& do your best not to trash it. "And wallow in perfection." . 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. "Just love it. soon is the jubilee year. "Greek proportions & Washington's erection.Aching. Sandy. like an archetypal pig-in-a-poke. our baby will forgive our debt. "My entire living room is filled with pillows. "Our waste is another man's confection.
I was never warned. "You'll regret every song heard in the dark. it's done. Lousera Comasquerapes had said to me: "You'll die far from Golden Gate Park.Found in a forest of briers & thorns. "You'll keep discovering things you couldn't have believed. just be present. & also leaving. Jenny made her mind up when she was three. "And Christ in the form of a walking shark. & I must give up for adoption our infant son. a pirate departing with the next cannon. She's there for her kindness." .
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
Fair is the air where the cows have stopped farting. Where were we. if you please. There are no more songs in my head. We ruminate out infinite hours. . I bequeath you this old tape recorder. I only used it for twentieth century music. there's no bookend. we've sung the tedium. Older than the waves today is. Nancy. Crossing the seventh bridge on the Quayside. the way is the dais. the year of the pig? One last round should make the sky alright. I want it all. Amen. If you insist. One million dollars will be my just reward. I'll wear the fig leaf. bonny Nancy. keep walking. Knee-pads shield the sailor's sore knees. Derelict pavilions from my halcyon flapper remains. what we never had. Swim to Ireland until you learn the trick. Over the top. And we will re-order until we've passed the border. now I am departing. But first I will sit here & be sad.M. Mack the Knife slices a chunk off my spinal cord. There's always a pub within running distance when it rains. The limousine should come at Six A.Report from the Tyne Somewhere something suddenly happened. Nancy. but I will not eat the fig. the service is finished. I will spend the night.
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.
Forsooth. Forsooth. Itinerant & bloody. And other truisms. And the rain & the radiation will get better soon. It's a far cry from Coventry. If you can stand to filibuster until past nightfall. Finish drinking your bitterness while I wave the waitress. Then I'll only sing four more verses before the floorshow. Like only a dangerous professor of dentistry can complain. this wine is my gin & tonic. You were a cardinal figure before my phony heartless attack. While she was sleeping. . Zounds! & we know the reason for the cathedral. sober rooms at the smokeless Philharmonic. your white hair breaks like the ocean. Don't loath me for my centuries of cockroaching. it's been scrubbed down past its Catholic Colours to an angsty whiteness. Forsooth.Report from the Mersey Brahms & Liszt. Oh! Brittany. a blistering day. I slipped my hand into her stomach. but what is rock & roll music with the violins? And powdered drinks like Tang have been replaced by watercress. swinging door & I hear flip-flops approaching. the saloon totally empty. A creaky. Zounds! this planet is inhabited by a velvety silence. & explain. Please turn it up several notches higher. goodby city of expediency. there was no honeymoon. I could live forever only within your expectoration. the graduates will flow thru the doors now. Bold Street & Penny Lane were both named after slave traders. This bread is my bread.
to fell his inner canopy. His consciousness upon a hill. . whatever. or just hear them hummin'. A Worm of Might. or we won't know. alive. not going left. And is he buried in a box. peace pending the freemasons– His sword of virtue on the horizon. A stream of yellow liquid pouring from the drooping pewter cup. not going right. measure for measure! Or maybe they won't come. karma. rapture. but terrified of the imminent dawn: His love is like a rainbow after hours. he ceases standing nor not standing up. aware. a beacon & a dragon. Well. & new utopias approaching slowly– Our sunken cowboy. rife for the hanging. 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. terrible.Manichæn Song A glass of wine in hand. drunk on datura & puffer-poisons. six dreams created. nothing. asphyxiated. things might change. And thru the floor he falls into the earthy hellish night. The middle air. Will rise again.
I won five dollars. And when the fascists outlaw opium & herbal tea. & John Denver's legacy. And I'll canonize my Great-Great-Grandfather. & all that lot. And the lobbyists for the lumber trade burn a secret plastic tree. A line is drawn. we cross it again.– Then we will shout & sing. Debs. Or at least we'll write long poems crucially criticizing the core of their policy. always tied up in the stable with those rusty cars. then crumbles in again. He stands. .The Scribe of Pennsylvania! The giant lizard of the deists! Stentorian organ chords accompany this epic duel. And Feynman discovers an infinite clock & a train that runs on fission. And we'll drink whiskey & discuss Eugene V. the theater of the senses. then we become the heroes we forgot. Tiny boys sport around the vendors. His horse is bored. ever weakening our defenses. Then he eats some cheese & some grapes & studies the stars. And execute the leader of the Marxist Opposition. I had bet on eternal damnation for the atheists. old maids serve refried gruel.
Our horses. . camels. & darken in a fool's eclipse.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. returning Eastward on a perfect latitudinal line. Both he & we reborn as zombies in a mock-Apocalypse. And Washington we'll prematurely burn. cars bearing flesh & blood & bread & wine. Into the cinematic sunset.
Dog's nipples. I adored you. but soon there'll be no time to regret. We will exterminate the rats. I'm just staring across at the cross in her cleavage. I'd be just as happy healthy with them anyway. Nonsense will guide me about the city walls. A tricky u-turn for the canal boat: His rapping was nonpareil. Or the sun's son joyriding with the raiment as his bloody pavement. No. Nonsense nor the Cheshire Cat have shown their grins today. Ding. I sense the dawn of a dark blue-green age. any way.how quick you forget. Nonsense! Please pick up a pallet of biscuits. dog's nipples . no track-suits after the night. Bricks or Martin Luther's tricksiness I believe. Retch at the pink wine popular in this county. & the future is eclipsed by white paintings under blacklight: A mile-long housing project. .Report from the Dee We have been hacking away at the stump of the Tree of Mystery. And yet there's huge emotion in the sing-song. Christ our Darling will the motorcycle watchmen relieve. sister. regurgitate too late & we must call it quits. his gold diamonds twenty-four karat. Squeezing to rhyme around my angels sacred freefalls. It's cold & the black swans are getting everything wrong. A pint with you & the present president is history. Bicycle bells hectoring me like parliament. & their ancient bounty.
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. then reappear As Third Citizen. where the bottomless wells of rage? Where is the theater with no commercials? .Song of the Theater Why don't the soldiers speak in poetry.
And be the grin behind my grinning mask: No martyrdom a garb the tyrant wears as his disguise! No. 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. I rhyme with sacred words they have forgotten. And when the hippies take the street with banners The powers will point their cameras toward the dirtiest of the haters. The Jack Cade of the Revolution howls. My soliloquy only the audience will hear. Revenge shall be the spaces between my words. Assassination always is a tool your foe's friends can utilize. The powers will spin their cameras on the clouds & under the craters. But my revenge is written in the void. But my revenge will not be televised. The powers deploy their mirrors & holograms to tax his peace. I will sustain by eating locally. my revenge will undermine his smirk. But I will write a silent five act play. The powers will evoke historical dichotomies.
And too few ways to avoid midnight arrests. I can drink this obscure beer. I say. I only needed to get onto the internet for fifteen minutes. but this stool has been glued. Twelve in two hours. Out from the showers into a public house again. We'll name each of our daughters Kirsten. I will let you be who we all want you to be. The direction of the creek toward the sea was not the last surprise. Poor Tom knows when to invade the radio. you'll find your harp inside the piano. I've taken care of the family business. morning of durable pain. I will finish the hanging gardens with PVC. The stars will come out when the Chinese have been subdued. Before they banned slavery in Belgium. 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. Curse the filthy queue to get into the old library. O International City! you smell like a bulging penguin. And I might as well drink the rest of this first one after all. . I say there's way way too many tourists. Harpo. Well. The rain subsides. I couldn't even finish my first one. I will be a role-model to the wheel'd basketball.Report from the Liffey Thank heaven for heathens. Freedom fries & a choice to digest the embarrassing enterprise.
With lovers & fighters. I discussed the end of racism with the lost generations. Waiting for the walking shark. cheese. our editors & our patience. This talk-show knows no boundaries. Recherché.Song of the Shisha I have smoked my nargileh with holy men & singersongwriters. stolid & terse. I have smoked my nargileh with Dennis Kucinich & Alan Keyes. white tea. And seeds from the plantations. our eyes rolled upward. And we dabbled in America. . I demonstrated blowing a perfect smoke ring to a bookstore oligarch.
let the smoke reinvigorate his fossils. One last old man joins us on the rug. And with a right-wing blowhard covered in boils. Laws & lawyers & disco fleeing. Eternal inhalations. Micromanaging the painting of the white fence. The sensation between our nostrils & sacred truth. the midair thickly with suspense. This non-manufactured dialog broadcast to the nations. Library's circular descent. . I left my prostate upon the crystal pavement. Fertile in the darkest mud. Let's stay here. The chandelier grimacing & the fog of our exhalations. Munching on his own snaky coils. We must renew the bowl. I will invite this galaxy to the table. now pass me the proboscis. the waitress has been tipped thirty percent. Forty-five Spider Monkeys climbing on Jenny Ruth. Crucified on criss-crosses. We turned down the radio & let the conversation freeze in feeling.There was a gay Marfan who laid on the ceiling. Our goals & coals are finest lemon-tree wood.
mix my smelly armpits into this salvation's cauldron. And of course. And I'll join you on your first crash-landing: Hope Jacob's Ladder is made of stronger stuff than hope. Prima donna & the roots of man will not be replaced. . Would it be fiscally risky to mortgage the village? I threw a wish into the Irish Sea. His hipster hairdo without too much spillage. An old man approached me from the channel. His intentions are as translucent as flannel. I can assuage your pangs without passion or caring. It's a revelation.Report from the Dargle A palinode & walking off the whiskey. My legs are weary from a life of wayfaring. but you knew it all along. Don't be alarmed by the blues in my blood. Help me to find meaning in sitting & standing. And the carillon & my carillon only really used for the ding-dong. It's like water without the cruel aftertaste: The corps of coral can trace its ancestry Down the coast past the sexiest incestry. Remember when things could never have been this bad. It's like water without bees & stop signs & lost children. Scribble you courage on a sticky-pad. I never liked Bishop Berkeley's ugly old neighborhood. It's like water but without the chemicals in your soap.
Immortally entombed in a flatulent statue. And sand summoned by a ceaseless wave. And three metaphors and two blunt facts. Denounced by beards and drunks. Praised by historians and pundits and a ragtime's curse. An orgy of hurricanes and airplanes and earthquakes. The rhetoric of morality. A request for return from the orphaned widowers. Endlessly illuminated by essays. Praised by a senator and the terrorists and worse. A pestilent flowerpot or two. A stream of lies and the solemn reality Tied together in a cave. And three borrowed and four more lent. Calling out to the threshold of impartiality. the persistency to believe in his mistakes. . And one more taken when the silence attacks. A polygamous investment. A long fence thru a field of decay and cannibal rattlesnakes. Denounced by hippies and scholars and punks. A mess of gray books in a maze. A dwarf & a giant fettered in matrimony.Song of the Cannonball Sent by a rash love. a birthday pony.
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.
A perfect circle has been blown outside of the Father. You can breathe deeply.Jesus said. it was dashed into nonsense. You see plenteous airs & you are short of breath. The smoke & the air are different colors at first & invisible at last. so reflect & awaken. The smoke cuts into the air & disappears into the air. so consider. but being unsound. & your breathing will beget more breathing. Breathe slower. make your breathing perfect. You exhale divine perfumes but the middle airs dash them into nothingness. Does the smoke blow the air or does the air blow the smoke? Discuss & fade away. The smoke & the air are one. child of the smoke. . but your excretions are lopsided & unsound.
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. . I arise from the shisha with strength. The shisha has taken away my deepest breaths. When the wicked rules. & I am lain upon the ground. My arms stretch from the eastern sea to the western sea. now I cannot detect my rings of smoke in this hoary chaos. My roots soar with the eagle & my brain is in Mexico. O child of the smoke. Tonight it has deprived me of my life force. The air is completely changed to smog & the streets are the color of bitumen! Where once I did rejoice. I sit upon the ground & weep until the floor is wet. When the righteous are in authority. The bards of the plains are corroborating with my flesh. my rings are hungry. & the voices of the people are shallow. perceive the corpse borne slowly from the house. Once the shisha made me rise up & gave me the strength of ten thousand men.II.
my hands are not connected to my wrists. Each particle of my flesh disseminates. every fetter & gray wall of the prison is shaken & falters. I am cold. The stars are falling. The veins of my body are all the rivers of the earth. III. The months & days of years have undergone a great many pains. Redemption is eternal & the end is eternal. Wednesday returns. the seal is broken. When I inhale. unless the end of time is understood to mean every moment. It is like the mustard seed. There is a great quaking of the earth.Redemption does not occur at the end of time. Tuesday returns. Because of this. There is no logic to the shisha. & either the sky is brought nearer to my eyes or my eyes are brought nearer to the sky. & I from here consider the immortality of the universe. My feet are not connected to my ankles. . & the shisha has deprived me of my life force. every bar & chain. For the wicked is in authority. My soul is loosened. & alas! they flow no more. & the mustard seed is like the kingdom of God. I gather together my elect from the four winds.
There have been losses & mistakes. Some men find it inappropriate in the workplace.Song of the Shisha There have been missed opportunities. or thought it was necessary to be South-West Asian. I’d sell you saved coals. Some men always found it too fruity. if it wasn’t simony. Please don’t tell these ancient whores Nevada’s laws of patrimony. And tho some women are lousy earthquakes. Hear. I will remain down on this carpet seated cross-legged like a Japanese monk. . Some leave it behind after college graduation. This universe is not quite at my level. Come the eclipse. my water pipe has saved me from the plantation. the stars are all the brighter for it. tell it to the whores at night court. & hide behind the sun & moon. Sacramento has come & gone. My secret place uncovered at the ocean’s lowest phase. girls I should have approached at the train station. & lo. times I should have agreed to take the bottom bunk.
I will carry you to the quarry.A true man is still sucking at the nargileh’s proboscis. . we are in the city’s last remaining smoking oasis. Fall far down into the crater. reach up & grasp this chance while I’m offering it. I am lightheaded but I can still walk home. Tobacco has this power & so it is the third-hand fume. The air is thick with aromatic incense. My new wife is monologing about her quirky parents. & today I am listening. And curtain down on the creator’s theater. That man will be seated beside me. & here a start for the closet library. freshly polished from the second womb. This hookah is for the present: smoke it like you mean it. And blowing rings into the room. There will be a new leader. Gilt in chrome. lit dimly with my oily abdomen’s glistening.
Sooner far let evening disown its strangest star.. be this my shame. Ashamed of the Earth? Just as soon let the mermaid be ashamed of the midnight lagoon. & shall it ever be. Sooner far let them shun their bodies & the cheats' receipts. our hearth & our glorious days? Am I ashamed of the resources with which I create my continuing heaven? No. Like vines. when I blush. extending from every orifice. I am not ashamed. . Sooner far let the Ghosts of Anchorage raid the bazaar. I am not ashamed of it. Ashamed of the natural Earth & his conceits? No. That I have forgotten to honor the ground from where I came. Ashamed of it. Just as soon let cheese-making nuns be ashamed of the moon. I don't cover up its embarrassing bits with pavement.Report from Corinth The Earth. Ashamed of our ways. that scientists & houris praise? I hope its glories are allowed to self-perpetuate thru endless days. Just as soon let my barbiturate-induced glossolalia fail to be perceived as sacred.
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.
& let's recall this shithole's mayor & replace him with some unelected freak. And run out into the field. You're visiting long after your friend has left for Bulgaria. . And for the permanent camper. not your mother's cryin'. 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. The constellations control the lottery. There was a time. a savory dessert & a flasher. not your mother's dark cryin' . Resurrect these words & write them as I speak. The mayor was assassinated in unfolding clouds thru the window of his Brownstone. I hate the shorter members of the fire department. or. your freedom's downstream! Drown Broadway with your acidic urine! Learn how to complete your father's sentences. remember. when in season. When girls wore black bangs & tucked their pants in. you will be clean & weaned of factory steam. Jamie. One corporation owns all the coolest bars in town. Finally. Bury me in dead mayflies.emancipate the supporting beam. Jamie.Row.
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?
New York-ass Had employed as its resident dork-ass A hard-shoe tap dancer With a question for an answer. At sushi he always ordered pork-ass. Or at least till we Begin the Begein.Two Limericks A Tango that started in Bloemfontein. By Tuesday had reached South Carolein. A theater troupe in Naples. This exhaustive endeavor Will last till forever. .
Or Democratic Astronauts named Glenn. away! I have no time for your books today! I have no time for Evelyn Waugh And if I did. Do you expect me to read it again & again? I have no time for you.Doggerel Poem about Evelyn Waugh Away. I would spend it looking at Titian's Martyrdom of St. Or men named Gwen or Len or Jen. neither. I thought you were a woman named Evelyn. I would probably spend it drinking decaf soy lattes. I read one of your books when I was a kid. Evelyn Waugh. I would probably spend it upon a see-saw! Even if I had time for Evelyn Waugh-tays. Laurence: . I don't especially like Condoleeza Rice either. I have already read Brideshead Revisited. Evelyn Waugh-rence. I have no time for a man named Evelyn. And if I did.
What are your loves. Evelyn Waugh. I got an abscess gall behind my ear. But if I had a cent for every word you wrote. I don't know much about World War One. Away. what do you fear? Was Oxford really so homoerotic? When I went to Oxford. And I had to take a pretty strong antibiotic. away! I'll read your nineteen novels & extensive travel diaries another day! . I'd have a lot of pennies. Evelyn. And I don't care about posh socialites in the twenties. Evelyn.
Doggerel Poem about Spiders & Birds Some spiders build their webs up high. Some spiders can neither walk nor talk. There are submerged forests just past the beach. But the Imagination has a poor lock. Debs. And some build them low. Some spiders look like walruses Fighting dying polar bears from their polar webs. Debs. And I have heard the presidents singing each to each. Xanadus Interuptus. Eugene V. A fake door is off its hinges. The somnambulists have grown corpulent from their ambient binges. . And I can guess why. Eugene V. like this prophecy from the Webb Block.
But no birds are crawling incubuses. When my table is wobbly. Just like you-know-who. the night before the fight. But of course many do. Eugene V. But the Endangered Species List has become a phone book. Debs.Many birds don't use their wings for flight. Eugene V. Huge underwater birds catch dugongs in their webs. Debs. . That phony door has been completely obliterated by dynamite! The ancient summits of the Atlantean hills Are covered in campfires. it's the first place I look. Some birds are actually spiders or walruses. Some birds can neither look nor cook. Silent! I hear the presidents taking their sleeping pills.
Mike.U. Would he rebel against his name. she might get indicted. but now women drive S. If her name doesn't fit a CEO. And achieve neither infamy nor blame.s. will he eat burgers until he is immense? Or if I name him Donald. Twenty percent of American Men are named Jim. Bill. how will he behave? If I name my daughter Thistle.V. And some of the prettiest most useful flowers are on lemon trees or fig trees. Bob. I used to name my kids John or Mary. will he put up another white picket fence? Or if I name him Ronald. or Dave. she might get blighted. None were named Ulysses or Ormsby or Rufus or Godfrey or Mitch. but I'm getting more creative maybe.Doggerel Poem about Naming Babies My last name is Smith & I'm having my six billionth baby. And if I named her Rubber. after the former Secretary of Defense. But if I name my son Adolph. But all my ancestors were masons named Allan or Herman. . We used to name our girls after flowers. 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. John. will she hate me to the grave? If I name my son Bob.
But it gets pretty confusing up at paradise's door. Like Syrah or Chardonnay or Pinot or Nebbiolo or Klingelberger. A lot of Westerners name their kids after Jesus's friends. You think picking the perfect name wouldn't be this big of a dilemma. But it is a death of a mess. 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? . so I won't cross that line. Muslims tend to think their names are godsends. 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. But I'm not a yuppie. The Americans name their daughters Madison & Emma.If I was a yuppie. to go it alone-a. naming her after a wine would be fine. But I myself have never been a fan of war. Whatever happened to Elizabeth or Bess? But I want my daughter to be unique. Or if she is bubbly I could name her Gewürztraminer. The British name their daughters Penelope & Fiona.
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.
with his feminine cheeks. You need a 4-D map to get out of the jungle on that lengthy face. Rutherford ushered in an age of wild bearded Presidents. But his beard would grow thicker than a NASA space shuttle. but was caught in the lady's lavatory huffing a whippet. Men of action & courage. The New York Governor. history written bold across their pates. Won the popular vote.That jealous Twitty van Titt. And placed a huge curse on the face of Rutherford B. And you'll never grow up to be elected the President of the United States. He could shave it twenty times with the sharpest of razors. But Rudy Be Hayes was a gay little turnip. & honored forever as Presidents of the United States. Bearded & handsome. Hayes. And despite the buzzing voodoo of Twitty Van Titt. summoned all the spirits of the days. . And had saved for the fates a few gay little tricks. So when he ran against Sam Tilden in 1876. Garfield & Cleveland & Arthur & Harrison.
eat you as an obese madam. He spilled himself another tall glass of Terra Firma.Your highest note is my most guttural.-. Remember. Artie Wongay-.Remember Artie Wongay I.-. You may be an archvillain but you'll never be my motherall. Remember. Remember Artie Wongay! & don't forget him! He'll follow you in your dreams. Balancing on daffodils like a whale on a wire. Remember Artie Wongay? refusing to write another Latin opera. Remember Artie Wongay? the same galactic superstar from our rediscovered kingdom-The same false prophet of the ancients has been lurking home.The forest set cyclically on fire. Artie Wongay-. .
scary piss. you go thru me like a big borscht diuretic.-. a coma. Remember Artie Wongay! & don't let him be forgotten-. Remember Artie Wongay? like swingers. Remember Artie Wongay? the flames? & the rodeo disco stirrapes? Are you paying attention to this. loser.II.-. Spiriduş. Remember. . come ask her apes.-Till there's cucumber sandwiches in summer & highways are made out of cotton. spiriduş. Flight of the flammivomous scarecrows. Tangents that come out of everywhere like a coked-up priest coming out of his parish. Remember.Your lowest note is my most pathetic. we'll swing from here to there-ish.Now don't let's repossess. Artie Wongay-. Artie Wongay-.
Remember Artie Wongay! & please don't forget him. They'll spill for you another tall glass of the earth's crustice. We will do vorpal battle except for from Thanksgiving thru Chrismuth. Remember. The tobacco brush in & out of love. Remember Artie Wongay? the tobacco brush combust again. I'm the vanguard seer of capitalism. but I mustn't complain. .-. Lock him in gyves & smell the ocean if you've ever met him. Remember.You're a mixture of scum & bismuth. Artie Wongay-. I'm the actuary's meat-hole. Remember Artie Wongay? today I've virulent & vital.III. Artie Wongay-.Tell it to the whores of night justice.-.
Remember Artie Wongay? he torched the redwood.This planet is not your abattoir. the living could. He was my enemy & he will be again soon when the stars explode. rain in Uranus.Your lowest note is my noblest nebulous. In a century where you could still smoke on the bus. Artie Wongay-. scrape the ozone with her claw. Remember Artie Wongay? savages fornicating on the side of the road. Snow on Mercury. Remember Artie Wongay! Don't let him be forgot! Don't let him be a robot in this wilderness of rot! . There isn't room enough in any register for the two of us.-. Remember.IV. the dead could. Artie Wongay-. Remember.-.
A virgin except where we couldn't see. his foulest & least forgiving quirks. wine & dining her with a platitude. Remember. Remember Artie Wongay! keep repeating till you can't be forgotten: The most Pyrrhic ping-pong tourney we ever fought in.-. Artie Wongay-. . come inside of me & stay inside & thrive.V. spiriduş. A villain of Marfan stature & a troublingly easy riddle. Spiriduş.-. Artie Wongay-.The embers of prudence & fortitude.Slabs of granite diving up to the jive. Remember. Remember Artie Wongay? he wronged you too late & too little. Remember Artie Wongay? remember his gelatinous melodramatic smirks? I tell you what I recall.
bounty increases When charity is replaced by necessity & Charles has no need for pity. to live in these cold dark shells? How come I came to this ancient city? It still has stretch-marks on its breasts. & I will pay attention to you. Keep repeating yourself on the internet. Credentials from the Institute of Pumpkin Yellow. How come I sense desperation behind your prose? And don't look for it in the rum cellar. I love a sporting life. Imagine a future without underpants. with limited precepts. purple princess flower. but the noblest kind I suppose. Handsome young beasts & the kind starshine of ages Will guide you outward. I love a sporting life . Watch me. you living son of a seagull.want it & grab it. So long as you come alone. Can we continue. My corner pub's suzerainity. smoke only camels. A song from the wino at lamplight again. Listen to the remaining accordion magic. a lonesome eagle. & where better to have it? I need affirmation. It's literary fraud.Song of Supposition How come I no longer carry a pen? And where has the rum gone? The internet is for politics & perverts. Our connectivity. . How quick you forget our adoration & our hot tub games.
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.
Without him I am empty. there'd be no priests left. . If the archdiocese cracked down on the problem.Drinking only coffee has burned a hole inside my stomach: Inspired emotion repressed inside of me like an echoless quack. for all the earth like Nikita Khrushchev. How do I describe my companion? He found water in the wilderness. obfuscated. in transition like a dead dentist. So I bang my heart on the table.
.Oh. indifferent to the meanings of the seven languages he mastered. true balance making justice jealous. Drink with white-collar criminals. he is sand-blasted The checkered frontier. explain Neoplatonism to the corner fellows. ratio of beauty to brawn. He is the pilot of the planet's energy.
Our last adventure was not our grandest. but the passage back was stymied. Your cochineal robes have left stains around your butthole. spoon-fed me kilos of plankton. mountaintop removal. Burning orphanages. he spoke in poetry. She saw our fates written on our chests. departing with the sinking sun. The companion. even the way he touched me rhymed.His mother put me on her knee. . ugly women wanting to cuddle.
Change the cat-litter. The world does not know that it did not know it's stoutest sentry. his superego eclipsed the Minister of the Environment. . II. Myopic & blindfolded in the presence of the angels' lambency.Bear the iniquity. the withered irksome jerk. At first I was his retainer. I was too broke to work: The Thane of Parker Street was jealous of me. tip twenty-five percent to the Lord's servant.
I grew weary of buffalo & deer. but the shrapnel lingers.How did he play those guitar riffs on those meaty fingers? The chthonic von Richthofen fades in our memories. There was never wine or salt for our meat. . altho I hated the frontier. In May I was promoted to cartographer.
But there are wild-card secrets: two years into our venture. singin' "hexagon craw-fishin'". I contracted typhoid. What's spoken of the flower shall be heard in the light of the intellect. choking on the cyborg eggplants she deployed. But you should have seen the other guy. rewrapped like an aged tradition: My official ambition was to chart the fractal mountains.There is a key around my pinkie. Retold as legends of boyfriends swinging from a tree in the rain. Take the Fremont Line to Carson City and genuflect. Our underground drill battle framed the campaign. .
This wisdom of true mates is earthly & sensual & devilish. reckoning on relishing strife. My health insurance covered the hysterectomy.Holy Cars! Long essays about winter. so long as I redefined the word. & her kill wish. No genocide is complete without its hummable tunes. armorbearer stenciling a sword. . malice. The summation of our endeavors is buried beneath Columbia's ruins. And whirling.
Assay the treasure-mound & poke the monster where he is most cocksure. How do I describe my companion in arm-removal & starlight parody? Chant louder above the rhetoric.My love is like a water-gathering leaf structure. . we implode these tranced flashes of clarity.
& began lighting the evening's votives. slipping me a holiday bonus.III. A spectacular lake of rum awaits me when I turn eighty: We couldn't see our reflection in the Mirror of the Laity. he preached. he said to me. Happy Holidays. Have faith in our future. .
he had amassed a considerable congregation in aboriginal Australia. dark clouds would begin to block me from his life. but he got most of his new-agey wisdom from his first wife. He still considered my memos.By this time. Thereon. They were useful in defeating our formidable enemy: Delila Falalia. .
a giant winged seraphic paratrooper. untraceable text messages. No heavy dose of smelling salts could stir my companion's companion from her stupor.I chopped the remains of the Parker Street Thane up in my bathtub. Opacity. . A clever mix of chemicals purchased at WalMart will decompose any fop.
evil will infect our alive forevers. The tiniest dose of arsenic in eighteen consecutive dinners. We understand the reasons for Delila's defeat. I was speechless after my foxpetal gene mutated off its dyspraxial axial. . Those two homicides remained mysterious until my memoirs were stolen from my cell at the Dublin jail.You lean upon the pillars of romance. they have never been clearer: The furor for her party last Friday & the missent invite to her resurrected Fuehrer.
. To Be Continued. Passion. his veiled second wife. It behooves us to investigate the known facts of the story up to this date. some irrelevant horseshit. nothing can! The man who might emancipate our music is a distant descendant of Robert Todd Lincoln.. For the next two years I would receive no more than a Christmas card from their secret meditation retreat at Svalbard. well will the sun's planets spin at any rate.!?!!??? . cherrybombs afire! If the green fairy can't save our friendship. betrayal.Hear me.. let the angels fall hard. Enter. so I thought.. murder.
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.
whose blouses' integrities fragilely depend on a safety pin. And the lovely young heiresses. Like tonight's dinner. near the ceiling. I can reflect upon a couple well-phrased biblical verses. While the Gringo slaves of minimum wage are buried beneath piles of dirty wishes. are already looking to East Asia for a righteous multicultural adoption. Putting my feet up on my great-great-grandmother's ottoman. My brother & the Princess are still arguing about whether the Solanum Nightshade was genetically modified.The Princess of Belarus has arrived without her secret friend to spank her. 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. have been taken from the wild & irreverently deep-fried. But right now I'm content to let the demitasse scream its curses. This 1897 Cognac can barely wash away the taste of those peasant dishes. And the taxidermied venison heads. noble & sad-eyed. . There are a few hostile mergers which I ought to plan. Like tonight's dinner. But my idiot brother has no respect For what the upper-class doesn't find funny.
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.
Prophecy for an antepenultimate doom My friend. Nor are these evils unredeemable. When all from Earth are obliterated & erased. take heed lest any one deceive all. Go study the natural cycles for a solution. So go & set a watchman for the fallout. And leave the praying to the more devout. And design a better Industrial Revolution. But these are not the ultimate destruction. you should Learn the famines of the land where your ancestors stood. Woe to them who go down to Brazil for help! You better free your mind instead. And no responsibility & none to bear it. And you should listen to the yelps of every bitch's whelp. There shall be none to speak of it or hear it. There shall be wars & rumors of corruption. . The legacies of ants will be effaced.
Crystals for the convention & centuries-old underground wine. Oh. among dinosaur fossils humongous & fragile. You don't realize how much I need you. . the chef exploding Into an Oscar-nominated lightshow: indigo & uncleaned latrines. A few dead canaries & a stubbed pinky toe. There's so much to celebrate.I Need You I. Place an order for the tallest champagne fountain imaginable. We want to throw a party fit for mutants. there's such anger at this party. lost the possibility to read you. I want Pompadour coupes balanced higher than the ceiling. Like a dead newspaper. Won't you consider my poetic gems? Melt. a gala glamorous with real feeling. A night at the science center. Down where we wait for our investments to return: magical cards waiting to be dealt. I miss having a lady-friend where you could read her fortune on her breasts' blue veins. melt This frozen liver. sparkling swampy like the bijou. come down into the Vision Mine. You don't realize how much I need you. This party's like a brown dwarf with its bronze-gilting corroding. You don't realize how much I need you.
. You don't realize how much I need you. This is not the forum Nor with casual contemptuous ease & true certainty. too. Get the party started & send shirley temples to the kids' party. Nazi gold! I'm in my bathtub waiting to be born. See the stars getting blurrier . This is nothing fancy . not fancy nor a very special dichotomy. Meet me at the crossroads of the Rev. Jr Avenue And deep space. Who will leave you on the freeway like sloppy rotting goo. compared to the trials of the supermanly. Martin Luther King. You don't realize how much I need you.Nazi gold. Hidden like creosote. Deeper than nonsense but less artsy-pantsy than karate. now hidden like walrus testes. Dr. Far less profound than the adolescent brides at the compound. Fifty dollars worth. Ponzi Bear scheming out of hibernation. skilled in fruit prophecy & fructomancy. look into the Vision Mine & look at Orestes. I admit that I am not supermanly. You don't realize how much I need you.deeper than innocence but still nothing fancy. like feeding me feed you.promises of ten time ten times today's revenue. More or less romance than the fruit-fly's dance.
You don't realize how much I need you. . And unnoticed resurrections. their Republican ex-congressmen forestfowl. his fleshpot crown. Julius "I Like Ike" Caesar will sing for you his campaign credo. outrageously red & above the weather. You don't realize how much I need you. Won't you consider my poetic gems? Let down Your satan-stained trousers. startling like cocky-doody-doo.II. You loved me whenever I wore the newest decade's bad hairdo. Consider these carousers. And they dance & chant a copyrighted barbershop hymnody around a giant pagan owl: Waked by strange cries of the dogosaur towards dawn. Handsome little escorts. And his Amuse-Bouche Princess. Consider their railroad gin: The king of catering. They're so bitchy about the punctuality of their cocktails. Above the clouds. all-males. You don't realize how much I need you. imprisoned inside their netscape browsers. Vituperations aside. Having seen their reflections. Jenny departing with the next cannon. Find us in this redwood forest with its briers & thorns. we anticipate an above-average get-together. let my people go on & on & on.
What the tunnel went. the same new crocogogues: Again the mutants pull together. 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. they quickly retreat to their retreat. Into the earth in search of quartz contentment. I want mimosas in coupes for every true citizen. You don't realize how much I need you. New raisins in your healthy cereal. The same Artie Wongay. The same archvillain we thought we had destroyed.After their lost election. Having been embarrassed all over by scandal. . You don't realize how much I need you. a racist stereotype with the same monologues. never know what the other roots fomenting meant. rescued the planet & freed you. You don't realize how much I need you. space for a holiday. Now there's reasons to celebrate. Rises again from the undermine. new laser-missiles deployed. you don't know why this generation won't heed you. What the sunchokes meant. comes a volcan fatigue. The circus has set free their elephants & returned from faraway.
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
Farewell! my friends! my habitat can process no more guano. Houris & Seraphim are burning rubber in Myanmar's forests. And I don't care to stay here long. And Jesus Christ & Malcolm X are smiling & beating their chests. Christians: Dorothy is affirming your hopes. The yardman in the dooryard. Ride me & arise up. . And I don't care to stay here long. there is truth in what the middlemen don't know. less of an apocalypse than a Clintonian tornado.
Television doctors are prescribing cures. . 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. Be careful! the cats from El Camino Real to San Pablo Avenue are rabid & feral. And I don't care to stay here long. the second star is lit with flares. I am sober from my saliva to my bone marrow.I failed in my ventures.
The suicide eucalyptus trees are the only thing the Koalas have adapted to swallow.Please purge me of bestial instincts. So Columbus was only guilty of genocide. And I don't care to stay here long. Like when the Minister of the Exchequer was found with a herd of bachelor impala. where he is become leaden popcorn at the greatest show. I deride no lower caste for their diseases. the ones involving partisan politics. And I don't care to stay here long. Urgency is required. the sorority girls have exchanged bunkbeds with the lunatics. .
I tried & tried. . has made this colony vulnerable to Southern Inuit Expansion. Silly string. And I don't care to stay here long. I will defend her honor until the newspapers throb. I am going. Screaming with torches outside every wall of my mansion. I love Marion Davies. but computer-generated monsters are forming a mob. my pet. And I don't care to stay here long. my home is thru the rim of Uranus. Cherubic legions are my bodyguards. I am going where I won't need my mind.
. stones & rocks of wrath. a fence has been drawn around each song. I look forward to dancing with Sun Ra & men of every color & swaying & praying. Touchdown!? It's easy to get worked up & stressed out about being too alive.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. Turn down that radio. And I don't care to stay here long. And I don't care to stay here long.
I will find a way to fly with iron & the ocean will make me blind. Coats of feathers rot too fast.Enkidu's priestess-harlot can hold my hair back. Toe-tapping menaces are invading our privacy. What are the consequences? Between frozen peas & lunar monsoons. I have no children to commit intellectual piracy. if you count illegitimates. & the seamen are seasick. butterfly wings are too too transient. . And I don't care to stay here long. if geodesic. And I don't care to stay here long. I reckon.
There are crumbs on the dessert plate. the taxi is waiting outside. the waitress has been tipped thirty percent. the bill has been settled. And I don't care to stay here long. the high-fructose white grape juice concentrate is fermenting. Loosen your belts. Eventually the sense pillow will explode. My second-born is transsexual.Berate me from four sides with contradicting advice about parenting. but it is not a failure of corporate identity. . And I don't care to stay here long. my preacher will explain & pity.
I feel for all these various things with needy attachment. Scotsmen & espionage.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 am in agony & ecstasy to share your ride. I hold no grudges about design or millenniums misspent. Don't hesitate to sodomize on my behalf. And of egg-laying mammals & of echidna. I've long since swapped my favorite wife. lovely ladies of the morning. it was good to decrease the traffic by one car. And I don't care to stay here long.
she took to the precipice with vigor befitting a presidential candidate. spores in my lungs. Lerner & Lowe composed my whole hymnody of redemption. . but I'll be riding camels with Fate. I'll report & you decide. funny guys dittying ditties at the public house. And I don't care to stay here long. Mastering her domain. And I don't care to stay here long. and altho I'd never use the word "chaos" in a long poem.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.
beyond what remains of the identical plains. But I begot rhythm neither Jew nor Muslim can shake a stuffed puppy at! And I don't care to stay here long. the resolution on the snakiest limb. Are there reasons to prophesize to America. with or without Germans in rented Winnebagos? . And I don't care to stay here long. and Lehabim. and Anamim. past poor frozen Saskatchewan. but my speech-writer is no Democrat. and Naphtuhim. And Lincoln may be shot dead.Pop the champagne cork at the three-quarter mark. And Mizraim begat Ludim.
I'm out of the quicksand. No longer is it necessary. I am feeling the earth & imagining myself where the day goes. the girl is drowning in dew. angels. From Cape Codpiece towards the Pacific Theater. . earthquakes. necessity or sex therapy. I hear you escaping from where I wish to escape to. Noise. my younger brother is feeling her boobs & imagining them larger. Let's shout out to our people. & Charles Mason & Jeremiah Dixon.Angels. And I don't care to stay here long. & tiny children lost at the circus. And I don't care to stay here long.
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!
This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
We've moved you to where you read on your other device.
Get the full title to continue reading from where you left off, or restart the preview.