The Death of Ideology

Sample
Blair Naso

Fairy Tales And Fantasies

Fairy tales and fantasies,
A trip to Disney World.
'57, free-driven,
A younger time for girls.
White fence, castle moats;
It's all I've ever dreamed.
What can I say? Thrown away!
Disney is for the breeze.
Dreaming hard, I wake again
On the castle steps.
Farquad comes with Cinderella,
Having lost their pep.
Today's the day for the Brave,
The Brave and Bayou.
Can't complain about a buyer's market;
Mr. Disney has to eat too.
Tell a dream,
Tell it to me.
Make me feel asleep.
Bring me to Disney World,
And my life will be complete.

Disney girls and fairy tales,

Wake me with a kiss.
Man is dead, the dream is done;
America stares without list.
Disney dreams and fantasies,
It's all that means to me.
I want to go to Disney
And live the American Dream.

Assignment, Spring 2010

A teacher asked
Banefully to
Come up with, to
Do a sentence never,
Ever having been said.
Fuck, I cant begin to
Guess, much less think
How I should do this.
I know everything, or
Just about, is done by
Kids already. I
Laugh, mocking at how
Most all is used.
Nothing can be new!
Oh! I have a
Perfect one! Not a
Quid pro quo, but

Really a great
Sentence. And it is
This: Jenna Thompson is
Ugly. Never, Im
Very sure, has this
Went through ones lips,
Exiting out of truth.
Why is plain to see, for
Xerxes had less glory.

I Killed A Man Today

I killed a man today.

He was a fat Jew.
Not that I have anything against Jews or anything;
I just happened to notice
That he was fat and looked like a Jew.

Im not sure why I did it. He was just standing there, and
I had a sudden urge to put a pen through his neck, so I did.
He didnt really do anything to deserve it. I just felt
Like killing someone. Weve all been there.

He probably has a wife.

The policeman will come to her door
And tell her the news, and she will cry on his shoulder.
She probably never finished college, so shell have to go back to work.
Shell get a job washing clothes at a hotel,
And all the drunks who work in the kitchen

Will laugh at her and make Jewish jokes,

Because that is what cooks do. I would know.

Her kids will be taken out of private school

And put into the government schools.
All day the other kids will yell,
Annie and Alex the orphans
Like to abuse endorphins.
They sit all day,
As their happiness fades,
And their misery is a-morphin.
Kids always use bad grammar when they tease each other.

Annie and Alex will soon go to middle school,

Where Alex will meet new friends
Who'll give him a joint,
And soon hell start dealing
To make extra money.
Annie will start wearing a lot of make-up
And date a lot of guys
And think that just because she doesnt kiss them,
Shes not a slut. But soon theyll push her farther
And farther, and eventually shell have an abortion
When shes a Sophomore. It happens
To the best of us.

Their mother, whose name is probably Janie,

Will take up smoking and drink a bottle of red wine every day.
She will be laid off from the hotel and
Will then find work at a retail shoe store.
She will live on government money until she dies of cancer.

Annie and Alex wont come to the funeral,

Because Alex will be in government-mandated
Rehab, and Annie wont care.

Thinking back on it all,

It was pretty rotten what I did.
I probably shouldnt have killed him.
But whats done is done.
Maybe if I send Janie some flowers
That will make it better.
But then again, she might be allergic,
So Id better not.

Symposium For One

Symposium for one tonight
Beer and a movie in an under-furnished apartment.
Symposium for one tonight
We'll invite a friend,
Depression and his wife Suicide.
Depression is a loud drunk
That offends everyone around him.
But Suicide, she is the quiet type.
She wears a red dress,
And her lips are painted in poison.
I sometimes think about having a tryst with her.
She looks at me shyly,
But I'm not sure I'd fornicate with her.
Perhaps just a kissjust bug spray

Instead of a knifein the next room.

That might not be too permanent.
Depression would be angry at me.
"Dude, that's not what I meant,"
He would say. "I'm sorry, man."
There would be tears in my eyes.
"I'm so fucking sorry. I just lost control."
These are my friends. Philerotic love can't be forced
To come around, and Friendship is too unstable.
Hope is just a motivational poster on the wall.
These are my friends, and they will
Never abandon me like my parents did.

Excerpt from Verse, Chorus, Verse

I miss the days when I loved God.
I would sit at my piano,
Singing hymns out of key.
Jesus and I, we were pretty tight.
Now, we don't want philosophy,
And we don't want history.
We don't want democracy.
We don't want theology.

I Think I'll Go Home And Cut My Wrists

I think I'll go home and cut my wrists.
All the blood will flow out

And drown the world in my hatred.

With my angst released,
Finally I will know peace.
I'll smile at all the living
Living in fear. They are afraid of
Each other and themselves.
We were not made with a spirit of fear,
But we chose one anyway.

I Want To Be Alone
I want to be alone.
Don't want to hang around.
I want to be alone,
To be some place I can't be found
Everyone says "Hello! How are you?",
And then they walk on by.
I want to be alone,
Away from the sycophantic smiles.

Lyrics Barroom Wife

It's been a hard day,
And I haven't had any luck.
It's been a rough year
Stuck in a rut.
And just like you,
I've got a feeling in my gut.
Come on, woman.
Let's fuck.

Don't try to hide.

And don't weave and duck.
Let me pay your tab.
A gentleman must.
You keep eyeing me
And laughing, but
Come on, woman.
Let's fuck.
[Bridge]
Don't need no condoms.
Don't need no pills.
There's a unisex bathroom
Where you can get filled.
Don't want to blow job;
That's no way to go through life.
Let me be your daddy,
And you can be my barroom wife.
I'll wipe down the sink
With the finest paper towels.
I'll make you feel like a princess
While I've got you plowed.
There's a truth to the saying,
"All girls like it rough."
Come on, woman,
Let's fuck.
[Outro, repeat to end and ad lib]
Da-da-da-da-da

Barroom wife

A Story For The Tavern

#

Once there was a merchant who was of a certain age when men begin to look to

marry. There were two women to whom he was prospecting. One was very beautiful,
but very evil. The other, her sister, was very ugly, but very compassionate, and both very
much loved him. The man could not choose to whom he should marry, so he decided
that they would draw straws. The lot fell on the ugly sister, and so the wedding
arrangements were made.
#

The beautiful sister could not stand this, and so she went to see the Fool, who

lay drunk in prison. He was not really a court jester, but he had always been thought of
as out of his sanity, and everyone enjoyed making jokes at him, so gradually he became
known thus. He was rarely sober, but since he had inherited a coal mine to the west, he
had no need to work. The Fool had always loved the Beauty, as did everyone, but she
could not feel the same about such an unstable man. Nevertheless, being very evil, she
did have some purposes for him every now and then. Today she asked, If you love me,
then kill my ugly sister. Ill do anything for your pleasure, my lovest. Uh, sure...just
make sure no one knows I told you to do it. And then she quickly left, seeking to be as
distanced from him as possible.
#

So after he was sober and freed, the Fool went into the marketplace to find the

Ugly. And when he did, he shot her in the back with his revolver. Everyone was shocked
at this random shooting. Women fainted and an infant began to cry. The Ugly did not
even see him, and the Fool had said nothing. The Beauty saw everything, and only
smiled approvingly. Someone arrest that man! cried a townsperson. The constable
seized the Fool and took him back to jail.
#

The Groom, of course, was obligated to avenge the Uglys death. And so he

called the Fool to a duel, as was the usual custom in those parts. This greatly worried
the Beauty, so she went again into prison to see the Fool. If you love me, then empty

your gun and fire blanks so that my Groom will not die. Ill do anything for your
pleasure, my dovliest. Right...just remember your promise.
#

Meanwhile, the Groom was having second thoughts. Who was he to take a life?

Was that not the responsibility of the government? He was just a civilian. No, it would
not be right for him to kill the Fool. But he could not back out from the fight, for, if he was
to abstain from the fight and marry the Beauty, he through his great-grandchildren would
be shamed throughout the whole country. No, he would not fill his gun and instead take
a hit, and thus people would cry instead of laugh at his funeral.
#

The next day, the two men lined up to duel. The whole town came to the village

square to watch. A street vendor was selling turkey legs, and another had wooden toys
to be bought by children. Suddenly, the Fool realized that he forgot his revolver at his
house. Wait! he cried. I will send my boy to fetch it. So his slave ran off to get him his
gun. But when the boy found it, he realized that there were no bullets inside. 'Silly
master, he thought. He forgot to load his gun. I will do it for him.
#

The gun having been brought back, they lined up again with their backs to each

other. They took ten steps as a snare drum rolled, and then they turned around to fire.
The Groom fell dead, and the Beauty ran to him, tears down her face. My love! she
cried. "For whom now shall I hope? My future is my past! And she took his switch-knife
and cut longways her wrist. The brass band continued to play, and the crowd took no
notice. A journalist went around asking important people questions, and the mayor said
something about the impact this will make on something else.
The Fool saw this and began to twitch neurotically. His purpose lay dead by
his own doing. He checked his gun; it was fully loaded. How!? he thought. Did I forget
to unload it? Surely I havent made such a grave mistake! With nothing left for which to
live, he put another bullet into his head, and he, too, fell dead.
And so the moral is this:
Dont waste your short life,
Already full of strife,
On a vain woman,
An emotional omen,
For emotions a blooded knife.

A Poem From Internet Dating

Anna, my dear,
You act very weird.
Whenever I ask you on a date,
You wait
Until it's too late
Before telling me
You can't have a drink
Or a metaphorical beer.
Very queer, I fear.
So here's my proposition
(A strange decision).
Find a good time
For us to dine.
You have an iPhone,
No doubt sewn to your hand.
Your mind is your own,
But it's like wading through sand
To contact you time again
For you to merely lend
A change of precision
Or a strange indecision.
So in clear English,
This is what I wish:
If or when you decide to go out,
Tell me what time about.

And until you decide to be no longer busy,

I assure you, you will not hear from me.
Most sincerely,
Blair from Tennessee

The Gods Have Not Been Pleased

They tried to slow us.
Jealous of our power,
They gave us a safe life,
One that made good sense
From their soft soap
Worldly perspective.
But this is not the God
They promised us.
How could they encourage our faith
With so little themselves?
Oh, but we were right.
Yes, being gods,
We were right.
They agree with everything we say,
But it is not they who are right.
We fornicated with knowledge,
So they rejected us.
And when we grew callous and lonely,
They resented us even more
Because they were jealous and angry
And knew we were right.

They threw us off

Of our Olympus,
Shaking their heads
When we grew a limp
That would never heal.
The protestant popes
Sit in their cathedrals,
Pagans with weak seminary degrees
That taught little a cleric ought to know.
They all got their M.Div in Charisma,
Discarding Biblical Studies for
"Higher-Minded" folk.
How I long for the days
When I had no limp,
When God was still good
And brought life to
Those who love him!
But we're all pissing away
Our lives, becoming as them,
And so the cycle turns;
We will be them,
And the gods will become
Mere men of the
City of the world
And we will all govern
Like fallen angels.
Daddy's Little Girl

Daddy's little girl is gonna be a slut tonight.

She'll put on the drag for the big game.
There'll be a dance afterward,
And then she and Hot Johnny Rocket will run.
Here is the park where she used to play
As the sweetest little girl in the first grade.
There is the Baptist church where Mama
Played the pipes and daddy smelled
Like mint and oak. She'd be dressed
Up in bows and beauty like a Southern queen.
Hot Rocket's burning, and he lays her down
On the picnic table at the park.
Across the street, the church looks dead.
Groaning, the wood is uncomfortable.
She can't stretch her back right,
But Johnny has to have his prom.
Mama gave it to Rick before she married Craig.
Daddy took it from Sarah in a tent,
Like the cherry on the top of a perfect rush.
Burning faster, Hot Rocket finishes and laughs
With atint of embarrassment.
"Wasn't that fun?" he pretends. And it was.
The Sunday School flower girl fell in love tonight.
Hot Rocket knows how to spread his fire.
She'll graduate and marry Bill,
Then shit out three kids and be the greatest
Youth football mom ever. Her sons
Will grow up to rape cheerleaders
And her daughters will let themselves be raped.

The Baptist church won't even notice.