Monkey Business

Is it possible that
Everything that needs to be written
Has already been wrtiiten
And that
The great scrum of words
That boil out of my fetid and fevered imagination
Are merely swill upon the page
Vomited up
In the service of the ultimate dictator
And destroyer of consciousness
In us all-
Ego?

Ten (or is it one hundred?) monkeys
Sitting and probably shitting
At their respective keyboards
Given enough thyme
So the scientists say-
Could produce the entire canon
Of world literature on everything
That has already been written
Not by these scientists at their keybaords
But by actual true and reliable
Human beings.

This denigration of art
Lays a fart
And is fit only for a tart
Who in life never had a start!

We are a world apart!

This mechanized mind
Of the mechanical kind
Can never find in me
A reason to be!

So the poet's demise
They will never realize
Our art is life-
Their ego strife!

To the Goddess

The ambiance of the atmosphere
Was heavy with the smoke
Of sulphur;

In the domain
Of Lou Cipher
The owner of
Pornopolis.

His kingdom cum
Is a pornocopia
Of tits and asses
For the illiterate masses.

In a time of ruthless plunder
It’s the place down under
In which we’re cast asunder
Without the sound of thunder.

For me
My Annabelle Lee
Never fails to come
For every knight!

Oh what a sight
It gives me a fright
There by the sounding sea
With her on my knee,

As I make my plea
To the Holy See
There by the sounding sea
My Annabelle and me!

To quote the raven-
“Nevermore”
Is she the whore
That I adore

There by the sounding sea
Where I only came
To take a pee!

Babylon the Great
Kingdom of endless hate
For me without a mate
In such a sorry assed state.

But the hour is late
To accept my fate
There by the sounding sea
On Annabelle I pee!

We came forth
From the sand and the sea
Like the worms we have become.
We climbed to the top of the Tree of Life-
We saw ourselves as the titans
But now as the final hour maybe approaches
We prove to ourselves that we are mere cockroaches!

As the coaches of death and decay
Now plague our planet Earth
In us there is no longer
Any time for mirth.

What can I say
Of that final day
Which according to the Way
Indicates God’s eternal sway!

Made by man in his own image
An aeon dedicated
To His pointless scrimmage!

An ethic that is epic
Defines the poet’s art
For us great Homer
Was a mere humble start.

The day of the Way
Is now under our sway,
Math and science now rule this day!
Of oily decay
And final ruin;
In fact our own doin’
As we gave ourselves
A final screwin’!

Pornopolis the king
Pornocopia his ware,
In light of this we sware
Never to be a square
But always to dare
And never to wear
Better to be bare without a hair!

Forget the stare
We haven’t a care!
Pornopolis our king
Let the freedom bells ring!

Ding-a-dong-ding!
Ding-a-dong-ding!
To the moaning and the groaning
Of the belles we now sing!

Ding-a-dong-ding
Pornopolis is our king!

Ding-a-dong-ding-
Let us all swing!
Oh happy the day that we put
Under our heel
The day of the Way
And God’s great dismal sway!

To the Goddess we sing-
Ding-a-dong-ding!
To the Goddess we sing-
Let freedom ring!

Of our oily end
Let us just pretend
That our pornocopia
Will mend
All our broken ways
And this endtime daze!

As for the Beijing haze
And the Washington craze,
Still to the Goddess we sing-
Ding-a-dong ding
Still to the Goddes we sing-
Our new born king!


Youtube Reading




.

april fools

make useful tools
who'll work like mules
and best of all
they drink o'doule's

they love to joke
after taking a toke
cause their big fat heads
are in need of a soak

in the wasteland of elliot
a world claimed by the helliot
jokers are wild
and on other people piled

i write of this
on them i piss
in this way i diss
without having to kiss
(ass or sass)
do you hear them hiss
and call me a siss
my point they miss

there's no going back
on the road not taken
like frost i'm achin'
for the road i've forsaken

for me there's no laughter
in the sweet ever after

a poet
and i know it
but my looks don't
show it

happy the man that
never had to choose
and so thus lose
his chance to make news

i've laid out some clues
on the cause of my blues
colored in hues
black, white, and grey

so all i can say
is oh happy day
of light not a ray
my life somewhat afray

to the fool i drink
and give a wink
learn how to think-
don't make a big stink

the raucous laughter
of a single moment
is worth more than all
of heaven here after

Brooklyn Boy

Lenny Schmenny
The gamblin' tycoon
Hates the men but-
Makes the ladies swoon.
If I never see Lenny again-
That will be too soon!
 To me he's just another goon.

He thinks he's a poet
But his feet sure don't show it.
For wisdom and grace
He takes last place!

A fink in disguise
He's full of lies,
Rattin' to the cops 
When his poetry flops.

He plays the beatnik
While I'm the neatnik,
For a gamblin' man 
He's without a plan!
A Charlie Bukowski
Or just mean and mouseki?

Reason Enough?

If Emmanuel Kant
Then why should I
Venture a try
In the sweet bye & bye?

I'd rather stay high
Oh my! Oh my?
Then have to lie.

In the bright sun of reason
That could be the season 
For serious treason!

If epistemologies be right
In the darkness of night
That is when Truth
May be also be insight.

For sooth! For sooth!
Amid the fright
Of a moonlight delight
A light in the darkness
A sword in the stone!

Unhappy, alone
For that I atone
In a season of ages
Without any sages
The irrational rages-
Words, sentences, pages!

Class Warrior 

Do you know me?
Do you think you know me?
I see your gaze forevermore
In the vast supermarket of ideas.

I am the irresistible force
I am the immovable object
A lion in winter
I will always be.

I am the tiger, tiger
Burning bright
In Blake's forest of the night.
Do you think you know
In what furnace burnt my brain?

I am the libido of the revolution
That will not rest content
Until Judgement Day.
Do you know? Did I say?
That there is indeed a way
To make this nation and the world
Swoon and sway!

An Apocalypse of terror in the night
For those who have never known of right.
To me you are a sorry sight
Whose soul is lost in fetid fright!

"Cast a cold eye
On life, on death"
As Yeats would have wanted it
"Horsemen pass by."

"Ireland Forever"
Was my brother's cry!
"Liberte, Equalite, Fraternate"
Was my sister's!

I am the godson of Lenin
The apostle of Mao!
Do you still think you know me?

In the language of class war
I speak of peace
As being something someone finds
On the battlefields
Amongst the dead.

And yet forevermore at most
Will you see me in this vast unknown host.

Do you know me?
Do you think you know who I am?

Amore'

Pizza pie

In my eye

As I lie

On your thigh

That's amore'

When it's enough 

To want to cry

In the sweet 

By and by

That's amore'

Of the wherefore

And the why

I can only sigh

But when the pi 

Hits my eye 

That's amore'

Make it fresh

In a breath

Pepperoni 

Is my only 

Amore'