'Chitlins who surf porn still believe in Santa Claus' and other musings mused naked on an imitation Polar Bear rug by a fake fireplace {a Christmas poem for H&H Scrooges}
‘Chitlins who surf porn still believe in Santa Claus’ and other musings mused naked on an imitation Polar Bear rug by a fake fireplace {a Christmas poem for H&H Scrooges}
by Quasimofo
Oh hark the herald motherfucker sings:
i found the shit out when i was 7 from a Bourbon egg-nogged
step-dad who yanked the step-ladder out from Jesus hence
putting the Christ back into Christmas sledge-hammering
12 inch stakes thru devined tendons and defrocked arteries.
…he became honorary Prez of ‘Toys for Totties’ in this
ornamental ‘boo-hoo’ ballet parading next to a green-bloodied
procession that lights up as he lights one up.
[yep, this is a sob S.O.B. story]
“There is no Santa! Now go open your damn presents!”
‘Life’s supposed to be fun!’…and other myths a r e c a u s e
there is no Govt’ bailout for reality and all poetry can say
is ‘nothing lasts’ and ‘beauty fades’ except a popcorn-string
of little pretty moments between the lines of cracks which
freeze aghast in silent fright.
(and even i could strangle myself with a shlong-stocking for
writing this poem just to write a poem).
Castrate me and hang my balls next to the Pamela Anderson
star-angel….then give me KFC!
Satan Claws orders sex on a cherry sour red sectional
delivered from Palooka to Paducah trapping me in my
own little bubble wrap.
Jingle Hells! ..there is a warmth in cellophane,
just don’t mix hot cocoa with Electropolis in this
season for your pleasin’ until all the ugly is covered up
by wreathes and whore-to-door Karaoke carolling.
*Most never find peace on earth till they’re 6ft under
their blunder…
But Asian Amateur teens want you to MILF-milk their
38 triple D’s for a hot exploding trial offer Visa Mastercard
$9.98 one installment per month!
*also included: {Redhead Gothic Lesbians S & M-ing in
abandoned nunneries!}
Become a member and you can donate to the
‘Give a laptop, Get a lapdance’ charity foundation!
(Oh Mr. Grinch, I wouldn’t touch you with a 39 and a half ft. dildo!)
It IS the time for giving…so it’s not having what you want, but wanting what you have
that’s important…that’s why i wrap up household items and give ’em out as presents to their owners.
Rudolph the blue-in-the-face red-in-the-ass reindeer got shot by rednecks on 4-wheelers
drinking Bud-light beer (they did not hunt responsibly!)
And…’Happy Holidays’ don’t mean it unless you hear it from a recorded message
that triggers when you open an official Hallmark Card.
You see, Jack Frost don’t have jack shit on me cause Bumbles bounce like
Ponzi ice sickles that jack off to TransSiberian Orchestra & ‘White X-mas’
means lots of sugar on the candy [co]caine…
Snort some New Year’s resolution with faith love hope which floats like crap
on mistletoe’s skummy fever-blister kisses that give you mono
(i don’t mean to be monotone).
This demographic is just a demo—it’s not all comprehensive.
Does anyone have a ‘Self for dummies’ i can borrow? No?
Suck my North Pole!?!
You may earn a gift certificate by turning in your death certificate,
so share gaiety-bashing with your loved ones and one night
Kris Kringles on a layaway plan with the purchase of valuable
Japanese merchandise. You may activate this confirmation code and become
a life-time member free for a discounted fee.
On the upside … Figis contracts out with confectionary aficionado
Vyborg Nana cranking out chocolates treats delicacies and cheesy nuts
for spare change…
which is good enough for her oerve.
[Woo Hoo! Nutcracker in U.S. Army of Occupation khaki uniform available while
supplies lasts].
{‘psst! ..don’t ever work in the packaging dept. at the fudge factory’}.
Imagination now comes in hi-def blu-ray and is fueled by lumps of coal.
So buck-up!
Something magical and mystical is what tells you what’s real!
And oh yeah, you sorry sons of bitches, and bitches, ..
Give to the poor!
…even those drunk no-carbs cardboard holding bums who will
smoke your pot for food or the Salvation Army
will batter down your centrally heated bungalow doors wielding bells
like battle axes!
(maybe these are side-effects from aggressive begging at ATMs).
i want a hard rock candy criss motor crossing X mas dammit!
..to ski-lift me above the bastards who fire as many people
they can before the Jan. 1st when they will lay off the other half…
God Rest Ye Gentle Assholes!
*This is my gift to you.
my gift for my favourite mad scientist:
i love this christmas poem more than li’l drummer boy itself (which is supposed to be my default favourite xmas song but i don’t really give a poopie). the popcorn strings in our ornament storage grosses me out, it’s prolly older than my mom. and i loooove redheaded goths. i was one! great poo-em qwazzie muthafucka.
Thanks Geisha kitty! Your comments make it worth it. I mean, sure, poetry is therapeutic for the self, but it’s really an awesome feeling to share an expression of life outlook…be it inspirations of beauty and/or pandering meanderings of a naturally troubled existence in this modern world rambled from a young soul trapped between the awakening realizations of aesthetic and moral man. Poetry as a vehicle to the super-feeling-thought highways zooms gracefully in and out of vibrant mix-masters. But there’s also poetry as the spoofy jag in the show room that’s taken for high speed spins down cobblestone boulevards at nighttime. When our ancestors came over from Tralfamadore, they knew they had fucked up somehow somewhere…Poetry is an attempt to launch orbit stellar jazzing the monolith odyssey and become Martian again..to rebuild over bombed-out downward spiral..to retrieve that vital verve and grain and singular coalescence of bandaged spirit. Let’s boogie…
B I O
Quasimofo is a Mack truck driver, poet-warrior, bullshitter, and slave to the
occasional homemade zine. Quasimofo’s poetry and obsequious comments on
other’s poetry appear frequently in Haggard and Halloo.
*Special thanks to editor/s for hard work on coolest site on web.
are you really a mack truck driver because i want to travel too…
how’d’j’ya know mine email?
10-4. Yep, i drive a CH600 13 speed Mack but i just do local…no hauls cross-country. I work some guys who’ve done that, and i have to say as a lot they’re a very cantankerous bunch..stubborn to a ‘t’ and used to being their own boss. This one old guy, about 60-something, is very laid back and kind…he starts talking on the CB one night telling us this story about when he got in a wreck and was at the hospital and his wife from south Texas shows up the same time as his wife from north Texas .. haha..that threw me for a loop.
Uh, yeah, ‘geisha kitty’ comes up cause whenever there’s a comment on your poem you get an email from H&H that says ‘hey, you got a comment from da-dada-dada. Don’t ask me how they do all that…but hey, i’m not a stalker. Yeah, ‘geisha kitty’ really grabs my eye…sounds like a cool Japanese anime…Post-nuclear dystopia 24th century A.D. Mutants roam freely thru the land, but Geisha Kitty (a bushido trained warrioress with an entourage of cyborg kittens) carries out the orders of the 82nd Dalai Llama to ‘cleanse the landscape’. If you can do the artwork, i’ll come up with more story. Right now i’m enjoying a cold Shiner Bohemian black lager and fixin to watch new X-files movie…later.
oh, okay, i wasn’t positive or not if you were a stalker or if there was a way you can view contact information that i didn’t know about…
geisha kitty comes from my days when i wanted to be japanese very very badly. wives are hard to keep up with. i have seven.
This is your best poem ever. So much to enjoy. I had to wipe the smile offa my face with Lysol disinfectants when finished with this puppy. High praises!
Glad you liked it…i try to enhance readability thru the continuously (yet somehow true to life, i think)
a b s u r d . The Co. i work for laid-off 10 drivers 3 days before X-mas so i was sorta in a contemptuous mood. Raw deal. But Yeah, i always get a French maid to wipe smiles off my face when disinfectant needed {or Redhead Gothic Lesbians}.
‘i think i’m turning Japanese i really think so’…seven wives for seven bros..or just one. ha. Actually, i used to be a stalker but luckilly got involved in a support group called ‘Stalkers NonAnonymous’ and am proud to say i haven’t stalked in 3 months! For the most part, that is… My part time job is working for a farmer who grows corn…i go thru the fields examining the stalks to make sure they are in good condition with no boll weevils etc. …hence, i’m still a ‘stalker’ in a sense. I somehow manage, though, knowing there’s a nice cold beer waiting for me in my fridge…which reminds me, i need to move those bodies.
Thanks for the gift Quasi and for the bio. We’re working on updating the bios and “Regulars” section. At this point we’re spending most of our time creating a sister site that will do for music/songs/etc what H and H does for poetry. Its going to be very exciting. A new song each day by a band/person you’ve never heard of.
More soon. Updates sooner.
tc
Editor…you’re welcome sir. Uh, yeah, i was just being comic egomaniac with the bio…didn’t mean to imply an update. Actually, that’s the bio from my ‘West Goes South’ submission that you put out notice of earlier in year. Sadly, the Issue #1 (www.westgoessouth.com) came out today and no H&H poets made it in, including me,dammit! …I tried to represent our good name, sir, but got beat out by mostly academics, poets with 5 previous books, or award winning laureates…hmmm. i’ll have to forge a patence of nobility next time.
The West Goes South mission statement stated: “feel free to send us anything from the experimental, to the witty, …innovative…eclectic mix of the modern and the traditional, the out there and the familiar. That being said, we strive to avoid typical images associated with rain, clouds, weather, nature, animals, love and death. Fresh is king!”
Well, they must have changed their minds cause i didn’t see anything that struck me as experimental, modern, or witty, or fresh…mostly cliche-ridden academic stuffy abstraction. Yeah, i know i’m just tearing them down to build myself up, and that i’m evil for doing that…but hell, Yeats is dead, let’s move on into the 21st! Is there any way we can declare war on them? Nuke ’em? Or a voo-doo hex? There was only one poem in the lot that stuck to the theme ‘longest day’…what the hell! Revoke their poetic license! I’m just being a spoiled sport. Man that was a pretty experimental and witty poem i wrote too, oh well, though i am biased and delusional…but probably right. I’m of the opinion that experimental and modern is ‘zine style’ and Nuyorican slam…not a cut-off version of short stories in block poem form. ..Serious disagreement in definitions here.
Anyway, if you could check their site out and maybe hack it with spam bots that would make me happy. or get an apology from them written on a pair of panties, that would calm me down. Thanks sir, your humble servant, Quasimofo. i feel better now for venting and getting that off my chest. One day, vengence shall be mine, and “Impregnating Blow-up dolls and longest daydreams 86,400 seconds before slumber [Allegro Vibrato in D Major]” will see the light of day! Even if it is written by the bastard son of Dr. Seuss and Anne Sexton!
Thank you for your comment on my last poem, Quasi. I have to say, though, I have never (to my knowledge) written a poem about a coke can in the desert. 🙂 The other ones I have on here are “Roche Lobe” and “Theotokos.” Thanks again for your feedback, I always appreciate it!!
Jenny 🙂