Perlemorskyer, Hellpainter Tangentleman, Man Merkin, Italian Cordial Liquore Coffee, Com Truise, Kitten Handler Encyclical; A Poem Written on Margot Tenenbaum’s Naked Backside
Perlemorskyer, Hellpainter Tangentleman, Man Merkin, Italian Cordial Liquore Coffee,
Com Truise, Kitten Handler Encyclical; A Poem Written on Margot Tenenbaum’s Naked Backside
by Quasimofo
OnE. Uhtceare–
smoking pot with the Potus,
scratching scrotums with the Scotus,
i hit long balls that carom off
Tex-Mex Shiva hissing “¡Ocupado!”
from the junkyard shitter.
‘Gruel me once, shame on you,
gruel me twice, is nasty poo..’
At social gatherings, i often find
a nice quiet corner and eat cheese–
i’m a ‘Provoloner’.
It’s true the middle class is shrinking–
i drove by the suburbs and saw families
living in ant farms.
*HYPOCHONDRIAC BASKETS FOR ALL AMERICANS!!!*
Trust me, i have survived the blood lust
of church league softball, and i know
how to rank sin (so it suits us).
Nostradamus was a time traveler
from the future who disguised himself
as a prophet.
The govt. knows this.
Now so do you.
TwO. An Attempt to write less abstract and more concrete
(so the reader may find the poem more ‘accessible’)–
concrete:
water
rock
sand
gravel
cement
The Romans used it to make buildings but lost the formula.
Stupid bastards.
ThReE. Apodyopsis–
She was the cocksucking poetess of Pittsburg,
a regular Leni Riefenstahl,
who took me in as bedwarmer, bought me a scooter,
and taught me to balter hogger mogger.
She laughed when i said i was the leader
of the Abstract Collage School of Poetry
and that we didn’t have a physical headquarters yet.
She’d run her fingers through my pubic toupé
and whisper life’s truths which seemed to emerge
like slow peaceful clouds with laser shows in them.
She loved my synth-laden imaginings of future self-topia.
One night while we were doing doggy,
i mistook krazy glue for KY.
In the meantime i confessed i sometimes believed in God
just to have someone to blame, and that, yeah,
it wasn’t exactly the path to inner peacefulness.
*This poem is made possible through a generous grant
from Quantanus Insertia Digital Rectal Thermometer™.
FoUr smartass hardass badass fodgodder–
Watch out for that poem in which by the fourth line
is blatantly plugged a unique vocabulary word.
He was an unapologetic novaturient who frequented
lingerie bullriding contests and who once
dressed up as Uncle Sam on the 4th of July to demand
Miss Confederacy remove her flag bikini so he could
bend her over a fireworks stand
and spank her precious white ass
till it was red, raw, bleeding, and singing the blues.
The South will NOT rise again.
FiVe british painters you should know
according to Margot’s filmstrip–
i.
The eloquence of white trash fat cat street gondoliers.
Psst! Slide the door just big enough for a pint of beer.
Tavern signs make a sort of romance from casual death.
The fish headed girl with redneck playboy can be found
today under key words “standing orgasm”
or “hairy teen masterbates”.
Pot bellied brewmasters chuckle at 18th century parkour.
[William Hogarth Beer Street 1751]
ii.
Don’t puke in the glowing punch bowl or they’ll say
it’s ‘perilous times’ and ‘the death of a nation’
when gays hook up.
[William Blake And left a round globe of blood, Trembling upon the Void 1794]
iii.
Babye, blow me, and record the sound.
Honey, suck my yams, then take a bite out of canned ham.
Our pastel colored specs stretch vacuum’s vicinity
and send the pay-off pitch
to comic book’s pretty legislators.
Btw, this lamp is found on roadside daily.
Elbow to the nose of tv mom–smack!!!
[Richard Hamilton Just what is it that makes
today’s homes so different, so appealing? 1956]
iv.
Hedged in by trees, we don’t drink or pee, just sit in adirondacks and be…
[David Hockney Le Pare des Sources Vichy 1970]
v.
The Devil slurps another antichrist from another good looking bitch’s
good cooking. my ancestors lived in a birdhouse
and flew the coop (to cooperate). Bake cakes for the Huns and you too can
gain the price of admission (with no commission).
A Matriarchal trinity floats across this woven tale like bi-plane
Jerry Lee canonized into LSD quilting bee geneologies.
Cubicle wine-tester man takes aim and stakes his claim.
Why has it become our end to avoid hurt at all costs?
(and still expect fame)?
These frontiers have no flipside…
[Grayson Perry The Walthamstow Tapestry 2009]
Poem is a fine visual panorama and evocative from a keen observer as Quasimofo.
Thanks bzniditch! I appreciate the commenting job you’ve done here lately at H&H. Keep up the good work, sir.
Reading Quasimofo is to question and answer how learning to read is not in fact a miracle. It’s simple; forget everything you think is true and assume there is a sense to what the symbols mean. It puts your mind in a state of suggestion. As the words and sounds are interpreted it is put through the same process as when it was written. The sense comes in when the reader sees no other way the sounds and words could be put together and have it be the same. That is the beginning. Paying attention to the connections that are obvious from this mindset relays the logic and therefore the content. This process when allowed to lead takes your brain through a museum of previously unimportant artifacts and shows you by arrangement just how related they are.
Quasimofo is a decent docent to the sense he sends. He transcends the dirty work spent assembling a disco-ball of nonsense by forging an assemblage of verse that discretely shines on a page. Versus where the world makes sense, I read his small wonders reflecting a world apart from my own as every bit as distinct. In the ascent I find I own my world a little more and treasure my own of it a little less.
Thanks sir, that’s the best thing anyone’s ever said. You are the true ‘tangentleman’! When pursuing style, inevitably doubt creeps in and the artist makes a leap of faith or just does it for themselves first and maybe just maybe something will resonate with the reader. It’s good to know that contact has been made. I appreciate ya very much!