Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

here’s to my sweet Santa

Sunday, December 25th, 2011

The worst aspect of our society’s observance of Christmas is the way adults deceive children into believing there’s a magical bearded man who will grant their wishes if they’re good.

But enough about Jesus.

Santa Claus, on the other hand, is a truly heroic figure, running, as he does, a pagan mole operation inside the Christian mythos.

It’s widely presumed that the septentrional god of creation, poetry, wisdom, magic, and song, known to the Germanic peoples as Odin, Wotan, or Woden, and to the Finns and their relatives as Väinämöinen, made himself scarce after the introduction of Christianity, leaving the masses to their blissful idiocy. (In the Kalevala, Väinämöinen suggests that the baby Jesus be dumped in a swamp and hit over the head with a stick. If only.)

But it’s become apparent that the great shamanic culture-hero and master of disguise is alive and well in Korvatunturi, surrounded by those other survivors from ancient times, the elves, subverting the Christian ethos from within by adulterating it with the pagan virtues of pleasure, frivolity, and self-indulgence.

Like Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, Santa Claus says, “Love ever your neighbor as yourselves — but first be such as love themselves.”

But surely Santa is just a symbol of the gross commercialization of the ancient festival? Contrariwise: it’s all too easy to underestimate Jólnir‘s boundless cunning. He’s really playing eleven-dimensional chess here, having recognized the revolutionary role of bourgeois materialism in eradicating feudalistic superstition and paving the way for proletarian class consciousness. Why do you think he wears red?

So anyway, I forget exactly where I was going with this, but I wanted to post the lyrics of a Yuletide song I wrote regarding, I don’t know, inverted totalitarianism or something. (JUST WHAT YOU WANTED THIS HOLIDAY SEASON: MORE INSUFFERABLE, JEJUNE POLITICAL RANTING FROM POETARIAT.) I recorded five or six shitty versions of it a year ago and was going to have another go at it, but I decided my time was better spent programming some shit instead. You don’t care. (more…)

four unrelated poems

Tuesday, December 21st, 2010

pleonastic neoplasm

sliced spasm, a tumor fluoresces
silver gleaming white in hypernova gamma ray bursts and vulvar ectoplasm
platinum coruscates; an epileptic caesura scintillating, throbbing, flashing hemicrania aura
planarians, electrodes, the bicameral mind
I forgot what I was going to write here
horse clitoris!

buck naked,
a cunt-baked bundt cake
sat in the slot of a slatternly sort
scabrous frabjous flab—scavenging ravenous love—
a bun in the oven? none of the above

a hovering hodmandod, governing Novgorod
we thanked for the thimble he wanked on at Wimbledon
brevity is the soul of wit
but levity
is a bowl
of shit.

morricone macaroni

loving ape ass in Sargasso
and cerveza:
I’m May.
loving ape ass in surpassing
poor two Jews:
Hello, May!
ill foe due to poor fair anchor,
apian pearl! poor lay? differ!
may porn tondo vote schwa shepherd
jubilee lay lace on the air!

byzantine celadon, the dimmest glimpse of thrips
an alabaster blob, clabbered and black, gurgles hymns to slimness
enthralled and slavering for a smirking green crablike flautist, he picks a farty bass
by the Barcelona semicolonnade
the sunlight through cedars illuminates golden grass
on the horizon Hueys strafing and napalm fires burning
sclerotic fuzz grifting

reply to Nash

Monday, October 19th, 2009

Is dandy
But literacy
Is clitoris-y.

I want a garden where the flowers have no flowers

Monday, May 18th, 2009

Here’s an article about what passes for poetry at the White House. I personally prefer Barack’s own poetry (only the cave-ape one — the other one is tl;dr unless you read it as thinly veiled geronterotica, in which case TTJO).

Speaking of the dawn of man, some scientists think that Neanderthals went extinct because our ancestors ate them. The scholarly contributions of Author Kiss My Ass were surprisingly accurate.

Update: Placentas buried under avocado trees.

das übelste der Übel

Monday, January 5th, 2009

Probably the only inaugural poem you’ll need to read this year:

history is torn and blistery
the future’s sutures are a mystery
wooed by healing thoughts, we swooned
and thus forgot to clean the wound

(also, I decided to try putting poems in block quotes)

Jólnir vs. White Christ-mas

Thursday, December 25th, 2008

To mark today’s ancient festival, I’d like to remind our readership that the poems on this blog are not meant for effete postmodern snobs.  No, they belong to TIME-HONORED VIKING TRADITION: the tradition of men like Egill Skallagrímsson who, after vomiting in their enemies’ faces and biting through berserkers’ throats, would record their valiant deeds for posterity in extemporaneous verse.  They also dressed really spiffy.  The best Vikings were, like Mike Gravel and Frank Zappa, UTTERLY COMPLETE HUMAN BEINGS.

Unfortunately, if the Vikings had any fault, it was their Scandinavian open-mindedness and tolerance.  This made them easy prey to Christian missionaries, resulting in five centuries of Catholicism and another five centuries of Lutheranism.  LET THAT BE A LESSON TO YOU.  So, as penance for the sins of my ancestors*, I present to you the lyrics of my Viking metal “Christmas” song which I’m probably never going to get around to recording because I don’t really give a shit.  I dedicate it to pagans everywhere.

Oh yeah, and I decided to put it in all caps to UNLEASH THE FURY.  THERE IS NO ROOM FOR SUBTLETY IN METAL.


ich hab’ keine Lust meine Pflicht zu erfüllen

Monday, September 29th, 2008

Inspired by Nirvana’s “Scentless Apprentice” and Nina Hagen’s “Unbeschreiblich Weiblich,” I wrote some more song titles along the same lines:

Phallogocentric Shmendrick
Abstruse Masseuse
Engorged Geordi LaForge
Collegiate Eedjit
Skinny-assed Cineaste
Genderqueer Engineer
Freestyling Skræling

(I should note that “unbeschreiblich weiblich,” being adjectival, doesn’t technically fit in with these, but what the fuck.)

fuck off, I’m voting for Nader

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

This year’s Olympics of Banality are turning out AWESOME. Here’s a poem about consumer politics in America, specifically the pathetic Obama movement. I wrote most of it a few months ago. It’s in all lowercase with minimal punctuation because I didn’t want the typography to interrupt the doucheflow. It’s still pretty rough, but that’s the nature of topical political poetry.


i’m convinced barack is a new kind of politician
my obama sneakers are limited edition
i got an obama vinyl figurine from japan
i circuit-bent my speak and spell to say “yes we can” (more…)

Thank you for your pohickory subsequent to iteration Maginot Line. However, your wornil was not selected for the first sprinkle iteration.

Tuesday, September 16th, 2008

I wrote this little baroque-flarf gem in maybe early 2004 (although parts of it are older) and submitted it to a student publication at my alma mater. They rejected it, because they are idiots.

the dying sonnet sacrifices its only begotten spazz-bastard for the future

midget abortion trash
sang in starry night of shit
blinking fast and heavy
you motherfucker. (more…)

early works, part I

Wednesday, September 10th, 2008

Here are some poems I wrote when I was 11 or 12.

The first one kind of peters out at the end. Fuck you, I was in sixth grade. It was probably my bedtime.

The Refrygerator

Refrygerator! Refrygerator! freezing bright
In the kitchens of the night:
What industrial gizmo or widget
Could keep the meat loaf so darn frigid?