Archive for September, 2008

we’ve arrived

Monday, September 29th, 2008

I helped Patrick McGoohan escape

It’s come to my attention that literary powerhouse This Recording links to us in their massive tl;dr blogroll! I am so flattered!

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.)

Palin-drome number 1

Monday, September 22nd, 2008

Because “All I saw: Wasilla” was too easy: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dumbelinathedaft/2877369709/

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…)

Little Kid on a Stick

Saturday, September 13th, 2008

I’ve been meaning to post more, but my job is taking over my life. This is a short story/fairy tale that was originally part of a play I wrote in college. The play was also called “Little Kid on a Stick” and entwined two fractured narratives that I don’t really feel like talking about and it’s not really important anyway. Here is the story, I hope you enjoy it:

Once upon a time there was a babysitter named Mary. The Babysitter worked hard. Even when she relaxed, she was working hard. She never really had fun, though she knew how to look like she was enjoying herself. The Babysitter was the best at what she did and she knew it. Lives hung in the balance when The Babysitter was on duty. She had to be ready for every contingency. (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?

(more…)

babyfur

Thursday, September 4th, 2008

Here’s a poem I wrote in like 5 minutes, about a year and a half ago, about that magical subculture where furversion and adult baby fetishism intersect. It’s pretty terrible, but you’ll like it better when I turn it into a song. I’m thinking of programming it in Pure Data and making it sound like a Shaggy song (the anti-scansion lends itself to reggae chanting) produced by Iannis Xenakis and DAT Politics.

Babyfur
You’re worse than those people who think that they’re Druids
Babyfur
It couldn’t possibly get any more disgusting without somehow involving clowns, hemorrhoids, or unorthodox bodily fluids

Babyfur
When your peers are going out to shitty bars and dressing spiffy
Babyfur
You’re busy at the Anthrocon in your fursuit getting yiffy

Babyfur
Saying “goo goo ga ga” and crapping your diapers
Babyfur
If you met 50 Cent, he would probably bust a cap in your diapers

Babyfur
All your friends are furverts and otherkin
Babyfur
Hey, at least you’re not a Republican

why are things the way they are? Τί ἐστιν ἀλήθεια;

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008

Here are three biographical poems about important individuals of our time. I wrote them in early 2008. They’re not really clerihews, but what the fuck:

1. Richard Kern

Improper kerning can make porno pomo,
But if you don’t like Kern, you must be a homo.

[I realize there are plenty of homos who like Kern, but what can I say, I’m phallogocentric.]

2. Mitt Romney

I may be omnisexual, but I’m not Mitt Romneysexual:
My youthful raging hormones don’t extend to aging Mormons.
You lived in France at the same time Godard did,
And anyone who voted for you must be retarded.

3. Sofia Coppola

It seems that you operate with the belief
That film is a shallower shallow relief.
No amount of film school could save ya
And I wish I could punch you right in the labia.

Norwegian Wood

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008

This is the only piece of literature that we, the two authors of this blog (Smokehouse and Moral Authority), have written collaboratively thus far. It was inspired by an ill-advised (though totally awesome) encounter that I, Smokehouse, had with a certain Norwegian. I did indeed send this poem to its subject, much to the chagrin of certain friends who, though kind and loving, have unprogressive things to say about aggressive female sexuality and/or self-debasement. The subject, being a philistine, rejected our poem. I will keep personal details to a minimum. I will provide them when I think they might enhance your enjoyment of our writing. And perhaps in posting these details, it will serve to remind me that haste in courtship can sometimes make things more difficult than cowardice.

Norwegian Wood
Fully Engorged Edition

Part I
Invocation of Bragi

Please sing to me, oh Bragi, I’ll
Get plugged by Gunnar doggy style
I am no Snorri and this is no Edda
My purpose no grander than to give some head-ah
I betrayed my man like Vidkun Quisling
I never cheat but this Norseman was sizzling
How could I resist fucking one of the Aesir
When my boyfriend would be none the wiser?
So I got on all fours and he tapped my ass hard
Then he got on Sleipnir and rode back to Asgard

(more…)