girls say LATER to boys who say NADER

(unless they look like James Spader)

Hi! It’s been over a month since Poetariat’s last dispatch, so here are some brief notes in lieu of anything substantial:

a) Smokehouse is working on what will be one of the greatest literary masterpieces of all time. You will see it if and when she decides you’re worthy of it.

b) I have been avoiding the Blog-O-Sphere (it sounds like a Devo song when you write it like that) due to my distaste for constant lovebombings in favor of deus ex machina chicagoensis. I was going to vote for Nader, who has captured the elusive yet all-important Druid vote, but then I heard that women will deny me access to the magical Skinner boxes between their legs for the next four to eight years if I do that! And naturally I believe that all civic choices should be made on a libidinal basis… which is why I voted for macho man Mike Gravel in the primary.

c) I haven’t written any worthwhile poetry lately (besides the title of this post), but soon I’ll probably post some other stuff I’ve been doing. I’ve been working on another one of my drawings, but maybe I’ll also serialize an album of music if I feel like it.

ich hab’ keine Lust meine Pflicht zu erfüllen

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

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” Continue reading “fuck off, I’m voting for Nader”

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

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

Little Kid on a Stick

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. Continue reading “Little Kid on a Stick”

early works, part I

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?

Continue reading “early works, part I”


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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.