The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

LLAMANDO EN MI DESCREMADA ESTES ÚTEROS NO LES PONDRÁN TACONES

‘Twas lovely wandering summer evening parks.

‘Twas in Gelat’nousboulder1 where I saw

trash all scattered ‘long the vomit lawn, accomp’nied by

globs o’ doggie shit & feel-good posters taped on tree

boughs. ¡How nice o’ nature, serving such important needs!

Surely tacky clip-art betters boring orchids. ¡Phhh!

Luckily I saw the man whose dog improved the park

with its priceless art. Enraptured, I went up to him,

carrying the excrement in question, & I said,

I said to him,

—Hey, buddy, I know both your game & your frame--

& I don’t think either tastes too tangy.

¿Qué es tu puto cuño,

San Buzo?—

& he’s all like,

—¿You like it? I just whipped them up this morning in FrontPage. I think the kitten in the box saying, «Cat in winter box. Pondering meaning of life. ¿What’s it all mean, cat?» is the funniest part—.

I jammed them down the man’s esophagus;

& that’s why I’m in jail for 60 months.

Footnotes

  • [1] Slogan: “Supports iambicish pentameter.”
Posted in Antiromantic Sonnet, Crazy, Española, Haiku, Senryu y amigos, Metered, Poetry

Ode to Trash Can

I can’t even count how many objects you so hawk

From your gaping maw with stains of nameless substances.

How your papers darken with forgotten liquids; bruised

Apple cores turn brown & yellow, swarmed with plump li’l flies.

Still I smell that odor sharp like needles splashed in piss;

Still I feel the stickiness that never shall subside,

Like the ghost of cream that streams out from a phallus cocked.

I desire to roll in you all day, pristine refuse,

For it is in you I know I truly should reside.

Posted in Antiromantic Sonnet, Metered, Poetry