 |
| Anthony Moseley/Photo: Anna Sodziak |
It's no wonder lesser beings would be
driven to strike you.
I don't go in for violence
myself though you know.
I've been in situations that
demanded my pummeling.
Instead I take on
the anger internally.
Everybody, !
It's no wonder lesser beings
would be driven to strike you.
I don't go in for anger
myself so you know.
I've been in situations where the
man would do my pummeling.
Instead I direct
my violence inside.
 |
| Joe Giovannetti & Breahan Eve Pautsch/Photo: Sooz Main |
In my Facebook movie - that
cheap highlight reel -
there's one frame each per my singular
extinguishing of everyone of you
& with your dispatch I
get a hundredsthousand likes from your
cowardly enemies.
But the judge leans my way.
She'd invested in MySpace
and dismisses my case
(She's somebody's mother,
You know)
I then sue the site
for defamation of character
And liberate you
all from
the grave
with the out of
Court settlement. Or
at heart
Don't you recall the status
where I
snuff you out?
You never pay heed
to my social alacrity
Hence the final unfriending
you internet collateral.
The filth who've never
shoveled once since before the
first blast of the polar
vortex should be buried
neck deep in the black
crystallized snow.
For starters.
This poem has been modified from its original version. It has been formatted to fit this screen, avoid redundancy, and not blow your mind.
 |
| Photo: Braden Nesin |
I have a new theoretical feeling
that the women
who get
close to me
intuitively
hate me because
they sense
they can never
crush
me
the way
you did, and
everyone wants that
power over
their
Lover's heart.
The idea is to occupy Facebook with the stampeding inextinguishable force of a borderless cyberimperial power unconcerned with & perhaps even intentionally destructive to the wellbeing of the citizenry. That is, the idea is Facebook.
 |
| Cyra K. Polizzi, Rosa SanMarci, Erin O’Brien/Photo: Jason M. Hammond |
So later my friend with whom
I've seen this nerdy burlesque show i still
need to review happens to
say: "If a chick's giving a webinar on
Women's Studies she's at least
licked a bush." And that sounds like an assumption to me, even if likely, so I
says: "I don't know about that." & she
says: ""Yes, come on - and a lot of girls have" So I try, I
say: "You can't be sure. Like with men... Well, I guess there's
No male equivalent of Women's Studies..." and she
says: "There is no male equivalent." And ,
I say:
"World History is the male equivalent of Women's Studies."
And
Man, she laughs and
says: "That's hilarious. That's funnier than anything we
saw tonight and there's not even any tits in it." And I
say: "There's tits in it alright. The tits in that joke are
offstage.
The tits are in the kitchen.
"
Another review for Newcity Stage:I wed once
Thought it was for keeps but
it was for convenience.
My illusions were resilient but finally
I accepted she had merely been
enamored of my charms. &My winning
streak made
me a most valuable
companion .
Once I was
off my game it was game over.
Waived for the first white boy she
came upon
in our
Quaint Shifting
Colonial
metropolis.
I stayed the same
Shade of
Green I've always
been: I'll live.
I haven't always
played alone since;
Or Even in English nor
Oddly in
Black and
White; some
of these women have been
horrible people / some have been
wonderfully good / some have been
just
about
exactly
the sort
of
character I am.
Happy Valentine's
Night and
Day.
Or I should ought to say
Eve n'
Day n'
Even
(especial lay)
those twilit moments
of dusk and
dawn
sunup and
gloaming
to which no false nor true
Holiday has yet
been
Devoted
.
I'm teaching a class on pop culture.
I don't know how to teach; I know
Pop culture.
When class is over
I'll know pop culture.
So might the students
know
Pop culture
whether they ever
learn how
to be students
of
Pop.
 |
| photo: Rob Smith |
I can't repair the magic ass hat;
the rabbit died there in the
wrong hole. Stillborn murky illusion. Can't
pull it out no more;
rabbit, the
that is.
Léger de main / Sleight of hand, then
heavy
petting.
Bloodlet disaster / bun née abortion, and
sew forth.
Back to the pawn shoppe where iOpt fur
the for cape instead.
For:
• levitating
• dispersing
• disappearing
• wiping your
God Damned
Magic
Tears
Hey you horrible
fakers of calm
Hey you false
practitioners of peace
You devotees of feigned serenity
Nimble deceivers
Slick assailants of the heart by
gentle wind gestures
Rot.
Sheep people I sleep
without you I have
counting I mean
but I
sleep without her count
to twenty to thirty to
fortyfour
.
her count.
Counting sleep people
by the minute the moment no
ours. when we ever Will sleep beside us
beside our sleep our hours
hours of our
sleep behind.
Sleep, people! It's her(e) I wish to sleep
beside(s). Besides I sleep alone since I last
slipped inside
. Sleep people you know you'd
rather not rise.
 |
| Andy Polacek, Jillian Markowitz and Sal Piccolo |
You who damn us weakling addicts
Praise be upon your spotless linen
Hail the sweat of your
self-made brow
( what wore you there
when you were browless
Toiling over your visage's
Work shelf ? )
And in your cursing so
Damned effective
You've saved the lives of every man
woman and
guest
Ye, railing, who brand them weak list bitches -
Hoist me!
( but, I mean, I'll use my own strength )
Aloft! To your
Yammering Echelon!
Hell I never
touch
The stuff
myself.
