These words they cannot be rewritten to bright beat the minds of pop culture fiends
Against the steel wall of the infinite Hollywood signs, dripping blood,
Until the creative mind is bled dry.
Then working the street corners to pay the corporate copies far too much for a strip tease by a fat transvestite, night after night;
But we never realize there is no end,
No end to the dirty cock being shoved down our throats —
Though we think there will be a pussy at the end;
Except there's just pubic hair stuck in our teeth,
And along the way we've forgotten what it is like to have an empty mouth,
Without cock coming out of our mouth and asshole,
Such that now it feels right.
Look up at the man in a suite holding the camera,
Like the attention you get from the broken world.
One man ass-fucks another then gets ass-fucked himself;
Then bumped further in by a third,
Till the world is united by cock and asshole.
i am the moon and i strive to be the sun.
prison is a home where i see my face.
i am waiting for the return of dialectical amphibianism ,
moreover the destruction of saga, a virtuistic display of
realism is a transvestite.
i am a single finger, severed and still, floating through
the universe, Kakarot is "the Good" and is the only one
with all four natural Forms.
humans train in mirrors, under Schopenhauer's blade,
i am sure of that.
platonicism is a pair of testicles.
from the sky, answers become clouded discoveries, beyond
being. now my ears feel as witches do.
Soren, Soren, Soren! we hear you, can it coffee,
cold-cocked realism synonymous with phenomenalism.
tragedy by way of crystallized pioneers, you bet—
Achilles sought out the evils of life, taught Robert
Johnson everything the knows.
in one swift whimsical plane, prime matter pondered out
loud and evolved, ultimately offering his palm to grasp
the four Forms.
we all agree the platonic solids were forged in the mirror
of the Red House
over yonder, in ninety-nine
and one half days.
It was a lonely night
East grace street
Richmond's art district
on the border of Jackson's Ward
my side of the city
more bums than students
right by the transvestite bar
I met a fellow,
strange in appearance
black dress shirt
black hair slicked over a waxy skull
'scuse me sir
ya gotta smoke
no man, I'm all out
all tapped out for cash
wanna strike a bargain
this roadside stranger
the hour was wee
cracked a cracked teeth smile
I knew I should deny
what're your terms
use your wrists
tell the people I'm still sittin' here on the side of the road with a sign askin forra smoke
vocabulary voraciously stolen by the non vox populi
he gave me a pack of filters
I lit up
eyes dancing, lost in the cherry's afterglow
and I felt it gone
I sold my soul that night
and I don't feel like looking for it
A Poem by quinfinn
" the f.b.i. estimates that at any given time in america there are at least three dozen serial killers at large. these are just the notorious ones, most have been apprehended, some are still "working" "
This Poem is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers under 18.
jack the ripper, of london, was notorious first
charles manson and family may have been the worst
son of sam/david berkowitz "bang, bang, bang"
b.t.k. out in kansas was an evil man
albert fish/vampire of brooklyn would devour your child
jane toppan would poison her patients with a smile
charles ng, leonard lake created slaves, killed their mates
gary ridgeway took prostitutes on their very last dates
the gainesville ripper, malicious and gruesome
ottis toole, henry lee lucas...a murdering twosome
h.h. holmes victimized the poor
eileen wuornous was a man hating whore
richard speck the transvestite gave nurses a fright
richard ramirez stalked homes at night
the hillside stranglers tortured young girls
andre chicatillo, a monster whose spree still unfurls
lizzie borden gave father, then mother the axe
jeffrey dahmer turned his male victims into snacks
john wayne gacy loved all his thirty boys
ted bundy made his women necrophiliac toys
albert de salvo of boston strangled and raped
ed gein wore the skin of his women, man shaped
the lipstick killer...men and women he sought
zodiac, to this day, has never been caught
© 2011 quinfinn
so what's going on here?
anyone determined a possible
motive or suspects yet
the guy across the street is looking like a potential candidate
the guy waters his flowers and trims his hedges for a living
he throws some sort of odd fertilizer on the ground and then he walks inside
his shirt is discolored at the bottom from sweat and potting soil, some would attest to the fact that he wears the same outfit everyday, kind of scary if you give it some thought
or maybe the transvestite that moved in a few doors down
i suppose you never know what they're up too, huh?
it's all very confusing and i need a lot of help
let's go get coffee
General Barker: What are you doing, Corporal?
Radar: Doing, sir?
Barker: D-O-I-N-G! What are you doing?
Radar: I'm listening to you spell "doing", sir.
General Barker: Nurse, is everyone in this outfit crazy?
Nurse: Everybody who's sane is, sir.
Hawkeye: Three hours ago, this man was in a battle. Two hours ago, we operated on him. He's got a fifty-fifty chance. We win some, we lose some. That's what it's all about. No promises. No guaranteed survival. No "saints in surgical garb." Our willingness, our experience, our technique are not enough. Guns and bombs and anti-personnel mines have more power to take life than we have to preserve it. Not a very happy ending to a movie. But then again, no war is a movie.
Radar: They aren't gonna like this.
Frank: I didn't come here to be liked.
Radar: You certainly came to the right place.
PA Announcement: Attention, the following personnel have volunteered to go on a ten-mile fitness hike. [Silence]
Henry: Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. Rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is doctors can't change rule number one.
Hawkeye: [thinking as he writes] I've never put much stock in ESP, but if it is possible for one person to read another person's mind, Radar has that ability. The little fink.
Radar: [walking past] Is that a nice thing to say?
Colonel Hersh: You got any stethoscopes there?
Hawkeye: WE'RE A MEDICAL UNIT!!!
General Clayton: Henry, are you sitting down?
Henry: [stands up] No, sir.
Clayton: Maybe you better.
Henry: [sits down] Yes, sir.
Hawkeye: Is he giving you calisthenics over the phone?
Sidney: Sign this, soldier.
Klinger: What's it say?
Sidney: It says that I have examined you and found you to be a transvestite and a homosexual.
Klinger: I ain't any of those. Where do you get off calling me that?
Sidney: I think I got the idea from your cleavage.
Klinger: Listen, all I want is a Section 8. You know what you can do with this.
Sidney: Hey soldier. You forgot your purse.
Henry: You were ordered to stand down!
Hawkeye: I did, but I fell up again.
Hawkeye: [looking for maps of the minefield] Why aren't they under "M"?
Radar: Because they're under "B" for "boom."
General Mitchell: Who are you?
Margaret: Majors Burns and Houlihan, sir!
General Mitchell: Which is which?
Hawkeye: Doesn't matter, they're interchangeable.
[Klinger has gone hang-gliding in a housecoat and slippers]
Hawkeye: Did you see that?
Hawkeye: A big red bird with fuzzy pink feet.
Trapper: Hawkeye, did you see that?
Hawkeye: What did you see?
Trapper: A big red bird with fuzzy pink feet.
Hawkeye: Frank, do you know what a hero is? Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, he's somebody who's tired enough and cold enough and hungry enough not to give a damn. I don't give a damn.
Hawkeye: [on the telephone seeking help] Send me anyone! Jack the Ripper! Anyone who's good with a knife!
Frank: You're asking me to let a pervert out of the Army?!
Hawkeye: Oh, by all means, Frank. Let's leave the perverts in the Army.
Trapper: Anyway, Klinger's not a pervert.
Margaret: How do you know?
Trapper: Because I'm one—and he's never at the meetings!
Henry: Don't tell me. I don't want to know about it. You guys have my full permission, and I never said that. I mean, I'm not even here, so how could I? Radar!
Henry: Make an entry in the daily report that I wasn't here today, and bring it to me so I can sign it.
Radar: Uh, sir, if you sign it, it'll show you were here.
Henry: Then you sign it for me.
Radar: Yes, sir. Should I sign your name?
Henry: You'll have to, because I'm gonna say it was a forgery.
Henry: [pulling out Klinger's file] Here we go. Father dying, right?
Klinger: Yes, sir.
Henry: [going through letters in Klinger's file] Father dying, last year. Mother dying, last year. Mother and father dying. Mother, father, and older sister dying. Mother dying and older sister pregnant. Older sister dying and mother pregnant. Younger sister pregnant and older sister dying. Here's an oldie but a goodie: half of the family dying, other half pregnant. [puts file down] Klinger, aren't you ashamed of yourself?
Klinger: Yes sir. I don't deserve to be in the Army.
Flagg: It all depends on HQ.
Flagg: Why did you say HQ? Whoever told you about HQ?
Henry: Well, you told me, Colonel Flagg.
Flagg: Who's Colonel Flagg?
Pratt: [referring to Flagg] Another time, he crashed his Jeep into a wall and set himself on fire.
Hawkeye: Is this guy available for kids' parties?
General Steele: War and whiskey don't mix! General Grant kept throwing up on his bugler.
General Steele: I predict an early end to this war, if it doesn't rain and we get all wet.
General Steele (inspecting Father Mulcahy): There are no atheists in foxholes!
Father Mulcahy: I've heard that.
General Steele I'd like to see a shine on that cross, father.
General Steele (inspecting Radar O'Reilly): The Irish were rotten Indian fighters! (Relenting and patting Radar's shoulders) Enlisted men . . . backbone of the Army! Where are you from, son?
Radar: Iowa, sir—
General Steele: NO TALKING IN THE RANKS!
General Steele (To Klinger): Not now, Margery. I'm inspecting the troops.
General Steele: M is for mobile! And mobile you shall be!
Hawkeye: I will not carry a gun, Frank. When I got thrown into this war I had a clear understanding with the Pentagon: no guns. I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to Old Virginia, I'll even 'hari-kari' if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun!
Hawkeye: I just don’t know why they’re shooting at us. All we want to do is bring them democracy and white bread. Transplant the American dream. Freedom. Achievement. Hyperacidity. Affluence. Flatulence. Technology. Tension. The inalienable right to an early coronary sitting at your desk while plotting to stab your boss in the back.
Sidney: Ladies and gentlemen, take my advice. Pull down your pants, and slide on the ice.
PA Announcement: Due to conditions beyond our control, we regret to announce that lunch is now being served.
Klinger: (On guard duty at night.) Halt! What's the password.
Hawkeye: (in a threatening tone) Outta my way, or i'll split your head open.
Klinger: ...Close enough!
Hawkeye: (After hearing the main dish is liver and/or fish again) ...I didn't hear you say that. Because it isn't possible. It's inhuman to serve the same food day after day. The Geneva convention prohibits the killing of our tastebuds! I simply can not eat the same food day after day. Fish! Liver! Day after day! I've eaten a river of liver, and an ocean of fish! I've eaten so much fish, I'm ready to grow gills! I've eaten so much liver I can only make love if I'm smothered in bacon and onions! (to the rest of the mess tent) Are we going to stand for this?! Are we going to let them do this to us?! NO, I say NO! We're not going to eat this dreck anymore! (starts a riot) We want something else! We want something else! (While chanting continues) Draftees of the world, arise! You have nothing to lose but your cookies! We want something else! (protesting continues, then scene cuts to Hawkeye sitting in Henry's office).
Henry: Just who do you think you are, Pierce?!
Hawkeye: (looking up at Henry with guilt)...I broke under the pressure, warden.
Frank: Klinger, I want to see you out of that dress...tonight!
Klinger: Never on a first date, sir!
Frank: Anyone who needs psychiatry is sick in the head.
Klinger: Colonel, if you can hear me, knock three times. If you can't, knock twice.
(Henry knocks twice)
Klinger: Oh lord, he's dead.
Klinger: What's this morning's breakfast?
Trapper: Last night's dinner.
Klinger: Great, that was yesterday's lunch.
Flagg: My orders are to do whatever it takes to break up this penicillin ring, and I have written permission to die in the attempt!
Klinger (on guard duty): Halt! Who goes there?
Henry: Outta the way, Klinger.
Klinger: I've gotta have the password, Colonel.
Klinger: That was LAST week's password.
Radar: (walking very slowly into the OR, shortly after Blake's departure) I have a message: Lt. Col... Henry Blake's plane...was shot down... over the Sea of Japan. It spun and . . . there were no survivors. (He leaves, fighting tears)
Frank: Another week of command and I'd have had you out of that dress!
Klinger: I'm not that easy.
Klinger: Colonel Potter, sir. Corporal Klinger. I'm section eight, head-to-toe. I'm wearing a Warner bra. I play with dolls. My last wish is to be buried in my mother's wedding gown. I'm nuts. I should be out.
Potter: Horse hockey! I've seen these dodges for 40 years, all the tricks. Knew a private, pretended he was a mare. Carried a colt in his arm for weeks. Another fellow said he was a daisy. Insisted we water him every morning. No, no, Corporal. It ain't gonna go with me. Now you get out of that froufrou and into a uniform. And you stay in uniform. Dismissed!
Jenkins: Halt, who goes there?
Radar: It's the Colonel.
Jenkins: Oh, sorry, go ahead, sir.
Potter: Don't you want to know the password?
Jenkins: I already know it, sir.
Hawkeye They'll keep coming whether I'm here or not. Trapper went home, they're still coming. Henry got killed and they're still coming. Wherever they come from, they'll never run out.
Captain Pratt: Well, you are, doctor, I am afraid, what George Orwell referred to in 1984 as an "un-person." [chuckles]
Hawkeye: An "un-person"? Now I'm an un-person. Do you know that right now back in Maine my father, not realizing I'm undead, is at this moment mourning his "un-son."
Captain Pratt: Well, I don't know any other way out of it.
Hawkeye: Oh, you don't, huh? He just rattles around in that empty house, gives my things away to the Salvation Army and ages a couple of years for every day he thinks I've shaken off this khaki coil!
Frank (into walkie-talkie): Attention all Allied personnel: There are only about half a dozen stars visible, sky-wise: I am directly under the brightest one.
Hawkeye: Very good, Frank.
BJ: They'll start looking for us in Bethlehem.
Hawkeye: Bite your tongue, Margaret. Or better yet, let me do it.
(Hawkeye is teaching Koreans to speak English)
Hawkeye: I will get the nurse.
South Koreans (with limited English): I will get the nurse.
Hawkeye: Frank Burns eats worms.
South Koreans: Frank Burns eats worms.
Mulcahy: (talking about a patient): Is he going to be all right?
Hawkeye: Well, we could be bombed, there could be an avalanche, or Frank could operate on him again.
(Hawkeye turns and points to the South Koreans)
South Koreans: You tell him, Ferret Face.
Potter: I've got a soft spot for Klinger. He looks a little like my son and he dresses a lot like my wife.
Colonel Coner: Our losses were insignificant.
Hawkeye: How many kids in an insignificant?
Frank: The way I see it, unless we each conform, unless we obey orders, unless we follow our leaders blindly, there is no possible way we can remain free.
BJ: Minding my own business is a full-time job. In my spare time, it's my hobby. I can't divide myself emotionally. I couldn't break my word to Peg, and not because God will send me to Hell without an electric fan or because it's not the right thing to do. I simply don't want to.
Hawkeye: You've got a lot to learn about messing up your life.
Hawkeye: A war is like when it rains in New York and everybody crowds into doorways, ya know? And they all get chummy together. Perfect strangers. The only difference, of course, is in a war it's also raining on the other side of the street, and the people who are chummy over there are trying to kill the people who are over here who are chums.
Klinger: If I had all the answers, I'd run for God.
Frank: Pierce, you disgust me!
Hawkeye: That's right, Frank. I discussed you with everyone I know. They all think you're disgusting.
Radar [reading Hawkeye's letter]: "Take care, son. We are connecting the dogs."
Hawkeye: That's "counting the days."
Radar: "We are counting the days. All my love..." Major Burns.
Radar: Major Burns, coming this way.
Margaret: Did you ever once show me any friendship? Ever ask my help in a personal problem? Include me in one of your little bull sessions? Can you imagine how it feels to walk by this tent and... [gasps and breaks down] hear you laughing and know that I'm not welcome? Did you ever offer me a lousy cup of coffee?
Nurse: We didn't think you'd accept.
Margaret: Well, you were wrong.
Klinger (as a Korean girl stares at his dress): This is what happens to you when you don't eat your vegetables.
Sidney: Freud said that there is a link between anger and wit. Anger turned inwards is depression. Anger turned sideways is Hawkeye.
Klinger: Is it any wonder I can't get a Section Eight? In this unit, if you want to be crazy, you gotta stand in line.
Klinger: Who put gasoline in my gasoline?
Potter: (seeing Klinger eat a piece of a jeep): "A" for effort Klinger but it's not gonna work.
Klinger: Watch this. (swallows the lugnut and smiles).
Radar: Oh wow right down.
Klinger: Dip it in a little 30 weight motor oil, pop it in and let it slide down the gullet like a blue point oyster.
Radar: Colonel he's crazy.
Klinger: See? I got a witness. You gotta give me a Section 8 and send me home.
Potter: No dice.
Klinger: If you don't let me out for being a nut you're nuttier than me! Sir.'
[Klinger is playing horseshoes with Potter.]
Potter: I don't know how you do it, Klinger.
Klinger: Well, sir, I learned how to throw horseshoes in Toledo.
Potter: What's that got to do with it?
Klinger: We didn't throw them for fun. We threw them in self-defense!
Potter: Listen, it's too big a world to be in competition with everybody. The only person I'm out to beat is who I am right now. And in your case, that's tough enough.
BJ [singing]: Git along, little doggie...
Hawkeye: I had a long little doggie once. A Dachshund.
BJ: Oh a little hot dog. What happened to it?
Hawkeye: It got all mustered out.
BJ: I relish these conversations.
Moody: When I was a kid, I used to fight all the time when people put me down. I believed what they said about me. Not any more. I've been up on the line. I had the guts to go out there and drag 'em back to the aid station. No one's gonna get me again with any verbal abuse because I got something guys like that will never have - self-respect.
Hawkeye: Look, you can't lay all that on my shoulders. Don't you know how much this place stinks? Don't you know what it's like to stand day after day in blood? In the blood of children? I hate this place. And if I can't stand up to it to your satisfaction, then... then the hell with it. How dare you? The hell with your Iowa naivete, and the hell with your hero worship and your teddy bear, and while you're at it, the hell with you! Why don't you grow up, for crying out loud? I'm not here for you to admire. I'm here to pull bodies out of a sausage grinder, if possible without going crazy. Period. (Radar begins to cry) Come on, cut it out. Stop it, will ya!? You ninny!
Radar: I don't think this place is turning out to be that great an experience for me. I mean I work under terrible pressure and everything and there's a lot of death and destruction and stuff but outside of that I don't think I'm really getting much out of it.
Hawkeye: Radar I'd like to apologize.
Radar: Oh yeah? Well you can just forget it. Just forget it! The hell with me huh. The hell with you. How about that? And another thing. I wanna tell you something. Anyone who says anything about Iowa better be prepared to back it up pal. I'll give you a fistful of Iowa naiveteness right in the stomach. How about that huh?!
Hawkeye (stopping the nurse trying to calm Radar down): No, let him go.
Radar: You know I don't need you to tell me what's what. I know what's what just as well as you do. So why don't you just crawl back in your bottle of booze and pickle yourself?
Sidney: When Pierce and Hunnicutt lose one, he's out of his misery. When I lose one, I've lost a mind.
Mulcahy: When I lose one, I've lost a soul. I guess it all depends on your point of view.
Charles: Do you two realize that you are singing two entirely different operas and they're both out of tune?
Hawkeye: Don't blame me, I didn't write this stuff.
Klinger: When I leave the army, it'll be the honorable way...with a section 8!
Klinger: Colonel, I missed you!
Klinger: About my heart murmur, Sir...
Klinger: My double vision is coming back.
Klinger: I've fallen in love with a goat!
Klinger: Glad to have you back, Sir.
Hawkeye (trying to guess what "BJ" stands for): Belvedere Jehoshaphat.
BJ: Got it! First try.
Hawkeye (still trying to guess what "BJ" stands for): Was your mother Spanish?
BJ: No, why?
Hawkeye: That eliminates Benito Juarez.
Kwang: Why do you wear the uniform of a nurse?
Klinger: It's a disguise. I'm hiding from sanity.
Kwang: That's crazy.
Klinger: See? It's working!
Hawkeye: Look at this! All my fleas are dead! [to Charles] MURDERER!
Hawkeye: I am the essence of overconfidence. I am speculation, adventure, the spirit of pursuit, the stag howling for its winsome, yet anonymous mate. I am the love call of evolution, the perfume and color of the flowers as they offer their pollen to the gentle fuzz of the bees. I am sex itself, gentlemen. I am life, I am appetite!
BJ: And I'm not taking my clothes off till he leaves.
Hawkeye: With Klinger and Mulcahy's blood in him, this kid will wake up singing "Ave Maria" in Lebanese.
Potter: What is this idiocy about?
Flagg: Your spy ring.
Potter: Spy ring?
Flagg: Very clever, hiding under a house of cards while you plot the overthrow of the free world.
Hawkeye: He's got us, guys, we might as well confess. I'm Joe Stalin. This is Mao Tse-Tung, Marshall Tito, and, of course, you already know Lenin. What can I say, we couldn't get a room in the Kremlin.
Potter: Listen, Radar, I guess you realize I'm kinda fond of you. Lord knows I've never met a soul I could depend on more, but above all that, you've been a damn good friend. Well, friend, it's time we said goodbye. Time you got on with your life. You've come as far as you can go here. You've earned your wings... now you've gotta fly.
Radar (his last line in MAS*H): I'm ready, let's go.
Potter (to Hawkeye): This is the happy hour. Angry hour starts at ten!
Hawkeye: We're 3 1/2 minutes over! Damn it!!
BJ: Maybe the hypothermia bought us some time.
Hawkeye: Yeah, on the other hand, maybe it didn't.
BJ: Hawk, we saved his life.
Hawkeye: Yeah, well I guess that's something.
BJ: It's more than something, it's everything.
[Hawkeye and BJ ask Klinger who he thinks is the funniest guy in the camp.]
Klinger: It's no contest: neither one of you. You guys don't even make the first cut. I'm trying to tell my uncle what kind of a place I work in: doctors, nurses saving lives. Well, I got a commanding officer who dresses me up in his clothes and sits me on a horse named Sophie so he can paint his own picture. There's a priest writing war ditties, and a snooty Major who pays me twenty bucks to follow him out in the woods and watch him blow up a pigeon with a landmine. And if that doesn't do it for ya, I got a head nurse who shoots unarmed luggage. All you two guys do is walk around all day telling jokes. What the hell's so funny about that? It's no wonder I never got a Section Eight; there's nothing special about me. Everybody here is crazy.
Potter: It's a tragedy people have to eat horses, they're beautiful animals. You ever take a peek at a cow or a pig? They're ugly. We're doing them a favor by eating 'em . Saves 'em the agony of looking at their reflections in the trough every morning. But a horse, that's a noble beast. Why, in the cavalry, a man's steed was his best friend, a real companion. Where do people get off making pork chops out of them? Too much killing in this world, too much death. No respect for people, for tradition, for life. The whole world is spinning down the tubes and nobody even seems to notice. I don't know, I...
Hawkeye: I think our job might be a little easier than yours, Sidney. At least we can always see where they're bleeding.
Hawkeye: (answering a letter after operating on a young girl): "Ronnie, it's not a good idea to take the love you had for your brother and turn it into hate. Hate makes war, and war is what killed him. I understand your feelings. Sometimes I hate myself for being here. But once in a while, in the midst of this insanity, a very small event can make my being here seem almost bearable. I'm sorry I don't have an answer for you, Ronnie, except to suggest that you look for good wherever you can find it."
Margaret: It never fails to astonish me. You're alive, you're dead. No drums, no flashing lights, no fanfare. You're just dead.
Klinger: Now the army is my best friend... I may get shot in the stomach... but I won't get stabbed in the back.
Hawkeye: (Drinking coffee): I'm sorry Father. I don't really feel much like talking. I just had to tell a patient he has leukemia.
Mulcahy: Good heavens. That must have been very difficult for you.
Hawkeye: I didn't want to tell him but he wouldn't let me off the hook. I'm a doctor, a guy looks to me for answers and the only thing I can say is that you have this incurable disease and there is nothing I can do about it. Can't blame this on the war. Can't blame it on anything.
Mulcahy: Especially yourself.
Soldier: Am I all right? I can't feel anything in my legs.
Charles: Try to hang on. We're going to get you to a MASH unit and they'll patch you up just fine.
Soldier: I don't know if I can, Doc. I feel real weird.
Charles: Just stay with it.
Soldier: You still there?
Soldier: I can't see you, hold my hand.
Charles: I am holding it.
Soldier: I can't feel it. Oh God, I'm gonna die.
Charles: Can you hear me?
Charles (crying): What is happening to you? Can you feel anything? See anything? Please, I have to know. What is happening to you?
Soldier: I smell bread.
Charles: I don't understand.
PA Announcement: Attention! The Chinese have begun a new offensive. Command anticipate heavy casualties within the next twenty-four hours. This is a recording.
Potter: Every month there's a new procedure we have to learn because somebody's come up with an even better way to mutilate the human body! Tell me this, Captain: how the hell am I supposed to keep up with it?!
Captain: I'm only...
Potter: If they can invent better ways to kill each other, why can't they invent a way to end this stupid war?!!
[Last scene of the series]
Hawkeye: Look, I know how tough it is for you to say goodbye, so I'll say it. Maybe you're right. Maybe we will see each other again. But just in case we don't, I want you to know how much you've meant to me. I'll never be able to shake you. Whenever I see a pair of big feet or a cheesy mustache, I'll think of you.
B. J.: Whenever I smell month-old socks, I'll think of you.
Hawkeye: Or the next time somebody nails my shoe to the floor...
B. J.: Or when somebody gives me a martini that tastes like lighter fluid.
Hawkeye: I'll miss you.
B. J.: I'll miss you, a lot. I can't imagine what this place would've been like if I hadn't found you here. [The two men hug, then Hawkeye boards the helicopter while B. J. mounts his motorcycle, where he shouts over the helicopter] I'll see you back in the States—I promise! But just in case, I left you a note!
[B. J. rides off. Hawkeye gives the pilot the thumbs-up to take off. As the helicopter ascends, Hawkeye looks down and smiles as he sees a message spelled in stones: GOODBYE]
In a lavatory a pink transvestite
Applies ruby and rouge
To my cosmetic mask
Hoping for a wished encounter
A fiction overcomes us
Conveys us as strangers
Into an unknown territory
Leaves us there
The two of us, stranded
Our location inaccessible
As intuitive yet unpredictable
The rehearsed persona
Funny my little friend who insist
In trying on a lady's hat,
Oh I see even if the joke falls flat on
Your face even why you have the lady's
My little friend had a grin on his face
With so much grace of play ;
We share your slight transvestite twist
In spite of our embarrassment.
Costume and custom are complex.
You have this look of a style man with the
Hands of a woman ;
The headgear of the other sex inspires us to
Experiment what she had in her shop.
At the beach we run and have all kinds of
Fun , My best friend in the whole world is
He , Even when he acts sometimes like '' woman'',
The natural madness of the hatter's looking down
On us just because my friend loves to play in the
Sand like a woman even though he is a man .
And if the opera hats collapse and crowns grow draughty,
Then, perhaps he might fit into this sad crown we could
Live without !
Funny my little friend with lipstick in his hands ,
You who wore a hat of a woman that's too big for you ,
And you play in the sand acting like a woman ,
Now you have lipstick in your hand and know a plying
It on your lips now I am confused ,
My little friend is exemplary and slim, with a vernal eye,
I wonder what he is going to do next !
What slow changes he made in front of me ,
His vast, shady, turned-down brim. Then he looked back at
Me with a style of fashion Like a woman ,
And he asks me if he was a woman even though he is a man
Would I look down on my little friend ?
I smile and said to my little friend I love you just the way you
I do not own a motorbike,
Never been a member of the Third Reich.
I’m not Italian, French or gay,
(No homophobe, just not built that way).
I’m not Tom Jones or a member of Queen,
I’m not going back to the seventies in a time machine.
I’m not a backing dancer for Madonna,
Talc on my legs “I don’t wanna”.
So why do I own a pair of leather trousers?
This was definitely a mistake,
Like breaking wind on a first date,
Swearing at the boss at the crimbo celebration,
Being caught by parents doing a sexual gyration.
Persuaded to buy them, through the mist of lust she had taste,
I found out too late, she was highly religious, chaste.
Good quality, not cheap, never worn,
Could be used in transvestite porn!
Does anyone want a pair of leather trousers?
....a different life so long ago.
Dreams of swastikas and rose-tinted spectacles
floating through my head.
One moment I was the Polish Jew;
an aristocratic, Aryan German --
Dual reflections held in the iron-gaze
of the hammer and anvil.
I held you in my youthful arms,
and you felt like a sweet, hairy goat.
Rotting on the inside, yet shining brightly
with so much beauty and life all at once.
Serpents rose from the secret codes of my loins,
and I worshipped you as an old, universal lover
as I penetrated your dark womb;
a sanctified temple of Angels and Daemons.
Initially we prayed to the inverted graves,
so young of heart and mind we were.
But even though our love
seemed consummated in the kiln of hell,
our love was true passion,
paralleling the flames flickering against our fresh skin.
Yes, this kiln cured our wicked ways,
so that the vessel of our love,
shining like glass,
finally cooled off to less dangerous levels
in the cool breeze of heavenly skies.
And then we wiped off the green grins from its surface.
It has always been about heaven and hell.
Whether through belief,
or personifications of the laboratory mind.
One cannot only pray to 'him' alone;
both phallic powers are needed
in order to light the spark of creativity/creation.
"Our Father AND Mother who art in Heaven(after),
hallowed be both thy names."
Male and female energies
fusing together into a singular 'it'--
praying to both him and her,
breathing life into each other
like slightly distorted, transvestite, siamese-twins.
....we wanted to stay in the changing pleasures of the flesh,
but our minds spread wings.
ascending smoothly and with turbulence both,
we transformed into golden light,
moving invisible objects with our thoughts,
opening secret locks and shackles,
figuring out who was who -
who were the Angels and who were the Daemons,
who were Daemons, and who were Angels.