May 2016
a poem by
Alice Nemo
entitled:
(a) poem that summarises much
of walt whitman
without all the airy-fairy
angst-ridden waffle (2004,
poetry magazine
Monkey Kettle).
under copyright restrictions you'd have to read the printed
version - still the pretentious "published" writers
waving paper about as a mark of superiority?
look, with the internet publishing Ferrari
you can wave published paper works a bit like a fiat currency,
which is the current currency - i can do the same with
a poetry book, a paperback edition, a bit like
Max Keiser explaining the concept to Russell
Brand ripping up a twenty quid bill...
i could do likewise with some pretentious ***
and his published book of prose and just tell him:
i don't believe in it, not a single word of it,
i'm more worried about the one book, two book
dilemma coming from a simple heresy in
the old testament done by Malachi confused
about fractions, incorporating some sort of
reincarnation process to the 1 over 1 rule of mono.
but i have to apologise to
Ms. Nemo,
whitman's
joke concerning his
poetry was unearthed
this year...
the rediscovered advice
to America's men:
meat, beards
and not too much ***.
let me reiterate what fiat currency gave us,
fiat literature... America's got talent children's books,
fiat currency undermined literature by creating
fiat literature - both paper, easier for any idiot
to understand - might as well have a currency where
you post checks using the paper aeroplane postman
of your right hand - because to what will you now
apply the concept of money to? gold is tacky,
a rich man with gold is tacky, a gypsy, or platinum,
a double gypsy, and he's a total gimp
with a gold plated Rolls Royce, sending a fleet
or like-for-like rides to roll in London, but only
around Knightsbridge... and sometimes down to
the shady parts of London like Edgware Road -
you know, where the real London ganstas hang out.
god, i'm never going to
cite the whitman answer now,
revealing the man behind
others' interpretation
as Ms. Nemo suggested:
airy-fairy angst-riddle
waffle...
was that really a
Smiths' song
from the album
god save the queer?
old school quiz:
old man the quasi-******,
talked like a castrato
sung like a baritone... it
was perplexing...
but apparently when
not singing
he used a testicular
****** that squeezed the *****,
making him talk
like a pre-pubescent boy
walking on tiptoe.
yeah... 47,000 word treatise
autumn 1858
a mythological
New York newspaper (myth-
i.e. long ago defunct),
main points:
- beards are great sanitary
protection to the throat,
- too much repetition
with *** = weedy children
- a healthy manly virility seems
to be
almost lost -
seems to have given place to a morbid,
almost insane,
pursuit of women,
especially of the lowest ranges
of them;
(the ******* contract = no chase, but of course!)
surely the personae of the odes to Lincoln
a decent enough act,
yet behind the man... words as those above.
Alice Nemo
entitled:
(a) poem that summarises much
of walt whitman
without all the airy-fairy
angst-ridden waffle (2004,
poetry magazine
Monkey Kettle).
under copyright restrictions you'd have to read the printed
version - still the pretentious "published" writers
waving paper about as a mark of superiority?
look, with the internet publishing Ferrari
you can wave published paper works a bit like a fiat currency,
which is the current currency - i can do the same with
a poetry book, a paperback edition, a bit like
Max Keiser explaining the concept to Russell
Brand ripping up a twenty quid bill...
i could do likewise with some pretentious ***
and his published book of prose and just tell him:
i don't believe in it, not a single word of it,
i'm more worried about the one book, two book
dilemma coming from a simple heresy in
the old testament done by Malachi confused
about fractions, incorporating some sort of
reincarnation process to the 1 over 1 rule of mono.
but i have to apologise to
Ms. Nemo,
whitman's
joke concerning his
poetry was unearthed
this year...
the rediscovered advice
to America's men:
meat, beards
and not too much ***.
let me reiterate what fiat currency gave us,
fiat literature... America's got talent children's books,
fiat currency undermined literature by creating
fiat literature - both paper, easier for any idiot
to understand - might as well have a currency where
you post checks using the paper aeroplane postman
of your right hand - because to what will you now
apply the concept of money to? gold is tacky,
a rich man with gold is tacky, a gypsy, or platinum,
a double gypsy, and he's a total gimp
with a gold plated Rolls Royce, sending a fleet
or like-for-like rides to roll in London, but only
around Knightsbridge... and sometimes down to
the shady parts of London like Edgware Road -
you know, where the real London ganstas hang out.
god, i'm never going to
cite the whitman answer now,
revealing the man behind
others' interpretation
as Ms. Nemo suggested:
airy-fairy angst-riddle
waffle...
was that really a
Smiths' song
from the album
god save the queer?
old school quiz:
old man the quasi-******,
talked like a castrato
sung like a baritone... it
was perplexing...
but apparently when
not singing
he used a testicular
****** that squeezed the *****,
making him talk
like a pre-pubescent boy
walking on tiptoe.
yeah... 47,000 word treatise
autumn 1858
a mythological
New York newspaper (myth-
i.e. long ago defunct),
main points:
- beards are great sanitary
protection to the throat,
- too much repetition
with *** = weedy children
- a healthy manly virility seems
to be
almost lost -
seems to have given place to a morbid,
almost insane,
pursuit of women,
especially of the lowest ranges
of them;
(the ******* contract = no chase, but of course!)
surely the personae of the odes to Lincoln
a decent enough act,
yet behind the man... words as those above.
