Saturday, December 27, 2008
Darwin 2
Gandalf staggered and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid into the abyss. 'Fly, you fools! ' he cried, and was gone. Aragorn clutched the shrieking Dodo to his chest and dragged him out the cave whilst Legolas snootily whipped his hair back several times.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Ode to Foie Gras
I hope
that when my enzymes puncture
your membrane it splatters
like stomping a juicebox
of multipurpose plasma.
I sincerely wish
for each of your molecules to burst
like the spine
of a wooden angel
against my knee.
Our first showdown
I did not puke
you out because I was sure
the squeaky Samoyed
on the couch was gonna lap
up my vomit
and throw you up
with equal zeal.
Friday night after Saturday night
of teenage binge drinking Rosie dragged
me ninety minutes
on that last yellow tram
into France
and down two hills
three farms
a trillion cobblestones
and past an autistic kangaroo
so we could lean
across the tiny marble island
in her kitchen
and eat you.
Gradually my tongue
realized that piping
corn down a frightened duck's
throat until its stomach exploded
and then extracting
and frying its liver
granted it nothing
less than a victory of flavor.
Today if I were to return to school,
rather than eat valu time
whipped cream
off a stripper's pubis
while she did a natural light
keg stand I would force
my friends to sit
in a dorm room
play darts
listen to jazz
drink cheap champagne
and eat you
like a classier insecure freshman.
I drip
funky church water
on myself just to pray
that next time we dine
your full body
is kebabed
on my cupcake's nipple
and continues to synthesize
glucose produce
albumin and break down
hemoglobin in a delicious
hepatocytic free for all
that makes the sheep
proud on doomsday.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Wisdoms: The Philippine Inquirer
"The top 5 foods Filipinos look forward to for Christmas are:
1. Lechon (Suckling Pig)
2. Fruit and Macaroni Salad
3. Spaghetti
4. Ham
5. Queso de Bola (Dutch Edam Cheese)"
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Playing Drunken Poker on Christmas Eve
Baby cousins kneel entranced by pikachu directing other fuzzy lethal creatures to decorate a redwood in Antarctica twenty feet away from this gambling vortex of menthol smoke.
Previously Written: Super Haiku Experiment
These are six of my first ten poems, not including "Ode to a Hole" and "Ode to Drawing", both of which I wrote when I was nine. I don't remember how those two poems went but looking back at it now I think I was better at naming poems before I hit double digits.
Super Haiku Experiment
Lioness
Predator princess
peripherally predicts
Pepe’s pregunta
Predator princess
Learns from mama to pounce first
Ask questions later
Pounce first, ask questions
later. Why you ask? Because
Mufasa said so.
I like this better
Ghazal ribs implode
from the gravity bomb or
haiku’s fluffy paw
Ghazal ribs cave in
from the wrecking ball that is
haiku’s fluffy paw
The Chase
Spotted hunger sprints
sixty five miles per hour
Run motherfucker!
Super Haiku Experiment
Lioness
Predator princess
peripherally predicts
Pepe’s pregunta
Predator princess
Learns from mama to pounce first
Ask questions later
Pounce first, ask questions
later. Why you ask? Because
Mufasa said so.
I like this better
Ghazal ribs implode
from the gravity bomb or
haiku’s fluffy paw
Ghazal ribs cave in
from the wrecking ball that is
haiku’s fluffy paw
The Chase
Spotted hunger sprints
sixty five miles per hour
Run motherfucker!
like
Chase,
Experiment,
Ghazal,
Haiku,
Lion,
Previously Written,
Super,
Super Haiku Experiment
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
I'm Not The Author: How to Eat Golden Cows by Jessika Aldridge
Jessika Aldridge is an exceptionally gifted poet, a beautiful woman and a wonderful person. When she isn't writing kick ass poems she is working two jobs to support her family and going to body pump class to keep her shape hawt.
How to eat golden cows
by Jessika Aldridge
Your skin
Desired look: underside of your husbands balls:
Simply squish cherries between your fingers,
Paint your eyesockets,
Exfoliate with the dirt inside your stomach.
Your toes
Desired look: little peach carrots on the end of your foot:
Do fifty kegels every ten minutes
With your peace sign in the air,
And your bra smothered in tomato sauce.
Your nails
Desired look: shiny coins baking in an oven:
Carefully tie a red ribbon around your neck
With your tongue thrusting on the roof of your mouth,
Gently tug on your clitoris until
You can barely see it.
I have cleaned my teeth with the steams of
Underwater trees and I have brushed my hair
With the hands of dead grandfathers;
Why must I now rub my intestine with
Rhine of orange just to be considered?
How to eat golden cows
by Jessika Aldridge
Your skin
Desired look: underside of your husbands balls:
Simply squish cherries between your fingers,
Paint your eyesockets,
Exfoliate with the dirt inside your stomach.
Your toes
Desired look: little peach carrots on the end of your foot:
Do fifty kegels every ten minutes
With your peace sign in the air,
And your bra smothered in tomato sauce.
Your nails
Desired look: shiny coins baking in an oven:
Carefully tie a red ribbon around your neck
With your tongue thrusting on the roof of your mouth,
Gently tug on your clitoris until
You can barely see it.
I have cleaned my teeth with the steams of
Underwater trees and I have brushed my hair
With the hands of dead grandfathers;
Why must I now rub my intestine with
Rhine of orange just to be considered?
Ilocos Norte
sounds like bampire.
Lola heps heps in the van.
Ipis and butiki fight over my dandruff.
Stupid van bounces along so long we roll backwards
like iron plates loving deep fried pork belly
bagnet magnets and macabre Marcos tombs
spotlit in black dimensions and pre prerecorded anthems.
May the light shine upon you too, jeproks!
say dad’s actually rather wholesome flickr clique aware
of uploads proportional to lola heps heps in the van.
We revisit church no. 3 when the lighting is better
and truck no. 6 when the church isn’t in the way.
Museum no. 4 the sixty year old toothless guide
in a wifebeater and John Stockton shorts
is hella dal dal and fetches
me when I wander away from his lecture.
Museums no. 1-9 are people’s old houses.
Lola heps heps in the van.
Rustic and tropic, we sleep eat and tour
walang working faucets walang yellow walang bedsprings.
Tabo showers. The whole beach has wireless.
Lola heps heps in the van.
Previously Written: Adventure
This is a poem I wrote about Magellan. I was reading a lot of Natasha Trethewey at the time, but I don't know if that shows.
Adventure
Explorer of the world, Magellan sailed
his Victoria across the planet’s everywhere,
Rabban beard crisp from the absorption
of salt water. Seeking a path to
the spice islands of Indonesia,
he camped in a smaller archipelago,
of only seven thousand islands. Drunk,
Spain’s adopted son declared the Sugboanons
servants of God and Spain, worse,
pronounced the people of Mactan enemies
of the Church. Ferdinand began his crusade
two weeks later, exacting holy terror
shaped as axes, swords, crossbows, guns
and cannons – all the marshmallows in
16th century lucky charms: Catholic edition.
Boats and artillery left behind
because of rocky waters, Magellan and his top
fifty favorite Spaniards stormed the Mactan
beach to find one thousand five hundred
infidels chilling, their kampilan, spears and poison
arrows rising slowly before they burned
down the wind, suffocating the Westerners
with a rice and fish diet
and a grand putang ina mo.
Filipinos always had great appetites.
Chieftain Lapu-Lapu, ever the hero,
chased Magellan back into the water,
the only thing to love him back.
When Lapu-Lapu impaled
the first man to cross the globe,
he jammed his spear into the sand,
so the explorer would drown
before he bled to death. Five hundred
years previous, those islanders, who slaughtered
the great Ferdinand Magellan,
rode boats of their own to
Madagascar and South America, while
Spain bribed the ruling Moors
with a flat-rate supply of virgins
to postpone the Muslim invasion.
It took half a millennium for someone else to figure out the Pacific.
Adventure
Explorer of the world, Magellan sailed
his Victoria across the planet’s everywhere,
Rabban beard crisp from the absorption
of salt water. Seeking a path to
the spice islands of Indonesia,
he camped in a smaller archipelago,
of only seven thousand islands. Drunk,
Spain’s adopted son declared the Sugboanons
servants of God and Spain, worse,
pronounced the people of Mactan enemies
of the Church. Ferdinand began his crusade
two weeks later, exacting holy terror
shaped as axes, swords, crossbows, guns
and cannons – all the marshmallows in
16th century lucky charms: Catholic edition.
Boats and artillery left behind
because of rocky waters, Magellan and his top
fifty favorite Spaniards stormed the Mactan
beach to find one thousand five hundred
infidels chilling, their kampilan, spears and poison
arrows rising slowly before they burned
down the wind, suffocating the Westerners
with a rice and fish diet
and a grand putang ina mo.
Filipinos always had great appetites.
Chieftain Lapu-Lapu, ever the hero,
chased Magellan back into the water,
the only thing to love him back.
When Lapu-Lapu impaled
the first man to cross the globe,
he jammed his spear into the sand,
so the explorer would drown
before he bled to death. Five hundred
years previous, those islanders, who slaughtered
the great Ferdinand Magellan,
rode boats of their own to
Madagascar and South America, while
Spain bribed the ruling Moors
with a flat-rate supply of virgins
to postpone the Muslim invasion.
It took half a millennium for someone else to figure out the Pacific.
like
Adventure,
Lapu-Lapu,
Magellan,
Previously Written
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Jazz
"Tigers are so BADASS," she marveled,
"if I were an animal I would fuck one, no question."
The two half tons of feline muscle glanced at her
before they returned to pacing
and licking their chops at the baby goat
next-cage neighbors.
"If you were a tiger--"
"If I was any animal at all."
"People are--"
"If I was a chimp. Or a magic carpet."
"That's some Aladdin shit."
"I know RIGHT!?"
#3
Hello my lovelies. I am Pepe and this will be my third attempt at blogging.
This time I will be better because I cannot escape poetry. Is it because poetry is my escape?
Peps
This time I will be better because I cannot escape poetry. Is it because poetry is my escape?
Peps
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)