Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Wabi Sabi Girl # 2: A Story of Dirty Words I've Taught My Computer

*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

Your sister warned me about you, you selfish bastard, your self absorption, your utter narcissism, which is really your expression of oedipalistic self loathing isn't it?  Isn't it? But I dismissed it because you were so strange and I always think that under the strange or the exotic some wounded wisdom will be discovered and because you were a poet, or something that looked like one, and an exotic creature and the New Yorker’d published one of your poems as any mediocrity might get hit by lightning once in his idiot life - that one time I felt as though I were in the company of some kind of glory.  You’re only one out of a long line of failed gods.  

Oh!  And also -You have no grasp of trochaic meter and your poems suck.  That’s right.  Now I've said it.  Somebody has to tell you.  

Oh!  And also, I mean like really, that docked pentamic line in the second stanza about self contradiction?  You stole that from Whitman you fucking fake.  If the people at the New Yorker weren't such over rated, under educated morons they’d have caught your plagiarizing ass, fuck yes.  The next time you steal, stay away from dear old Uncle Walt.  

I swear to Jesus I will rat you out. Truth alone is sacred. Truth will always triumph over the great lie!  
*Blick*

*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

I have value you smug shit!  I am a human being!  The modern woman refuses to be erased!
*Blick*

*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

Or deleted!
*Blick*

*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

My voracious clitoris refuses to be tamed!
*Blick*

*Beep*
Hi there!  June bug here, please leave a message describing the intrinsic contradiction of man’s existential peril in a world of moral relativism and if I think you’re interesting I might call you back.”
 *Beep*

Junie, listen, its Henry.  I know you’re there, okay?  If you weren’t such a physical coward you’d pick up.  Am I totally right? Listen Junie, I think I’m dying.  

You’re not a human woman, You’re a succubus, some tentacled lamia that’s poisoned me against all other women, but like a martyr of love I move inside you still. Junie I want you.  What I want . . . How can I say it . . . I think . . . what I really want is to . . . to . . . 
*Blick*


*Beep*
Hi there!  June bug here, please leave a message describing the intrinsic contradiction of man’s existential peril in a world of moral relativism and if I think you’re interesting I might call you back.”
*Beep*

Junie!
I want to lick my cream off
your blue waffle
Roll a tongue sandwich in
your meat muffin,  
Why you have to be so mean?
Here’s a stud wants to do your do
Wants to suck your sugar bean 
Suck it tight
Suck it all night
like a snake bite
Suck that poison right out of you
suck you squeal suck you grunt 
Put you in your place
While I wear your cunt
Glued on my face 
like a ham wallet gas mask.
*Blick*


*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

You want to jam
Your limp little spear 
up my rear?  Dear? 
That little dinkie you call a winkie? Huh?
You think you got the juice
To do my deuce
baby- baby- baby 
Spout that hot load of baby gravy
Like your prick, some kinda Moby Dick?  
like I’m gonna suck that snail?
Make you wail- 
Thar She blows!  She blows!
Fuck no!
*Blick*


*Beep*
Hi there!  June bug here, please leave a message unless you're Henry Lutz who has a little tiny dick maybe the size of a Gherkin pickle!  I've seen it!
  *Beep*

Even the moonlight
searches the cold seaward waves
lost Whisker Biscuit

*Blick*


*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

Heat, you'll never touch
Stars licking blood desert moon
Camel Toe Soufflé.

*Blick*


*Beep*

Hi there!  June bug here, please leave a message unless you’re Henry Lutz who cries like a baby when he comes - Boo hoo hoo!  Mommy! I made sticky!  Boo hoo hoo! I’m sorry mommy! Waaahh!
 *Beep*

My kiss will stop the silly things you say
My Yogurt Slinger will yet thrill your spine
I’ll lightly lick your Camel Toe Soufflé

Yes, I confess, this once my doodle went astray
In her bed, those condoms were all mine.
My kiss will stop the silly things you say.

Love thee?  Aye - Let me count the Vay Jay Jays- 
I would stuff your Sausage Hole’s Winkling Eye
I’ll lightly lick your Camel Toe Soufflé.

How I miss my Salami’s Hide Away
And how I miss your Bearded Beaver Pie
My kiss will stop the silly things you say

My Enchilada of Love swells and craves
To shoot my choot in your Hot Taco Pie
I’ll lightly lick your Camel Toe Soufflé 

For what it’s worth, your mom’s a lousy lay
She doesn’t move, she just won’t come, that’s why
My kiss will stop the silly things you say.
I’ll lightly lick your Camel Toe Soufflé.
*Blick*


*Beep*
Hello, this is Henry Lutz, please leave a message.
*Beep*

Oh my god Henry. 

Promise me, promise me you’ll never do that ever again.

Not just don’t fuck my mom behind my back anymore, but I mean don’t write these villainous villanelles.  I think you've lobotomized the right side of my brain. It hurts. I’m damaged.  I’m ruined.  Promise you won’t give that poem to the CIA for a torture weapon.  It’s too cruel.  God will smite you for this.

Okay, let’s meet.  Starbucks.  In the mall.

And wear knee pads, you bastard.

*Blick*       

10 comments:

  1. I am speechless with admiration.

    (But maybe you shouldn't mention the CIA in our blog posts...!)

    [Applause]

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh. Speechless. That's not good. Anyway, at least I've learned a new poetry form out of it. I'll take another swing at it someday and get it right.

    It's funny, with all the weird scatalogical terms in here the only word we fear is THAT one. We live in strange times. Is it 1984 already?

    Garce

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bravo!

    I was hoping that tapioca would make its way into the feast, but I can see that yogurt was easier to fit into a Villanelle line.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Another post that could only be written by you, Garce. Amazing.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Hi Sacchi
    my tapioca slinger . . . no. The syllables don't match up. I'd have to drop a word "My tapioca slinger thrill your spine . . ." can't fix it.

    I have noticed however that if you break up the meter and phrasing a certain way you can sing it out loud to the tune of the Mickey Mouse Club anthem, which is fun when you're taking a shower as long as nobody listens to you.

    CAM el TOE souf FLE! Micke- ey Mouse . .

    Garce

    ReplyDelete
  6. Hi Jean!

    Is that good or bad? Good I hope.

    Garce

    ReplyDelete
  7. Oh Garce-
    You say the nicest things.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I think I just spit my coffee through my nose! Very interesting exchange, Garce. You have such a way with words...any words, apparently!

    ReplyDelete