tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15570333656389386222024-03-05T05:16:32.027-08:00Yet Another CanonChadwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02926626356382240091noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557033365638938622.post-16944210247002919052008-11-11T14:13:00.001-08:002008-11-12T12:14:31.818-08:00Celebrity Canto<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZM_U8Re1V1I0mF5N7gj9x-4I48LqJYF-kXLxAvhZtMNQbR7vtntehobVLWRAlIv7djrBANStqm-tRn8plleV7VsQFyO1dgalMhZFRBwrt_vyPJBbAl4wC-f7fHQhJx66wsFYrE5WB2g/s1600-h/Gustave+Dore+Inferno+Canto+21.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBZM_U8Re1V1I0mF5N7gj9x-4I48LqJYF-kXLxAvhZtMNQbR7vtntehobVLWRAlIv7djrBANStqm-tRn8plleV7VsQFyO1dgalMhZFRBwrt_vyPJBbAl4wC-f7fHQhJx66wsFYrE5WB2g/s200/Gustave+Dore+Inferno+Canto+21.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267865756350687570" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:11;" >This poem was originally posted <a href="http://www.itwaslost.org/2007/04/celebrity-canto.html">here</a>, but I submit it for review at the new literary canon over here.</span></span><br /></div><br /><i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /><br /></span></span></i><div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;">Let’s take a walk thru history with an American icon. </span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Sure! He collects rare shards of colored glass from Turkey & Italy,</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />And he’s written a lot of books, but who has found time to read his last one?</span></span></i><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;">Now he pauses on the Piazza, but there he goes, he runs like a century.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />He ascends a mountain of fine light, it’s all been done before in particles.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Historians will disagree about whether he was depressed at this time or pretty happy.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /><br />Meanwhile, he’s already thinking about a poem he’ll write about this walk of dangling participles.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />He has a brief adventure involving batrachian nepotism & a gutterful of shit.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Compared to the trials of Hercules he admits that he is no Hercules.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /><br />The mainstream media licks its lips thinking about every step of it.</span></span></i><br /><i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;">He considers this when he considers every step he takes.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Then, losing himself, he does a gay little dance & slips into a gooey pit.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /><br />The media quickly sidetracks & reports that his mother died in those earthquakes.</span></span></i><i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />There is an eruption of sympathy & he finds time to masturbate to an old John Ford movie.</span></span></i><i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Hark! thumps, claps, deafening huzzas! The gospel trombone & his mother awakes.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /><br />Scholars think that his imminent divorce was preoccupying his psyche,</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />But I know & you know that he was always focused on his public characterization.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />He knows he looks good in that suede suit, but it’s out of style by the time he gets to the Louvre.<br /></span></span></i><br /><i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;">His wife actually was just raising a big stink about House-Elf Emancipation.</span></span></i><br /><i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;">He was trying to bide his time by walking around the block again,</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />But the mainstream media realized they could sell more papers by popular music democratization.<br /></span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />The Chancellor of Germany sent her condolences, but sent it at the wrong time on the wrong train.</span></span></i><i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />A small press illegally publishes his letters to his mistress, & he sues them into bankruptcy:</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />They were just being opportunistic, but no need to explain.<br /></span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />His wife leaves him like a free radio blitzkrieg, but her breasts have gotten flopsy.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Now his mistress is in every magazine, but he loses her & finds ten more corseted supermodels.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />He converts to Mormonism! He jumps up & down in J. Edgar Hoover’s stilettos for all the world to see.<br /></span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />The Celebrity His Aria: I’ll condemn you all to the Ninth Circle, every last one of you pundit assholes!</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />My memoirs will be impenetrable, I’ll admit to raping half of the penitentiary!</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />How many volumes can even my most devoted enthusiast stomach? Remember the earlier puddles?</span></span></i><br /><br /><i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;">But it’s all given me some space to breathe. My ex-wife’s face was the crime of the century.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />Your televisions are all pointed North. The penguins are finally safe from your scrutiny.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />The British National Dish may be curry, but mine has gone home in a flurry.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br /><br />House Arrest! There have been worse fates for Saloth Sar & the late Sheriff’s Deputy.</span></span></i> <i><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:Garamond;"><br />I can finally database my shard collection, & the historians can rot in my impunity.</span></span></i> <br /></div>S. Sandrigonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00220829420861452109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557033365638938622.post-48649981776076131872008-10-18T00:57:00.000-07:002008-10-18T01:00:52.334-07:00In Memory of Ezra Pound, BSCWStreaks on the China.<br />Never mattered before,<br />Who cares.<br /><br />When you dropped kicked your jacket,<br />As you came through the door -<br />No One glared.<br /><br />But sometimes things get turned around<br />And no<br />One’s<br />Spared.<br /><br />All hands look out below!<br />There’s a change in the status quo.<br />Gonna need all the help that<br />we<br /> can<br /> get.<br /><br />According to our new arrival,<br />Life is more than mere survival.<br />We just might live the good life yet.trsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04841156905412232846noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1557033365638938622.post-61118500105873302182008-10-14T11:15:00.000-07:002008-10-14T11:16:27.002-07:00The Point Of This IsSo that me and my friends can establish our own literary canon. Why? Because we can.Chadwickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02926626356382240091noreply@blogger.com1