Monday, May 25, 2009

Flying Male Nude

Flying Male Nude

“You did it.
What. Didn’t you.
Fuck. Fuck. No.”
—Carol Ann Duffy
“Adultery,” Mean Time

How to get beyond—Flying Male Nude
How to subvert—the classical traditions of
Male (voyeur) poet—and female muse
Ditching the Pork—illusions of Amor
As dangerous—pathetic and negated
Then paradoxically—perpetuated

Engagement with—real amorous lyrics
And alienation—how to phrase it here
In the modern—urban landscapes with
Dramatic monologue—like Browning,
T.S. Eliot and Sylvia Plath—Arielesque
Sylvia trashing—Big Daddy & Hughes

Shall we go down—the crummy Rap Sheet?
Cradle snatchers—obnoxious poets & hunters
Bad lovers, greedy capitalists—boring husbands
Whining jealous spiteful lovers—obsessives
Penis worshippers—libertine princes & devils
Naked apes—and the usual ubiquitous pigs

Fuck the roses, sheets doves—blood & pearls
Fuck the smoke, tongues—the stormy sea
Fuck the moon, the stars—the Milky Way
Give me Porky Pig, pork chops—money
Cell-phones, watches, cabs—nightclubs
Hustlers, pimps—and of course Adultery

Becoming—more & more Metrosexual
No more triumphant—postmodern pigshit
Me & my kind—androgynous sexual swine
Flying here nude—I’m transgressive
Naked as late capitalism—pig with wings
My lost twenty-first century—“dirty weekend”

Theodor Adorno—gazes at the Internet
All the hard-core sex flicks—online porno
“Is poetry possible—after You Tube Love?”
Strangers in malls—cell-phoning back home
Staring thru all the people—who don’t exist
Viagra turning aged tycoons—into errant studs

Flying nude—in the light rail stations
“This is me speaking”—I say to nobody
I’ve got a plug in my ear—talking to myself
Urban dramatic monologue—lover’s discourse
But there’s nobody home—sorry wrong number
I’m a ventriloquist pig—sitting on my own lap

I remember me—what made me different?
Before automatic oinking—took over my life
Dali’s lobster telephone—Buñuel’s slit eye?
I remember—The Exterminating Angel
The fucked-up possibilities—of urban banality
Especially fucked-up parents—like Larkin said

Fritz Lang’s Metropolis—art deco nightmare?
Littered with lovers—alienated urban cityscapes
Amorous pig-pens—oppressive hog slaughter
Late capitalism porno—constantly shitting
Parasitic techno-swinery—consumer culture
Porcine commitments—postmodern romance

Pretty soon polymorphous love—turns into what
Else but pig psychopaths—homicidal maniacs
Masculine desire—coupled with POMO predilections
Postwar military-industrial-intelligence—complexes
Medical-hospital-insurance scams—profiteering
All pigs are equal—except some pigs greedier

The World’s Husband—Viagra-fueled sex fiends
Men as pigs—better sizzling on barbeque spits
The socioerotic life of Oink—porky romances
What’s so great about it—this fake eroticism?
Preordained with perverse—Porky Pig stories?
Harlequin novel stereotypes—make me puke!!!

The same old Victorian—Epithalamion pigshit
Male sonnets full of—cream, cakes & crummy
Bouquets of the same old—wilting ratty Roses
All that male amorous desire—“Perilous Storm
Tossed Seas”—and Sidney’s “My Dear, why
Make me more of a pig—than I really am?”

Free-floating eroticism—blogged broadbanded
Flourishing erotic marvels—ensconced in the

Postmodern telecity—transgressive sex and
Cash-machine booths—beautiful models on TV
In the airports—on the subways and trains
And in the elevators—lovely oink chambers

The World’s Husband—Flying Male Nude
Me Tarzan, You Jane—I’m a working-class
Pig Man—the “purple vein” throbbing in my
Big fat neck—the purple vein slithering in
My Porky Pig—ho-hum throbbing penis
Hot Shit Pighood—“I really love you”

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