Friday, August 24, 2012

Ode to a Fu Manchu Choo-Choo



After the rape of Nanking
there were the first curling ringlets
of the Firestone chain; All
of Prometheus' organs
have been replaced
with high durometer
urethane; slave
biscuits come each
on Caligula's snowy shoulders.

Let them be as
bulbous luminous
harmonica hives
brimming with
Tosa mastiffs, let
television be known as
creampie, for many
slovenly figures
all go in one hole.

Tomorrow,
in the cascading
know thyself
M = (Ind, World, [.])
where Ind is the non-empty
set of individuals, World
is a non-empty set of
possible worlds, and
[.] is an interpretation
function such that

Long Fu Manchu mustaches
dangling from locomotives
are seen to be as
mandarin sleeves
fluttering, empty,
and ghost-like.

Consider this,
that the Pythia
always took
as her perfect fashion,
an ancient togaic precursor
to the common hoodie,

But Hoodia, will not be
the San people's
Indian gaming casino.

Hoodia
is not the common pygmy's
Pepi II, let this be an ode
to a Fu Manchu Choo-Choo,
and armless our peoples are one,
before the eternal gaze
of Aten, whose

Bungee nipple cords
dangle vast ganglionic
idoneities of fish-scaled
baboon postulate
Potamogeton, their
megaton squirming
uninvidious to the
shining Serenissima,
who reveled more
in their style, than
in their content, and
in their art, more than
their twin, purple-assed,
foetus-golem enema bag,
yoghurt hottub nipple,
civilizations.

epilogue:

Pygmy in a hoodie
painting plein air
in a gondola
a row of hairless
baboon vaginas
for the windows
of Saint Mark's
Basilica, which he
has depicted
'as a golden cheese'
surrounded by
tiny Canaletto mice
conversing discretely,
their long Fu Manchu
mustaches dragging
the Panglossian piazza
in a gracefully static
peripateticism.