As Monty Python used to say: “And now, for something completely different . . .”
Hell is a horror is a belt is a house.
Mommy white-faced, clench-jawed, smoking dollar bills
green green angry
our rabbit-eared television
blares vacuum tube pophisses &
fingersnap jingle-jangles upon the raptured children
twixt game glows & sporting ejects
better soaps & tires, softer sheets, sparkling dishes
a fork is a fork is a fork
chow down to father. Chow down. To father. Chow
down to. father. Chow. Down. To. Father.
How now cows aflutter
vulcanized rubber sighs to do, to go, to be
gathered imbecility docility virility
conditioned by Madison Avenue to consume, to obey
gun-metal blue the guns, knives, grenades, berets
foundling war: writhing rhythms
’mongst blinkered-tinkered-sphincter’d toys
beribboned chests & broken-backed books.
O joy! O joke! O death! Deaths.
Fall silent in the nave
the grave of mind.
–Carl E. Reed
Author’s note: Gertrude Stein would not approve of this poem. It is contemptibly bourgeois and thoroughly unconvincing in the trite, commonplace sentiments it proffers as subversive and borderline anarchist; also, it is cretinously conventional in grammar and structure. Moreover, it makes too much sense; hence violates the core principle of Dada: purest pointlessness.