The Waste Sign
A Parody of "The Waste Land" - II
II. A losing game of marbles
The master sits, Like a vomit toilet
Glowed on the porcelain where the ass
Did not touch the standards wrought at the other end
From which the master peed and pooped
( from behind his shaven head)
And on his skin the Inc. of seven-branched -candishdebacle
Reflected on the midnight that poured over URLs
With the glittering sheen of our opinion
Making sows ears out of a rich satin profusion:
In files of excrement and rabid Paris
UnStoppard, because Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead
Ungent the powered liquid profanes the bleeding news
Of how the Butler became the King for a Day, ascended
In the flattering of Crystal Palace troubled and confused,
The Drowning Man says there is peace and then steps down,
During on the blood-soaked ceiling,
The call that he made, made flesh
And then comes out the splatter gods
With huge trays of copper made with seawood
of crime is the name. By any other.
and which is sad light the dolphin cavalcade,
for the land which was not to be.
Below the antique Mantel on display,
Though a window shined on Sylvan Learning guaranteed
Nearflung their soot into fungi Laquearia
Stuttering the hopscotch rudely patterned
Though given they're to Nightingale, awake
Filling all the Meadows and inviolable violence.
And still, she cried and the world looked on in selfie.
Junker to a dirty ear
And with their withered stumps of leg,
For a war that never should have been.
Though the twisted lumps were written on the wall.
Leaping out, leaping over, with hushed pentacle hallways
With catering clashing the stairs
Glowed into war, whose fighting would be savagely still.
“Speak memory for it is what I do not wish to have,
Think though I do not wish you to cogitate,
Thinking thoughts I do not wish you to think.
Why do I never know what you are thinking? Think.”
I think we are in asses alley
Where the dead men lost their jones
( with a side of Smith and Wesson)
What is the fireworks?
The wind wishing passed the receptacle
Where is that noise now? What is the fart passing by?
Anything for anything
Because one wishes to not be jailed,
And the other wishes to halve his age.
Do they not know anything?
Nothing at all except how to stand on stage and be copied into oblivion.
Nothing.
I disremember
All the pearls stuttering sump the Wugly-ump,
The things that were not alive to be alive,
But
O-O-O-O the Hamiltonian rag,
It’s so disgraceful
And unintelligent
It must be a hit on Broadway.
“What shall I do now when the present is over?”
Should I Rush the band, the faux-news announcer, the actor?”
The hairstyle has changed and not just for the season,
The circus has come to town
Shall we play a game of chess?
With mumbly pegs and derring-do?
Waiting with lidless eyes for a rapture on the door.
When my husband got demugged and delighted, I said –
At least he did not demince his vowels
HURRY UP PLEASE ITS OVER TIME
The score is even negative to negative
And every fan chooses who to win.
And it will be not for want of telling,
If the scores splay out into Gödelian.
Some will have teeth, and others will have anus,
So the score will be 10 to keep them all dishappy and disused.
Take the pills take them all,
( though she had four years of both and did not like them at all)
But the druggist said it would be fine,
Just some slight complications in the Constitution,
And who reads that?
HER YUP PLEASE IT’S TIME
It is Sunday time for the funnies
If the funnies run blood red, that’s the beauty of it
HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME
Good night Bill, good night Barack, and definitely good night to Donald,
( I wish my brother George were here)
Your time is over,
Good night, ladies, good night, foul victims, good night, good night.