Ha-ha! The Wolf is Back!

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

A Musical Nightmare called Everyday Life
A poem by Wolf Larsen

Millions & millions of Wolf Larsen's penises are growing all over the solar system
And all of the giant insects flying in outer space are
as happy as a billionaire war profiteer sitting on top of a mountain of human skulls and
Skipping dingbats sing too much yellow down the street as
The Sun in the sky turns into a big yellow testicle and
Ants are crawling through your mind while
Huge tanks are rolling out of your penis and
Flying thoughts are escaping from everyone's heads and
A huge yellow is splashing out of the canvas
and across the solar system
While the Greek gods play pool with all the planets in the Solar System
And endless hordes of screaming civilians fleeing the war zones are
The notes in a screaming jazz song that
Never ends
And then hell explodes out of the ground
And the devil jumps in bed with your wife and
Nine months later your wife gives birth to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and
Your child is a symphony orchestra of insects that
Sing all night long under a moon that keeps falling out of the sky
And
Huge blue erupts from your thoughts and and all over the canvas
While all the yellow background screams to all the fish swimming through this poem and
All the red in your head is bleeding out of your imagination and onto the canvas and
The canvas stares back at you with thousands of crazy eyeballs eating through you
and your daily life is a prison cell of endless work and the subway and a rented room and endless bills
And then a bunch of poetry starts crashing through the walls
And you create poetry all over the canvases with a paintbrush
And you ejaculate the poetry all over the music with a saxophone
and you run out into the streets naked to be one with the poetry…

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

How to Eat Human Feces!
A poem by Wolf Larsen

Our belly buttons begin loudly prophesizing of the day when Elliott Carter will come back from the dead and conquer the planet Earth with the New York City subway system!
And then Kubla Khan comes down from the sky on a flyyying surfboard!
And Kubla Khan announces that Elliot Carter shall be worshipped as the Purple & Pink Goddess of the Classical Music in all of Our Genitals!
And all the mermaids are jumping out of the oceans and into this poem!
And now the reader is swimming with thousands of beautiful mermaids in this poem!
And all the birds that live in our genitalia begin singing!
And huge everything happens!
As all the kings & queens go back to living in their trailer parks
And the transgender Nancy Reagan clones with huge penises begin creating giant palaces floating in the sky!
As the gods of marijuana speak of lesser evil politics to all the rabbits hopping in our heads!
And all of the thousands of Kubla Khans in pink dresses
Are dancing to the rhythms of the rabbits hopping in our heads!
As the German Shepherds in sexy pink lingerie fly giant ladybugs Into this poem!
And huge forests of marijuana are growing out of this poem!
And then the captain of the nuclear submarine begins conducting the poem!
And the captain of the nuclear submarine is none other than Captain Crunch of your favorite childhood breakfast cereal, which you ate as the air raid sirens played World War 3 accompanied by the loud disco music being played by your neighbor and the moaning opera music being sung by the 10,000 clones of your wife having sex with God, and God is impregnating the 10,000 clones of your wife with as much abStract-eXpResSionisT-diSco-daNciNg as any Koala bear can find, meanwhile,,, millions of birds are flying out of your penis and fertilizing the Earth with Jimi Hendrix songs, and then the reader ejaculates all over the poem and walks away...

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

From the Wolf Larsen Poetry Channel:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEhfPhfiQWs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KEhfPhfiQWs

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

Wolf Larsen Conducting the Symphony of the Guillotine at the New York Philharmonic
A poem by Wolf Larsen

I am the revolution of Wolf Larsen!
I am constantly overthrowing myself!
I am building my poetry with your excrement!
I'm building my poetry with mountains of dead bodies!
And the mountains of dead bodies talk to me!
They talk to me of Alfred Scnittke creating fauvist paintings with his music!
Meanwhile, I Wolf Larsen compose the Symphony of the Guillotine!
In the music The Guillotine sings like The Liberation of Humankind!
Some people embrace trees -
I embrace the guillotine!
I am the Robespierre of poetry!
I am the Spartacus of painting!
I pull out this Giant Paintbrush rising out of My Crotch
and My Paintbrush urinates the Great Philosophy of Wolf Larsenism all over your
Minimalist-constipated-installation-”art”
That is nothing more than a giant toilet bowl of laughs at the art museums & galleries!
And now this poem hijacks the world!
This poem urinates creativity all over the planet!
All the animals in the zoo daNce tO mY pOetrY
That's being sung by all of the hopping kangaroos of the Evil Empire of Joy!
And the stoplights blasting red yellow & green with the beat of my poetry
Understand that I am the Messiah of All that is Bizarre!
I am the Executioner of all that is stale & musty & boring!
I am the Conductor of All Majestic Chaos Throughout the Universe!
And that's why all the politicians of both political parties eat my ***!
Because my *** taste like caviar!
Let the bourgeoisie eat my *** too!
And let god lick My Balls!
Because I am the chef of a most delicious cannibal soup!
I am so much Mozart & Beethoven & Elliott Carter stabbing and stabbing each other with music!
The Cannibal Transvestites of Transylvania build sky high sculptures of Wolf Larsen to honor Me!
And the giant sky high sculptures of Wolf Larsen stare down God!
And god falls to his feet and begs for My forgiveness!
And all my readers Kiss Me! They piss on my naked body as I shout out for more! And everyone loves to lick my feet! Now dress Me up as a woman and let Me **** your wife! Because I am so much poetry!
I am forever!

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Using surrealistic literature to create comedy - from The Wolf Larsen Comedy Channel on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1EkNNnAqrY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1EkNNnAqrY

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

Castrated Elephant Testicles Reciting Poetry All Night Long
A poem by Wolf Larsen

The trains roll in-&-out of our genital warts
And the dolphins jump out of the water and unto the thousands of moons
And the crowded streets fly off into the abyss
And the poem dances with the French Revolution
And the aristocracy & the guillotine dance together
And the common people are dancing to the rhythms of the guillotine going up-&-down
And the painters are dipping their paintbrushes into the blood flowing from the guillotine
And they're creating paintings that cause everything to howl with color
And the images jump out of the paintings and create a thousand songs
And the floating ballsacks of outer space are calling to you
While all the readers are wandering through the alleyways of the poem
And the flying phrases of poetry
Cause the planet Earth to crash into a television commercial about hemorrhoids
While our heads are floating into poems being written by space aliens
And the sky collapses from too much music
And then the poem sweeps all the solar systems away into a different universe
While our own solar system becomes trapped in a painting
That's being created from the paintbrush of 10,000 howling monkeys
And then the poem disappears into somebody else's head...

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

From my poetry channel on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ5U8np-IRY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uZ5U8np-IRY

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

Donald Trump & 535 Congressmen Having Sex with Millions of Clones of Your Mother on the Subway Train
a poem by Wolf Larsen

Giant waterfalls of beer are descending down from Jesus Christ’s anus in heaven
As all of the cartoon characters from Disney fall to their knees and watch in awe
While swans with humongous penises swim down the waterfall of beer falling from heaven...
And purple vagina airplanes are flying everywhere!
While all the delicious puppies of Asia keep chanting “Eat me! Eat me!”
Especially since 1000 sexy clones of your mother are sitting on the subway with you
As you travel to the land of millions of naked Alice in Wonderland clones
who sit on top of huge brightly-colored magical mushrooms...
And this is where they install your feet on top of your head - and they put one of your eyeballs on your testicles - and they put your other eyeball on your butt
So that you can see all the delicious music streaming out of puppies-on-plates as far as the eye can see
And one of your ears will be attached to somebody else's scrotum
So that you can hear all the blue & yellow & red in the paintings
And your other ear will be lost inside of the First Lady’s vagina
(It has something to do with impeachment) or maybe it has something to do with
Sharing delicious puppies with all of the talking 6-foot penises that
Jump out of your imagination and have dinner with you everyday,
But only if all the spermatozoa that's inside the Moon
Impregnate this poem...

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

Billions and Billions of Toilets Floating in Outer Space: a Wolf Larsen Odyssey
A poem by Wolf Larsen

I woke up this morning having to take a ****, but my toilet was upside down on the ceiling…
Suddenly, giant polar bears were riding hot air balloons floating out of my *******...
And then thousands of my heads began growing out of the walls...
And all of my heads had thousands of planets in their faces...
And on each one of those planets was a different reader standing
Amidst a sea of blood of the Native American peoples and their screams were
Reaching all the ears attached to the buttocks of all the people in the
Paintings being created by stand-up comics whose paintbrushes are flying through the air as
The air raid sirens & hamburgers are opening the legs of all the call girls who
Are doing Fortune 500 Business with all of the fat old dinosaurs in suits
But then rocketships toooook off from all our eyeballs
And suddenly all the planets turn into giant eyeballs revolving around millions
And millions of suns that are the pin balls inside of giant pinball machines being played
By space aliens with huge penises sticking out of their shoulders (instead of heads)...
But what does that have to do with masturbating to bubble gum commercials?
Particularly when the floor becomes the solar system and now all of you are falling through the solar system while your ceiling becomes your insanity so you're falling up through your insanity into the Great Symphony that's always playing inside of the collective mind of the human race
And you can't find east or west because East or West has turned into beer
And your penis is in Montana
And while your penis is in Montana she's telling you about the Raspberry Symphony of Fornification
While all the giraffes & gorillas & mountain lions riding the subway train
Are looking at you and telling you about their day at the office
And then all the Native American peoples that were never born because of the genocide
Get on the subway train with you...
And they're all telling you about the big lollipop in between your ears
So now you’re floating up to the heaven full of sea creatures
And Your Penis is giving a speech about the intellectual pubic lice of iambic pentameter
While your belly button is thinking about Fernand Leger
And Uranus is wondering when this poem is going to end ???
But your testicles are vacationing in Miami
And your feet are wandering around Wisconsin Looking for your testicles
But your feet can't find your testicles because your eyeballs are floating in the toilet bowl
That’s hanging upside down from your ceiling
That's inside of a studio apartment that's inside of a building that's growing out of Barack Obama's buttocks
Like a giant butt hair….

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

Every One of my Poems is a Grand Cathedral that Honors Myself! The Great & Eternal Me!
A poem by Wolf Larsen

I build One Great Insanity on top of another!
Until all the great gothic buildings of this planet are growing out of this poem!
And the poem is growing out of my anus!
And my anus is growing out of a tree that's
Growing out of the end of the world that's
Exploding out of a musical canvas of
Millions of jazz soloists all singing
A Cubist rendition of the Brahms Symphony of Black Dildos
Going up-&-down to the beat of a surrealistic engine
Churning out as many heart attacks as God can swallow!
And now the poem grows millions of octopus tentacles
that are feeling all of our naked bodies
That are dancing to the fauvist rhythms of Caribbean orgies
being painted by all the pigeons in the park with magical paint brushes
Given to them by all the sadomasochistic painters in hell...
Because hell is where the greatest symphonies are born!
And Heaven & Hell play a great symphony together -
The Symphony of Cheating Wives Getting Impregnated!
And the 19th century leaps up and crashes all over the audience
Like a mighty sledgehammer smashing to pieces all that came before!
Because God loves to give blowjobs in Boystown!
Because the Neo-Nazi skinheads are a plague
That must be crushed with the Sherman's Marches of our boots!
And as we hang the Klu Klux cockroaches from the trees
The birds in the trees sing gleefully of the big yellow spermatozoa in the sky
That impregnates all the world!
And the ending of the poem gets on its knees and begs the poet
To piss on all the flower beds growing in the Super Yuppie neighborhoods of Chicago!
And the great piss of the poet fertilizes the Earth!
And now begins the Catholic desire that only the naked statues of ancient Greece can satisfy...
Because while the rabbi might say I'm Jewish (something to do with my mother's maiden name)
The Catholic runs inside of me like all the splashing spermatozoa of a seminary!
Because my Catholic spermatozoa shall crash across the universe
And impregnate all the space aliens of the universe with my poetry!
And all the space aliens shall give birth to my French-Catholic-Viking progeny
Who shall conquer everything in the universe with their
Extraterrestrial phalluses thrusting in-&-out of the literary & artistic & musical worlds
Like some great Intergalactic-Sex-Machine created by the
Mad scientist poet Wolf Larsen
Whose great penis shall satisfy the Fires of Want & Need & Lust
While the poet's spermatozoa plants the seed of a new civilization
In the open-legged soil of the great planet Earth!
Amen!
All Glory to the Poet!
The Poet Wolf Larsen - who is the one & only true god!

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

A Red White & Blue Prison from Sea to Shining Sea
A poem by Wolf Larsen

I write my poems with as many penises as I can find!
I build my giant palaces with all your castrated testicles!
Because of licorice vaginas in July!
Because of all the millions of comedians in my ballsack!
Because of all the Jackson Pollock dancers creating paintings down my street!
And that's why you are my giant red lollipop!
Because you understand all the sex laughing in the rain!
Even the porn actors in the White House love a good insanity!
Because words are my spermatozoa!
And when you swallow - my words - the rain laughs with us!
And then the Sun hits the world all day long with all it's yellow!
And the plants have sex with all the yellow ejaculating from the Sun!
And the Poet ejaculates all the sun's rays across the solar system!
And god is now dripping with the Poet’s great ejaculations!
And the President of the United States of America ****ing your wife
Is as patriotic as the red white & blue dog****
Jumping out of the anuses in the middle of the politician’s faces!
And all of this red-state blue-state diarrhea-talk
Might as well be the political syphilis of a falling American Empire
that's going to take the rest of the world down with it into
World War 3
And then all the words in the poem explode into the reader's head…

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

How to Fix the World After World War 3
A poem by Wolf Larsen

Every poem is a baroque disaster!
And time is jumping out of the poem at you!
While all the greatness of my doodoo assaults the English language!
Because my DooDoo is a new god to be worshipped!
Because my DooDoo will carry you to the rainbows of the first lady's tits!
All the English professors in the universities sing the praises of My DooDoo!
Because the falling snow is the summer of meth-amphetamine-jazz!
All being played right now by the existential cannibals on the moon!
When the sun is aligned with the giant orgy of all the Walt Disney cartoon characters!
And our hands are playing ghetto Mozart masterpieces!
When Saturn is aligned with Cleopatra's penis!
And the coffee tastes like the economies on other planets collapsing into
The Museum of Pornographic Politicians located
Somewhere north of the beginning of this poem where
The wild fruits talk human languages with
18-wheeler semi trucks crashing through
Giant spermatozoa cathedrals
Being built by all the characters in a thousand different novels
Who are all spreading delicious peanut butter all over Christianity together!
And that’s why the ending of the poem is made out of homelessness…

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Here I am once again turning surrealistic literature into stand-up comedy:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jD-IAgDfqmQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jD-IAgDfqmQ

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

Some Words in the Frying Pan are Delicious!
A poem by Wolf Larsen


Last night the buildings jumped out of the hot dogs
And the automobiles drove through the phrases of poetry
And the nearly naked goddesses danced under the big testicle in the sky
While huge civilizations grew out of God's belly button
And the music was creating french fries all around us
And the fast-food workers were creating painting after painting
And the assembly line of paintings was rolling down the streets in your mind and creating huge everything!
And the streets are now falling down the sky!
And the hills are growing out of our heads!
And the Greek gods in the sky are all drunk with sex!
And a transvestite William Shakespeare serves me my Polish sausage with fries
While the corpse of the President of the United States of America is hanging from the ceiling
And while the President's corpse does sign language with his penis
All the customers in the fast food restaurant became a chorus
Singing about the sophisticated American culture of hotdogs & french fries & endless war
And the guillotine in the kitchen is now chopping off the heads of American aristocracy
And turning them into hot dogs - the most delicious hot dogs! - that are being served
To the Working Class People!
And all of the actors in the television commercials are clamoring for the end of the poem!
But all of the actors in the giant toilet bowl in the ceiling
Are explaining 1,000 years of philosophy to us
While we eat the flesh of the American aristocracy - yummy!
And the guitar player is playing Paul Cezanne's apples
And the reader is walking through the desert looking for the end of the poem
But the Poet is riding a spaceship from Boystown into a giant mountain of relish & mustard
And all of the beautiful gay men of Boystown are being recreated into neoclassical sculptures
By the fast-food workers who are all screaming for the poem to end
But somebody has mailed the Poet from Chicago to Kathmandu Nepal
And all of the imagery of Kathmandu Nepal is exploding out of a saxophone in New York City
And the A train of Manhattan full of black people going to Harlem somehow ends up in Southern Mississippi...
And all of the Democrats in white sheets in Southern Mississippi are waiting for the black people
So the black people ride a train to Chicago
But all the police in Democratic Chicago are waiting for black people in the train station…
And the cops in Chicago start doing to the black people pretty much the same thing as the Klu Klux Klan in Mississippi…
Oh, and then a white construction worker in a porta potty experiencing “privilege” as he takes a big smelly dump
Wipes his derriere with your bourgeois liberal orthodoxy...

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Meh...obviously the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind.

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

An Ode to Your Wife's Vagina
A poem by Wolf Larsen

My symphonies are written with your blood!
My blood is made out of poetry!
And my hand & My Penis together compose the greatest symphonies ever written!
Even the fish in heaven worship My Penis!
All the other poets are merely dogs
That I eat
Because dogs are delicious!
The only thing more delicious than dog is My Poetry!
Beg me to eat your dog!
Beg me to eat your house!
Beg me to sire a new poet with your wife!
Because all your wives are notes in the most decadent luscious symphony!
Everything in the world was created by My Penis!
Because My Penis is greater than god!
Because My Penis is a great & almighty sculpture!
Now let's talk about your wife's Vagina -
Your wife's great & almighty Vagina!
Your wife's Vagina is the place where the space aliens & skyscrapers create strawberry jelly together!
Your wife's Vagina is the place where wild belly buttons grow!
All the top 40 songs on the radio are dedicated to your wife's Vagina!
And at the end of your wife's Vagina is where God & the Virgin Mary & Jesus Christ hold court!
Let us create great temples all over the world dedicated to your wife's Vagina!
The entrances to your wife’s Vagina will be art nouveau songs
And inside of the great temples to your wife's Vagina will be
Art nouveau buildings stretching for as far as the eye can see…
And all of the great musicians of the world
Will be playing the most pretty art nouveau madness inside of your wife's Vagina!
Because your wife's Vagina is the temple to the Erotic Saint Goddess of Immaculate Conception!
Long live your wife's Vagina!

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Why would you copyright stuff you post on a site with a handful of readers Wolf? Saw one of your videos think you work best live. I love John Copper Clarke. I’m hoping you’ve followed his career. Have seen him live several times and fantastic. Wouldn’t read him though. Or more I have tried and it doesn’t work without the delivery. Think there is a parrallel.

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

The City of Asses
a poem by Wolf Larsen

Too many gray skies devouring my head
Somebody has stolen the Sun
The screaming babies warn of the approaching mushroom clouds
The dying people too poor for medical care become a river of corpses flowing past the horizon
And so many homeless
The rich drive by in their carriages of gold at 50 miles an hour
Their high-rise-palaces in the sky invading one working-class neighborhood after another
You practically have to rob an armored car to pay the rent
A hamburger costs 2 hours of the national minimum wage
Inside my “studio apartment” closet I write poems as wide as the Atlantic Ocean
I write with the gray ink of the sky
The spermatozoa in my ballsack giggle & laugh as I write my poems
I write my poems with my aches & pains
In this city with a new mayor nothing has changed
The old Richard Jackass Daley merely reincarnated himself as a black lesbian
And the prisons are filled with the wretched
The wretched who committed the “crime” of flying off to other planets with drugs
Or maybe the Tyrannosaurus Rexes in police uniforms planted the drugs on them
The filthy trains & buses crowded with tired people who work & work but get further & further behind on their bills
Such is the City of Asses
This city represented by the Democrats since the time of our great-grandparents
This City of Segregation
Where white & black & brown workers all stab each other with hostile glares
While the rich liberals in their highrise palaces look upon a beautiful field of blue called Lake Michigan
Those rats living in their palaces in the sky
Those cockroaches driving around in luxury automobiles
I want to leave
But my health flew away from me long ago
I'm just waiting to die in this hellhole of Two Cities
A hell for us
A heaven for those bourgeois aristocratic cockroaches

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!

A Poem I Wrote Inside My Father's Ballsack 9 Months Before I was Born
A poem by Wolf Larsen

The space aliens in your apartment are dancing to Beethoven
While I myself am composing my great Symphony of Spermatozoa
And all the cats in the street are the chorus of my symphony
And all the cats are singing thousands of Jackson Pollock clones recreating the universe over & over again with their magical paint brushes
And the belly buttons are floating out of the tuba
And thousands of vaginas are crashing out of the trumpet every second
And penises are crawling out of the saxophone
And huge eyes are floating into the sky out of the trombone
And the French horn is playing your mother at a wife-swapping party 9 months before you were born
And then the chorus of cats is replaced by a chorus of frogs
And the chorus of frogs is singing years of solitude
And the sunset crashes across the sky
And the pirate ships sail out of our mouths
and into television commercials about hemorrhoids
While the subway trains roll around the symphony
And the symphony rolls around hundreds of paintings
That are being created by the great Phallus of the Poet
Who is inspired by all the chickens dancing their way to the gallows
To the beat of the disco music farting out of President George Washington's *******
And then thousands of pelicans begin flying out of George Washington's *******
While the black slaves dance across the South
Welcoming the Union Army...

Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen

From The Wolf Larsen Poetry Channel on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfytr6d4tqE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfytr6d4tqE