"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
I think it important, that in order to go forward, we must also look back to the origins of poetry. Thus, whereas Wolf has graciously bestowed his cutting-edge talents upon Lit Net readers, it is essential we examine the very historical roots from which they have evolved.
Therefore, I take you back to the early Greek epic—that is, poetry as a natural and popular, and not (as it became later) an artificial and academic literary form—passed through the usual three phases, of development, of maturity, and of decline.
No fragments which can be identified as belonging to the first period survive to give us even a general idea of the history of the earliest epic, and we are therefore thrown back upon the evidence of analogy from other forms of literature and of inference from the two great epics which have come down to us. So reconstructed, the earliest period appears to us as a time of slow development in which the characteristic epic metre, diction, and structure grew up slowly from crude elements and were improved until the verge of maturity was reached.
The second period, which produced the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey", needs no description here: but it is very important to observe the effect of these poems on the course of post-Homeric epic. As the supreme perfection and universality of the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey" cast into oblivion whatever pre-Homeric poets had essayed, so these same qualities exercised a paralyzing influence over the successors of Homer. If they continued to sing like their great predecessor of romantic themes, they were drawn as by a kind of magnetic attraction into the Homeric style and manner of treatment, and became mere echoes of the Homeric voice: in a word, Homer had so completely exhausted the epic genre, that after him further efforts were doomed to be merely conventional. Only the rare and exceptional genius of Vergil and Milton could use the Homeric medium without loss of individuality: and this quality none of the later epic poets seem to have possessed.
In its third period, therefore, epic poetry shows two divergent tendencies. In Ionia and the islands, the epic poets followed the Homeric tradition, singing of romantic subjects in the now stereotyped heroic style, and showing originality only in their choice of legends hitherto neglected or summarily and imperfectly treated. In continental Greece, on the other hand, a new form of epic sprang up, which for the romance and pathos of the Ionian School substituted the practical and matter-of-fact. It dealt in moral and practical maxims, in information on technical subjects which are of service in daily life—agriculture, astronomy, augury, and the calendar—in matters of religion and in tracing the genealogies of men. Its attitude is summed up in the words of the Muses to the writer of the "Theogony":
“We can tell many a feigned tale to look like truth, but we can, when we will, utter the truth”
Such a poetry could not be permanently successful, because the subjects of which it treats were certainly not suited for epic treatment, where unity of action which will sustain interest, and to which each part should contribute, is absolutely necessary. While, therefore, an epic like the "Odyssey" is an organism and dramatic in structure, a work such as the "Theogony" is a merely artificial collocation of facts, and, at best, a pageant. It is not surprising, therefore, to find that from the first, the Boeotian school is forced to season its matter with romantic episodes, and that later it tends more and more to revert (as in the "Shield of Heracles") to the Homeric tradition.
At this juncture we must ask ourselves, “How did the continental school of epic poetry arise?” The probability is that there were at least three contributory causes. First, it is likely that before the rise of the Ionian epos there existed in Boeotia a purely popular and indigenous poetry of a crude form: it comprised, we may suppose, versified proverbs and precepts relating to life in general, agricultural maxims, weather-lore, and the like. In this sense the Boeotian poetry may be taken to have its germ in maxims similar to our English.
'A rainbow in the morning Is the Shepherd's warning.'
Secondly and thirdly we may ascribe the rise of the new epic to the nature of the Boeotian people and, as already remarked, to a spirit of revolt against the old epic. The Boeotians, people of the class of which Hesiod represents himself to be the type, were essentially unromantic; their daily needs marked the general limit of their ideals, and, as a class, they cared little for works of fancy, for pathos, or for fine thought as such. To a people of this nature the Homeric epos would be inacceptable, and the post-Homeric epic, with its conventional atmosphere, its trite and hackneyed diction, and its insincere sentiment, would be anathema. We can imagine, therefore, that among such folk a settler, of Aeolic origin like Hesiod, who clearly was well acquainted with the Ionian epos, would naturally see that the only outlet for his gifts lay in applying epic poetry to new themes acceptable to his hearers.
As an appetizer, this is an extract from Hesiod’s “Theogony.”
“From the Heliconian Muses let us begin to sing, who hold the great and holy mount of Helicon, and dance on soft feet about the deep-blue spring and the altar of the almighty son of Cronos, and, when they have washed their tender bodies in Permessus or in the Horse's Spring or Olmeius, make their fair, lovely dances upon highest Helicon and move with vigorous feet. Thence they arise and go abroad by night, veiled in thick mist, and utter their song with lovely voice, praising Zeus the aegis-holder and queenly Hera of Argos who walks on golden sandals and the daughter of Zeus the aegis-holder bright-eyed Athene, and Phoebus Apollo, and Artemis who delights in arrows, and Poseidon the earth-holder who shakes the earth, and reverend Themis and quick-glancing Aphrodite, and Hebe with the crown of gold, and fair Dione, Leto, Iapetus, and Cronos the crafty counsellor, Eos and great Helius and bright Selene, Earth too, and great Oceanus, and dark Night, and the holy race of all the other deathless ones that are forever. And one day they taught Hesiod glorious song while he was shepherding his lambs under holy Helicon, and this word first the goddesses said to me—the Muses of Olympus, daughters of Zeus who holds the aegis.”
Thanks Manichaen I'll be sure to read your comment tomorrow when I have time. I'm about to go do some amateur stand-up comedy.
A new poem:
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
Smoking a Blunt with God
a poem by Wolf Larsen
A tidal wave of sexy naked mannequins are
Headed straight at you as
Thousands of exotic zoo animals scream psychedelic-manic-advertising at you while
All the birds grab guns and point them at their own heads as
They sing their beautiful morning schizophrenia to you on
Another planet where giant apples with legs & huge mouths are
Eating dozens of your clones that
Are all reciting their poems at the grave of Richard Nixon who
Suddenly jumps out of his own grave dressed as a transvestite god with
5 blue faces all growing out of his buttocks and
All of the mouths in Richard Nixon's 5 blue faces are
Singing William Wordsworth's poems at you while
You masturbate nuclear submarines & aircraft carriers into
Your delicious lunch which
Tastes like ravioli with human blood & human-meat-meatballs under
A roof painted with homorotic Italian cuisine by
A naked mikelangelo smoking crack-cocaine under
Thousands of Chicago moons on
A night of premature ejaculation symphonies all
being sung by the hopping kangaroos fleeing massive wildfires in
The Australia that's inside of your dog's testicles which are
Bouncing up-&-down to the beat of your neighbor beating on the walls as
He screams giant spermatozoa poetry at all of the neon prostitutes flying
Out of the paintings at the Louvre which is
Floating past your favorite McDonald's that's floating in the Pacific Ocean that's
Waterfalling out of a painting that's being created by a transvestite god called
Richard Nixon at the graveyard of happy space aliens located
Under the subway tracks that are rolling over
Billions of human Graves
After the mushroom clouds
Have song the final song of the human race
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Thank you Manichaean. I had a chance to read what you posted, and it was very interesting and informative.
Okay, more poetry:
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
The Virgin Mary Eating Out the First Lady of the United States
A poem by Wolf Larsen
So I'm having anal sex with all of the men in The Iliad & The Odyssey
in a feast of happy - homicidal - Blue Sky
While the hordes of homeless Greek Gods on Chicago’s city streets are all having sex
With all the blow up dolls that I keep in the attic as the
Heroin musicians play all the Kubla Khan cannibals on roller skates rolling up-and-down
The alleyway in back of your house and your house is
Floating above a pack of horny four-legged dogs all hooowling to have sex with your wife while
The heroin musicians now begin playing the First Lady having sex with floating lollipops and
Thousands of erect penises that is the music is the
Very reason that day & night are kissing each other under
All of the flying automobiles flying out of your ears & mouth while you
Touch your naked body with as much leprosy as you can find as the
Middle Ages & the 21st century f*** each other into a
Shakespearean - crack- cocaine - delirium being sung by
All the Republicrat & Demopublican politicians that you're picking out of your nose and
Huge - genital - space stations in the Bible is
Why we can't even find all the thousands of belly buttons giggling
In this poem
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=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 Make Love to Other Species
A poem by Wolf Larsen
A giant symphony jumps out of the toilet
And flies you off into the universe
And now you're flying through a universe of psychotic bright colors
All made out of the spermatozoa
That jumped out of the transsexual Statue of Liberty's ballsack
And now the Cannibal Concerto in Death Minor
Is being played by giant pineapples & oranges & watermelons with legs & arms
In an Orchestra Hall located inside of Charles Manson’s head
That’s growing in a field on one of God's millions of testicles
That are floating in a piece of installation art
At the prestigious Museum of Mass Shootings
Located inside of a McDonald's restaurant
That's inside of Uncle Sam's anus
On a rainy day when the poem becomes forever
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Poetic License on How to Make Love to Other Species
... derived from a poem by Wolf Larsen
A giant symphony reminiscent of Holsthurtles out of a public toilet -jerking you into the universe,a universe of psychotic bright coloursmade of kaleidoscopic Paisley prints -spermatozoa whose origin sprang fromthe trans-gendered Lady Liberty's scrotum
The second movement begins inside anOrchestral Hall located insideCharlie Manson’s skull; a skull sown ina fallow field by an issue of God -A Cannibalistic Concerto in Death Minoris played by a cabal of giant pineapples &oranges & watermelons with splayed legsand arms askew; a fugue for the segue to come
Floating in a piece of installation arttranscending time and space at the prestigiousMuseum of Mass Shootings located convenientlyinside a McDonald's restaurant that residesin Uncle Sam's anus: We are the star child...
Fertile
it's a rainy daythe music becomes a poembecomes forever
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7-8-2015
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
The Great Big Giant Know Where of Everyone’s Lives
A poem by Wolf Larsen
All the musical toilets of the world are singing your song
While 8,000 Michael Jackson clones dance around you
As you sit on a toilet in a painting at the Louvre while the crowds of tourists watch
You in the painting ****ing Demopublican & Republicrat political speeches into the airwaves
But then the music turns left at the street corner and suddenly
The dreams of 1960s psychedelic space aliens
Are touching you with exotic languages all over your naked body
And one nuclear submarine after another is entering the giant vagina in the sky
Because only the Flying Squirrels in Baroque masterpiece paintings
Understand us, they understand the endless noisy hallways running
Through this poem, I mean after all inside of each one of the eggs on the supermarket shelves
Is a different Universe of S&M factories where the sexy naked space aliens
whip each other with Blue Sky,
Blue Sky being the place where
All your transvestite George Washington love dolls build
Endless tropical planets that float through the air in your apartment
While giant Shakespearean dildos with legs recite the
Decapitated bourgeois heads on pikes being paraded through the streets of the world
After the happy Guillotine Shakespearean plays performed with anal sex porn actors
And then I drink the vagina juices out of political speeches
And I touch the poems with as much sex as
A polar bear jacking off to the presidential elections
And the poem ends in a big splash of spermatozoa
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
Surrealistic literature as comedy:
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
This is a prose poem. There are no line breaks.
How to Play the Clarinet After World War 3
A poem by Wolf Larsen
In a public hospital in a third world country naked zombies run up & down the hallways playing tuberculosis & jazz while the flamingos hang upside down from the ceilings and recite the alphabet in a McDonald’s language and all the light bulbs in the ceiling sing genital warts to you and the guests visiting the patients are all presidents of foreign nations on other planets and the guests are all reciting hemorroids out of their mouths while they do the hubba hubba with their hands and then the ceiling disappears to reveal a sky full of masturbating orangutans dressed up as angels and the floor disappears to reveal 10,000 levels of hell and all of the devils from hell climb up into the public hospital and now they’re running up & down the hallways with the naked zombies and that's when all the patients get up from their beds and begin dancing Hiroshima & Nagasaki with all of the nurses and giant vaginas are floating up into the air from under the skirts of the nurses and all of the vaginas floating in the air are hissing & hissing and then everybody's penises begin growing out of their crotches and all of the penises are hissing & hissing and Abraham Lincoln is there playing the drums and the King of the Zulu tribe in Africa is on vocals singing ketchup & mustard and then all of the devils & the zombies begin eating each other while the patients & nurses begin urinating on each other in erotic Joy and then giant worshipping Idols of my high school classmate R Kelly are placed at the end of each hallway and all the zombies & devils begin worshipping R Kelly while they **** each other out of their buttholes and then everybody's buttholes begin singing classical rock music 24 hours a day 7 days a week while everyone eats nuclear missiles for breakfast lunch & dinner and then the Pillsbury Doughboy begins giving God a blowjob and the wind carries the planet Earth away...
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
This is a prose poem. There are no line breaks.
Poem Title: White Sheets Covering Police Uniforms When the Democrats Controlled the South and the Black People Didn't Have Guns to Defend Themselves from the Klu Klux Kockroaches because of Gun Control Laws Passed by the Democrats but What Does that have to Do with Drinking Beer with Cannibalistic Zombies on a Saturday Night with Transvestite Hooker Space Aliens and McDonald's Hamburgers Flying thooough the Air?? Ooohhh Yuuuum Delicious??
A poem by Wolf Larsen
I woke up this morning and my Dick was an Eiffel Tower hanging upside down from the ceiling - and my Eiffel Tower Penis was ejaculating impressionism all
over the viewers of this poem - and 6 billion people on the streets of the world are watching my Eiffel Tower Penis ejaculating impressionism all over them -
and now there’s 100 clones of me in my rented room all chanting “LET’S ALL **** EACH OTHER NOW! LET’S ALL **** EACH OTHER NOW!! LET’S ALL ****
EACH OTHER NOW!!! - and that’s when my hands started playing classical music with god's Penis - and my hands & god’s Penis are now creating a Handel baroque concerto inside the Holy Church of the Virgin Mary’s Pussy - (don’t churches feel like giant vaginas?) - and then Goofy the cartoon dog started humping my mother while I watched - and Goofy the dog while he humped my mother was explaining philosophy to me - and Goofy's lecture about philosophy while he humped my mother was absolutely fascinating!! - and it was so fascinating that Alaska floated off the planet Earth and into one of Salvador Dali's paintings - (Salvador Dali never really died, he just moved to the planet Pluto where he paints all of the classical music you hear on the radio) - and of course all the 10,000 Republicrat & Demopublican madmen you hear all screaming on the radio are all part of some BroadwaY-hip-hOp-raP-Musical that was choreographed by the same people that designed the Boeing 737 Max airplane - so now all of us the poet & the readers we're all riding on a Boeing 737 Max airplane from this poem into one of Salvador Dali's paintings - and on the way we discover turbulence and somehow wind up flying into Donald Trump's Anus - inside of Donald Trump's Anus is of course all of the classical music that you can eat!! - especially on crack cocaine Thursdays - crack cocaine Thursdays are when the conductor of the symphony orchestra (who is a crackhead) conducts the orchestra into the Land of Hundreds of Giant Toilets! - especially when you get some high ceilings & exposed brick & superb interior decorating with your favorite war - yiippeee!! - so don't forget to support the troops while you sing the national anthem before a football game - especially if the football game is between a bunch of naked Martians and some crack-cocaine addicts dressed up as colorful high-heeled hookers - because that's what football & the national anthem & crack-cocaine hookers in high heels are all about - it's all about the drone strikes and the poetry and the hamburger and fries with a dessert of mushroom clouds up the nose - because clearly your belly buttons do not belong to you all! - they belong to the doo-doo in the alleyway from the ever-increasing hordes of homeless people - so everyone please hang your testicles from the flagpole with the red white & blue toilet paper proudly waving in the air and praise the lord for “white privilege” on $7.25 an hour and place your penis in the overhead compartment as we fly off into the beautiful skies of Iran on this highly advanced piece of equipment called a Boeing 737 Max while the Iranians & Americans shoot giant spermatozoa flyyying through the sky at each other, oh, yeah, would you like some animal rights with that? Don’t be wearing fur to the war!! Oh God I’m so horny for some non-GMO loco-ly sourced responsibly grown Whole Foods because “unions are herpes”! Me so very very horny for some Whole Foods!!! Beep-beep!!
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
From my poetry channel on YouTube:
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
10 Trillion Albert Einsteins in My BallSack Waiting for You!
A Poem by Wolf Larsen
All the blue in this poem is flirting with a painting!
All the words in this poem are swimming into you!
And now your stomach & your bootyhole is filled with all the squirming words of poetry
That sleep with you and dream with you and ejaculate with you
Because war & ejaculations are always!
And the red in this poem is dedicated to you!
With your 3,000 scrotums lining the walls
Of the local Museum of Trench Digging Through Other People's Brains
Because other people's brains are the macaroni & cheese of Blues music
Because the music is where the floating vaginas are!
Because all the thousands of floating vaginas inside the music
Scare all the people into having three faces each!
It's sort of like royal weddings with diarrhea analysis from news media commentators
While the soldiers jump out of your ears and conquer the bathroom
Because all bathrooms throughout the world have to be conquered by the United States Army!
Especially when the weather outside is plastic love dolls flying through the air!
And what about the Great Phalluses of all of the Greek Gods of the Trailer Parks? -
The trailer parks of antiquity!
Where six packs of beer on a Saturday Night create thousands of civilizations in our minds...
And the famous chef Julia Child jumps out of the poem and declares that
It’s time to Eat Out at the Queen of England’s 90 year old vagina!
And the asses & elephants (politicians) jump out of the poem and declare that
The War on Belgium or Iran or Mars or Russia or China or Timbuktu
Will protect America from your dog licking his balls...
And then the poem swallows the planet earth!
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
Watching Poetry Videos of Immaculate Conception Theater while My Right Hand Creates Art with the Giant Writing Instrument Between my Legs
A poem by Wolf Larsen
Inside of the world's greatest & biggest butthole
Is where poetry is born!
Because poetry is the greatest of all majestic farts!
Poetry is the greatest fart of all mankind!
And a poet writes his Grand Poetry inside of a humongous toilet bowl of exquisite taste!
Because this is the Land of a Thousand Humongous Toilet Bowls!
Where poets turn words into the most scatological sculptures of art!
Poetry is where words become gigantic lizards!
Because all poets are gigantic lizards!
And the grand fantasies of words that they create
Are the high art of McDonald's Big Macs rolling down the lines of a poem
Because all poems should be written on the most grandiose toilet paper!
And when I read a prestigious toilet paper roll of poetry
I simply have to ejaculate all over the public toilet
Because all my ejaculations are poetry!
And I always leave my white gooey poetry in the public toilet for the next person to see!
And they graciously thank the poet for leaving behind the gooey white mess of poetry!
And then they dip their fingers into my white gooey poetry
And taste the delicious kingdom of my words!
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
The Poet Sitting on His Throne of Human Skulls Judging the Human Race
A poem by Wolf Larsen
While the corpse of god hangs from the ceiling
I sit on my Throne of Human Skulls
And I drink God's Fantastic Piss out of cans of Budweiser
While I recite the poetry of American bombs falling from the sky all over civilians
Then the birds in the sky sing giant sky-high flowers growing out of all of our buttholes
And all the people jump out of the pictures & paintings in the museums
And all these people are now thronging around me on My Throne of Human Skulls
And they All SHOUT huge praise to the mountain of used toilet paper called Washington DC
And I Wolf Larsen am proclaimed the Sultan of the Human Imagination
While around me fly giant insects from Salvador Dali's imagination
And the Greek Gods parachute out of the sky
And the Greek Gods gather around me and pull out their green & blue phalluses
And honor Me by peeing on Me as they recite all the huge everything that I am becoming!
And the poetry jumps out of my anus and flies around the room
And suddenly the walls of the room are filled with the giant words of poetry that are
Flying around the walls of the room in English & Arabic & Spanish
And suddenly everyone is living inside of the poem
And everyone is dying inside of the poem
And everyone is fornicating inside of the poem
Inside of the poem is endless generations of human fornification
Inside of the poem is endless generations of human struggle
Being told by the words that are flying around-&-around the walls of the room
And suddenly the reader is swallowed by the poem
And suddenly the reader becomes the poem
And suddenly the reader is crashing about in thousands of different directions
The reader is now simultaneously flying through all the different galaxies inside the poem
The reader is now a cubist painting as large as the universe
The reader is now flying around-&-around himself
The reader sees millions of himselfs all flying around him
No more then the phrases of poetry are born inside the reader's head
Then the phrases of poetry are flying in all directions throughout the Universe
And then the reader dies
But the reader keeps living inside of the poem...
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
Rebuild America with Bipartisan Washington DC Diarrhea!
Brought to You by Charmin Ultra Soft Toilet Paper!
A poem by Wolf Larsen
I arrive at the art gallery opening Gala celebration
And I observe bourgeois pigs & their anorexic call-girl wives at a trough full of caviar
And then I pull out my paintbrush-phallus and I urinate thousands of years of art all over them - yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
And then I urinate Pablo Picasso's Guernica over all the cops in America as well!
And what about my spermatozoa?! My spermatozoa has created great civilizations!
Even the smiling-swirling-skyscrapers want to be impregnated by my spermatozoa!
My spermatozoa is made out of billions of Michelangelos & Picassos & Salvador Dalis all charging up all your vaginas & buttholes!
All the dogs & cats in America love it when I ejaculate My postmodern art all over them!
Because postmodern art & literature is made out of Wolf Larsen’s spermatozoa!
Wolf Larsen’s spermatozoa is the Great Hiroshima of the art world!
The contents of my ballsack is a great boiling pot of arts & literature
Waiting to explode the great 21st century all over the face of the reader!
And suddenly all the readers turn into pink & purple leprechauns dancing to my phallus-paintbrush exploding 10 Million miles of bizarre imagery all over them!
And that is why the earth goes around the Sun - because
I am the White Trash God of literature!
And that's why all the polar bears in the zoo love Me!
Because I am all the Tangerines of Tomorrow!
And whenever all the cockroaches in the sewer call My Great Name
You know that All the 45 presidents of the United States of America will dress up as transvestite love dolls and suck me off!
And when the poem ends you will take off your clothes and
Fire up all your thousands of vibrators and blast off to
All of Salvador Dali's paintings! Because the cancer in your body loves you!
Because the Furious waves of the ocean want to drown you with love!
The nuclear bombs falling on you from the sky will give you all their love!
The approaching day of the mushroom clouds is the most delicious wedding cake the human race will ever eat!
And this next election you too can choose whether a Demopublican or Republicrat
President or a black or a white President or a woman or a male or a gay or straight President starts World War 3 is
less important than what kind of toilet paper you use to wipe your *** with!
Because I myself prefer to wipe my *** with Charmin Ultra Soft!
Charmin Ultra Soft - the official toilet paper of World War 3!
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
Riding Flying Leprechauns into the Purple Universe of Giggling Belly Buttons
A poem by Wolf Larsen
Everyone in the human race is now being swallowed by the ever hungry robots!
The hungry robots are growing out of all our belly buttons - and our belly buttons sing to us of the sunshine! - and we walk through giant forests of pubic hairs together - and the flying cities jump out of the mouth of the television set and suddenly you're surrounded by thousands of television sets all talking to you of throwing rolls of toilet paper from one planet to another...
So you start running with millions of robots towards the sunlight, but suddenly you're all attacked by flying German Shepherds that are all singing one of Verdi's operas together, so you serve one of Verdi's operas with an orgy, and all the people on the bus jump unto the Moon and now everybody on the bus is trapped inside somebody else's imagination, meanwhile the bus is headed towards the big black hole in the middle of the universe (which is inside a painting in someone's attic) so now everyone has a tombstone growing out of their head and giant execution squads of flying insects are headed your way so you hide inside of millions of your own brains that are all floating out of boiling pot on the stove in Dutch Harbor Alaska, so now it's time to fly off to your old age and have a barbecue there, you're barbecuing a cat on the grill and while you barbecue the cat it’s telling you all about growing up in Brooklyn back when Brooklyn existed only inside Woody Allen's mind, but you can hardly hear the cat on the grill talking because all the flying leprechauns around you are bashing buildings together as they sing the national anthem of bouncing boobs, meanwhile a porn actor with a really big paint brush is painting the Virgin Mary with lots of Immaculate Conception, so do you want some barbecue sauce with your cat?
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
A crazy spontaneous poem performed outside (from my poetry channel on YouTube).
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
My poetry, plays, novels, & other stuff on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr...or=Wolf Larsen
Do not read this if you have a problem with obscenity, or if you are very religious. You have been warned!
You So DaNciNg-dAnCinG-DaNciNg with Thousands-of-Your-Clones!
A poem by Wolf Larsen
First I have sex with all the trees on the planet!
And now my brains is inside of your brains!
While My Penis flies through the air around & around your head!
I’m now lost inside millions of mazes of phrases of poetry!
So I pull all 20th century art out of my butt!
And I now ejaculate the entire English royal family all over Alaska!
Then the polar bears have sex with the entire English royal family!
The Alaskan natives in their igloos are busy painting tropical sunsets with their genitals!
Meanwhile, the tsar of 21st Century Russia is playing musical governments
While American candidate to Blow-Up-the-World Elizabeth Warren is fantasizing of the day when as Commander-in-Chief
She can pull out tanks & nuclear bombs & battleships out of her vagina
And make the world safe for American democratic Big Mac Coca-Cola & fries!
While all the feminists & liberals dance in the streets to Elizabeth Warren’s speeches flying out of her anus - hip hip hurrrraaayyyy!!
Meanwhile big musical farts erupt out of all the giant phallus horns being played by all the hipsters!
And huge fireflies are flying out of all of the murals on all the walls of the city being painted by the mass legions of homeless…
And the subway train flys from cloud to cloud in the sky and endless skyscrapers erupt out of everyone's crotches and millions of planets are revolving & revolving around Einstein's head as Einstein's hand masturbates uncle sam's Penis and then uncle sam's Penis ejaculates a piano concerto all over a painting called “The Big Whorehouse Known as Washington DC” by the great postmodern painter Igor the Magnificent Ball Scratcher and about two dozen squirrels on top of your bald head are all playing the Pink Bubblegum Symphony which was of course written by a homeless man that's sleeping on a subway train that's rolling off to heaven and all of the angels in heaven are singing a choir of Immaculate Conception orgies to the homeless man as he mounts the Virgin Mary on top of a mountain of used condoms as the Virgin Mary sings All Of The Glory of a new washing machine in a television commercial made back when everyone had Christian churches growing like herpes sores out of their Penises and all Penises were illegal back then because of the Christian-Feminist Moral Majority Tribunal of the Mayflower that sank into one of Percy Shelly's brains floating amongst millions of Shelly's brains inside of a surrealist painting which was painted with lots of high class syphilus by the great surrealist Marilyn Monroe with the Big Penis under her White Dress during her porn acting career with Robert & John Kennedy back when the Kennedy Brothers would dance to all of the different kinds of salad dressing on the supermarket shelves, would you like to go to a different Universe with me? Well, let’s all hop on a giant flying penis and goooooooo!!!
Copyright 2020 by Wolf Larsen
"...the ramblings of a narcissistic, self-obsessed, deranged mind."
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