What the hell are you talking about?Originally Posted by Pumpkin337
What the hell are you talking about?
Welcome to another episode of "Let's Eat the Neighbors Dog! Yum Yum!" Oh whoops sorry that's a different show. Today Wolf Larsen presents another episode of "Let's Vandalize a Famous Dead Poet!" And let me tell you all, you're in for a real treat, because today we have a live orchestra! So feel free to get up and dance at any time!
You all know how it works here. First comes the original work of the famous dead poet, followed by Wolf Larsen's vandalism. Feel free to add your own vandalisms of the famous dead poet.
And today we have a contest with a wonderful prize. The contest question is: "what is the first name of the famous dead poet Milton?" Stay tuned. The winner of the contest receives his or her very own planet - as well as 10,000 McDonald's hamburgers delivered to your doorstep tomorrow morning.
And now without further ado, let's vandalize a famous dead poet!
314. From' Comus'
ii. Echo
John Milton. 1608-1674
SWEET Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy shell
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet imbroider'd vale
Where the love-lorn Nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well.
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle Pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O if thou have
Hid them in som flowry Cave,
Tell me but where
Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear!
So maist thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all Heav'ns Harmonies!
The Echo in Your Dancing Brains
a vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen
The harp plays the sweetest nymph, while the flute plays the sweetest echo
And within the shell of your head wars ooOOze,
And the violins play a sloooow me-e-a-A-a-nd-D-errrr-ing green,
And then the saxophone & drums & trumpet play vioOOoleeent volleys,
Where love is e-a-A-a-t-E-n by Nightingales,
And nightly the songs m-o-O-o-u-U-rrrrrn the extinct human race.
The harp performs a gentle pair of k-i-s-S-s-ing homosexuals,
That like narcissus as much as 1000 Wolf Larsens k-i-s-S-s-ing each other?
Oppaa! If the saxophone's streeeaaam of logic & illogic have
Hid all them planets in some Cave of melody flowers,
Tell the 10 million monsters in your g-e-E-n-N-i-T-a-ls but where
Sweet Queen of the haaaarrrp, Daughter of the man with the giant Spear!
So the mayonnaise has translated the m-UuuUuusSsic into 12 tone skies,
And given sOoOoOuUunNdDs the grace of falling heavens the disharmony of you!
Copyright 2014 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
John "Karl Marx" Milton.
The preceding was an announcement of the House Un-American Activities Committee.
It's time to vandalize a Robert Browning poem. After all, he is a famous dead poet. Robert Browning's poem comes first, followed by my act of vandalism. Feel free to vandalize a famous dead poet as well if you would like.
Robert Browning poem: a gondola
HE moth's kiss, first!
Kiss me as if you made me believe
You were not sure, this eve,
How my face, your flower, had pursed
Its petals up; so, here and there
You brush it, till I grow aware
Who wants me, and wide ope I burst.
The bee's kiss, now!
Kiss me as if you enter'd gay
My heart at some noonday,
A bud that dares not disallow
The claim, so all is render'd up,
And passively its shatter'd cup
Over your head to sleep I bow.
Robert Browning Writing a Gondola through a Hurricane of Wolf Larsen
a vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen, chief of the Southside Vandals
All the moths in the fields are kissssssssinggg first ziPper zipPer zippeR!
Kiss me with spaceships if you BELIEVE in mustard,
you-you-yooouuu were not even sure if you BREATHE, this eve of menstruation rivers,
Piano CRASH my face! Ding ding ding my flowers! Pursue the sky until you find your PENIS!
All my petals up-up-UP! Here & there with CoONnsSTtrRUucCTtiIOonN sites!
You blush with so much good & EVIL, till I grow aware of bing-bongs bing-bongs bing-bongs!
Who wants me with so much wide OPEN brains going highways, I buuuuurst!
Kiss nuclear Armageddon NOW! (Or soon.)
KISS me if your uterus is all gray!
My heart is being EATEN by all the attacking verbs every nOonday-noOnday-nOonday!
Dare to WHACK the BOOMY smack! Disallow! Disallow toilets to sing!
I claim iiiiiiqukq/iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnngggggggg! All rendered UP! So POP!
Passively KA-BOOOOOMED! Shattered shattered shat t t t tere d ! !
Over your head to Saturn's rings flyyyying around McDonald's arches I bow to sleep in you...
Copyright 2014 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
How do you know that I am an American? Or could care about what is American or un-American? Capitalism is anti-freedom, so is communism. Any system which seeks to rid the world of voluntary poverty is a bad one. STOP DEMONIZING POOR PEOPLE!!! FOR GOD'S SAKE!!! JUST STOP!!!
Let's Vandalize John Donne!
Once again it's time for some more vandalism! Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Today we are going to vandalize John Donne. His poem will come first, followed by my poem/vandalism.
THE FLEA.
by John Donne
MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
thE-e-e-E fLe-E-E-e-A-a-A
A vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen, Cmdr.-in-Chief of the Southside Vandals
MeEAa-a-a-a-n-N-d-D-e-r-ing this fleeeep! Whooop!! And miki-bing in this!
How lip that jack jack jack your body! that which pisses ketchup to me;
It sucked all the universe out of me first, and now TWAACK!!
And in this graffiti-vortex of two bloods miNgLeDd beeeeeeeeeeee aRt-arT-?-aRr-r-r-T-t illegally all over the wall the w-a-A-a-L-l.
Tap knowing-knooOOoowWing-knowing??? this-&-that...
A sin! A shame! Thousands of lost maidenheads all red on my penis-pEniS-pe?NiiiS?s!
Yet yet yet! Yet? Enjoooooyyys enjoy before it woos the oh oh oh!
And pampered swe-E-lling blood made of two to too & two more or to more??
And this conga drum penis-alas!-,! Is more to more than we do doing to each other!
Oh stay with me until airplanes eat the walls, three lives in one big genital spree,
Where we almost become giant flying testicles! Zappity! More more more! Than married are why?
This feafeedadee is you and I dancing blue sky with sunlight, and this moon I eat is you,
Our marriage bed of 6,000 paradises a marriage temple of sodomy.
Through parents conceived in the garage full of horny robots and you meat me!
iiinNSaniiiiiiTiiiiies cloistered in the living walls of iNsSsAaaaaaaane-sSexXxuUaL-fOreVerS.
Though using Dutch mUsHr00ms make you so m-a-a-K-E yo00000uuuuu aaaAAAARRrrrgggghhh kill me with COLOR BLUE! So much GIGANTIC bluuue!
Let self-murder be added to monarch butterflies flying music to genitals!
And suckriledge! The most black people music sins! Killing too much night...
Cruel & sudden swoooop whaaaaa?t
Purpled & snails with blood of innocents in my goblet...
Where in good guuiLTyyyy could guilty be?
Except drooooooop the poem goes OOPS! OOOOOOOOOOOOOPPS!
Yet triumph to triumph, say to say, thou to thou, thoooouuuuu
Find not yourself in Cubist imaginations or iMagiNaTiii000nssss, for NOW! Weaker? Me! I self?
'Tis true to learn how false falsities be when false fears be fippity foin';
Just so much hockity-hoin', when the land yields to me & my iMaGiNaTi000000n,
Will waste giant toilets of fingernails! As this fickety-foop do diddle. Would you like to take some life with that?
Copyright 2014 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
WB Yeats Prepare to Be Vandalized! Yippee!
W.B. Yeats prepare to be vandalized! Yippee!
As usual, the original work by the original poet is presented, followed by my vAnDaLiSm. Enjoy!
Yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!
AT GALWAY RACES
by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)
HERE where the course is,
Delight makes all of the one mind,
The riders upon the galloping horses,
The crowd that closes in behind:
We, too, had good attendance once,
Hearers and hearteners of the work;
Aye, horsemen for companions,
Before the merchant and the clerk
Breathed on the world with timid breath.
Sing on: somewhere at some new moon,
We'll learn that sleeping is not death,
Hearing the whole earth change its tune,
Its flesh being wild, and it again
Crying aloud as the racecourse is,
And we find hearteners among men
That ride upon horses.
The Race of the Most Bootiful inS-a-Ni-iTy-Y
a vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen, chief of the Southside Vandals
Here! Where courses of cunnilingus eat the days,
DeeLiighTtt makes all the minds & one mind all the m-M-i-i-N-n-d-Ds & one mind all the minds & one m-I-I-I-n-N-D-d,
The subway riders gallooooooooooop metal horses into World War 3,
The cr0000wd closes in k-I-c-K-ing YOU from behind:
You against we, and all that to too twwwwwwwwwwwwwwo of a language that makes as much sE-n-N-s-E as 1,000 years of anglo-saxon bArBaRiAnN bAbBLe,
And work is a four letter word, except for those who don't have to do it:
Oy vey! Here come the kulak horsemen in blue cop uniforms!! Ruuuuuuuuun!!!
Beep! Foooooooooooooore! And some dingle-diggy about mER-chant-chant-cLeRk &
Breeaathing WINDS upon the world that launch h-u-U-R-r-i-i-C-a-A-n-N-e-S.
The ooooorgy siiiiiings on: somewhere a saxophone player p-L-a-A-a-Y-y-s you & us a new moooooon,
We'll learn that sleeping is not rearranging letters & words into streams of darkness, but death is the GIANT WELCOME by the worms & maggots & cockroaches DEVOURING what used to be us,
Hearing new earths changing tunes to sexy-illiterate-sEnTeNcE-sTruCtuReS,
Flesh being flesh and wild, but then again dongity-dong in your toilet hole,
Crying aloud to the deaf word of j-u-S-s-T-i-C-e in a jail cell,
And we find everything foul & wonderful among men!
That ride upon this giant tidal wave of life!
Copyright 2014 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
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