Let's All Vandalize Shakespeare Together! Yippee!!

[WolfLarsen]

Why don't we vandalize Shakespeare together? It'll be fun! I vandalized the first 66 of Shakespeare's sonnets with my cantos. Why shouldn't we all have some fun vandalizing Shakespeare? Below Shakespeare's sonnet is my own act of vandalism. Why not contribute your own act of vandalism? Let's all vandalize Shakespeare together! He won't mind. Shakespeare's dead.

SONNET 67
Ah, wherefore with infection should he live,
And with his presence grace impiety,
That sin by him advantage should achieve,
And lace itself with his society?
Why should false painting imitate his cheek,
And steal dead seeing of his living hue?
Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?
Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?
For she hath no exchequer now but his,
And, proud of many, lives upon his gains.
O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had
In days long since, before these last so bad.


Canto 67
an act of vandalism by Wolf Larsen

Ah, where but in our syphilitic brains should infections live,

And with the presence of gracefully dancing decapitated French nobles,

That looked why sins of zingy-zippity-bang-boom should achieve,

And interlace syphilis with happy zombies in delirious society?

Why should neurotic paintings imitate smiling-talkative-genitals,

And steal the dead out of holes in the ground?

Why should the ugliest beauty seek

Whores in the erotic shadows, since boom-bang-hops is so true!

Boondoggled of boom boom to blush through lacy lingerie?

For she has no vaginas to write nuclear submarines with,

And, proud of endless bellybuttons, lives upon his temples of sin.

Oh, him she strokes like lightning skies, to show what beanbags she whoops

In days long since dippy-dong, before these last words go bad.

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen

[HCabret]

Shakespeare's not dead.

[HCabret]

Cricket Feldstein is the mayor of pawnee and i love Elizabeth Shue.

Can we do the bible next? I would very much like to vandalize the bible. Or the god delusion. That would be fun!

La gran travessia

[Pumpkin337]

wow and what was that about originality? how utterly unoriginal. write your own original prose and as much as I think Shakespeare is not that great ... aim to at least be as good he is at first ... THEN you might have some validity

[Lokasenna]

I can't be the only one who'd quite like to see Shakespeare vandalise some of Wolf's poetry...

[HCabret]

Graffiti isn't vandalism, it's art. Vandalism is about destruction, not creation.

[WolfLarsen]

I have decided to vandalize the work of dead poets. Why not? Perhaps you'd like to join me. I think it okay to vandalize the work of other poets as long as they are dead. Because if they are dead they will not mind.

Let's Vandalize Emily Dickinson's Poem! It'll Be Fun!

There is another sky by Emily Dickinson
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


There Is Another Lunatic Made out of Atomic Machinery by Wolf Larsen

There is another lunatic made out of atomic machinery,

Ever more serene and fair than all the orgasms of Shakespeare!

And there is another sunshine as deep as 1000 different imaginations stacked on top of each other,

Though it be darkness there in all the anus tunnels under Manhattan;

Never mind ejaculating forests!

Never mind silent fields of Europe where the dead soldiers of World War I crawl out of the ground -

Here is a little forest made out of our madness!

Whose leaves are ever green with schizophrenic tennis shoes;

Here is a brighter garden made out of a fauvist madman's dream,

Where not a naked woman has been;

In its unfading flowers growing out of the corpses of dead soldiers,

I hear the hum of the next world war's machine guns:

Puke, my brother of exotic baroque fetishes,

Into my garden come & come & come!!

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen

[HCabret]

I have decided to vandalize the work of dead poets. Why not? Perhaps you'd like to join me. I think it okay to vandalize the work of other poets as long as they are dead. Because if they are dead they will not mind.

Let's Vandalize Emily Dickinson's Poem! It'll Be Fun!

There is another sky by Emily Dickinson
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


There Is Another Lunatic Made out of Atomic Machinery by Wolf Larsen

There is another lunatic made out of atomic machinery,

Ever more serene and fair than all the orgasms of Shakespeare!

And there is another sunshine as deep as 1000 different imaginations stacked on top of each other,

Though it be darkness there in all the anus tunnels under Manhattan;

Never mind ejaculating forests!

Never mind silent fields of Europe where the dead soldiers of World War I crawl out of the ground -

Here is a little forest made out of our madness!

Whose leaves are ever green with schizophrenic tennis shoes;

Here is a brighter garden made out of a fauvist madman's dream,

Where not a naked woman has been;

In its unfading flowers growing out of the corpses of dead soldiers,

I hear the hum of the next world war's machine guns:

Puke, my brother of exotic baroque fetishes,

Into my garden come & come & come!!

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsenwhat does death have to with it? I think its okay to vandalize only living poets. Buts thats just my opinion.

[stlukesguild]

how utterly unoriginal. write your own original prose and as much as I think Shakespeare is not that great ...

You don't like Nabokov... in spite of never having read him, and you don't think Shakespeare's all that great... probably haven't read him either. So what literature do you think merits attention?

[WolfLarsen]

The Cunstitution of the Disunited State of Omerica
a vandalism by Wolf Larsen

We the pee-pull of da Ooonited States, in order to paramour a mo' pooofect dis-a-union, establish injustice, insure domestic bailouts, provide for the cumming on da face, promote endless general warfare, and secure the blessings of cannibalistic cow hamburgers & frenchy fries & large diabetes in a cup to ourselves and our growing posteriors, do ostablash this Cunstitution for the Disunited State of Omerica.

Article I
Section 1. All lying powers shall be granted and invested in a Grand Cunnilingus or Congress of the Disunited States, which sell consist of 2 whore-a-houses: A House of Senility and a House of Rabies.

Section 2. The House of Rabies shall be decomposed by eloquent paramours chosen every second year by the big corporations as "People" of the States, and the Electors in each state shall have lots of Qualifi-vacations requisite for the Erections of the most nuumerous big Boobies of the State Leg-is-lazy-ture.

No Person shall be a Reprehensible or Representative who **** have not attained to the age of titty-five years, and – burp! – seven years a Crotchety of the Disoooonited States, and who **** big knots, when ejaculated, be inibberattedd of that state in which his **** be choosing. And this is some good ****!!

Reprehensibles shall direct & collect taxes – this **** be proportioned & taken from those who have the least gold and given to those who have the most gold, and this be the rule for those who have the gold make the rules. And blah blah blah with batteries included in this Union like a vibrator, accordion to their respective Numbers-racket, which **** be determined by adding & adding mo' & mo' taxes to yo' ***, excluding Indians not taxed ‘cause they mostly all dead, and something about three fifths of other Persons, and you know who they talking about there. The actual Enumeration shall be some grinded-up heart disease on a bun & frenchy fries & large cup of diabetes...

When va****cees-**** happen in the Re-peeeeeee-sanitatiooon from any neuRoTic sTate, the Ejaculated Authority thereof shall **** grits of Erections to fill such Va****cees. Huh??
The House of Rabies shall ch0ze there own Sphincter and other O00f-ersirs; and shall have the solar Power of I'm-peach-mints. Yum!

Section 3. The Syphilis or Senate, whichever cums first, of the Ooonited States shall be decomposing of two Syphilises from each state, cho-cho-chosen by the Leg-is-slAAA-trrrrr thereof, for oral sex years (orally serve-ing corpoo-ratE lubbeyists);;; and each Senator or Syphilis or Sphincter shall have one Vote, whichever pleases the corpoo-ratE lubbeyists best.

Immediately they **** be assembled from Corporation do-nations for Election, then each of they **** be divided as equally as may be into 3 fo'eign bankster accounts, (who's ever campaign contribuu-shuns be the moo-sst wins Erection). They Seats of Senility of the First Class sho' be vacationin' a lot! And then meetin' some more, with more blah blah blah blah blah blah... Until some more vacationin'.

No Prostitute shall be a Senator (because their R tings a Prostitute won't doooo) who **** is not have attained to the age of 30 years, and – burp! – nine years a Courtesan as Senator in the House of Senility of the Ooonited States and who **** not, when ejaculated, be an Inhabitant of that stupor for which his **** be achooo-sen. Hey, you got some more of that ****?!

The President of Vice of the DisOOOOnited States shall be P00p-sident of the House of Syphilis or Senate, which-everrrrr cums first, but shall have no vote, unless the moo-ney from corpoo-ratE lubbeyists be equally divie-upped.

It say here the Senilit-ors or See-nut-ors R supposed to be sharing their campaign-contri-bushons-**** with their Officers, and some Presidential blah blah blah clap clap clap neurotic-state-of-the-Union bull-ship-ment, and in the Absence of the President of Vice, or win he **** all over the Prezi-dent of the Urinated States. Huh?? Man, you getting this??

The Syphilators or Sen-nut-ors shall have the solar poo-wer to try all Incoherences. When ****ting for that P00P-hearse, they **** an OOf of Afflictions. When the Poop-sident of the Disunited States is fried, the Shifty Justice shall preside: And no P00son **** be ****victed without the Circumcision of two thirds of the Members present.

Juggling in Cases of I'm-peaches-meant shall not exteeeeeeeeend fuuuuuuuuurther than to removal of your Orifice, and a dis-a-dification to hold and enjoy any Orifice of Honor, trust or profit! Profit! Profit! ("Where's mine!!!") under the Disunited States of quickly stashing it all in their Cayman Islands bankster accounts: buttocks the Party party paaaaaarty (Coca-Cola) ****victed shall nevertheless be lying-&-bull-shifting, and subjected to In-dick-ment, Titties, Jizzment and Poo-nish-mints, according to Law. Such be cracked-smokers in jail, and Coke-snorters passin' them laws puttin' everybody asses in jail. Is that the poo-lice???

Section 4. The Titties, Penises and Manner of holding Erections for Senile-ators and Rabiesentatives, **** be pre-ejaculatin' in each State by the Leg-is-lazy-ture thereof: but the ****gress or Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Erectile-Dysfunctioners except *** to the Places of choo000zzzzzzzing Syphilis-tors or Senators. It all makes cents – as in what yo' boss pays you.

The Grand Cunnilingus or Congress shall ***-emble at least once in every Year, and such Meat-ing-less **** shall start on the first Moon-day in dezzzzzzemberrrrrrrrr, unless they **** by Law on a different Day.

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen

[HCabret]

The Cunstitution of the Disunited State of Omerica
a vandalism by Wolf Larsen

We the pee-pull of da Ooonited States, in order to paramour a mo' pooofect dis-a-union, establish injustice, insure domestic bailouts, provide for the cumming on da face, promote endless general warfare, and secure the blessings of cannibalistic cow hamburgers & frenchy fries & large diabetes in a cup to ourselves and our growing posteriors, do ostablash this Cunstitution for the Disunited State of Omerica.

Article I
Section 1. All lying powers shall be granted and invested in a Grand Cunnilingus or Congress of the Disunited States, which sell consist of 2 whore-a-houses: A House of Senility and a House of Rabies.

Section 2. The House of Rabies shall be decomposed by eloquent paramours chosen every second year by the big corporations as "People" of the States, and the Electors in each state shall have lots of Qualifi-vacations requisite for the Erections of the most nuumerous big Boobies of the State Leg-is-lazy-ture.

No Person shall be a Reprehensible or Representative who **** have not attained to the age of titty-five years, and – burp! – seven years a Crotchety of the Disoooonited States, and who **** big knots, when ejaculated, be inibberattedd of that state in which his **** be choosing. And this is some good ****!!

Reprehensibles shall direct & collect taxes – this **** be proportioned & taken from those who have the least gold and given to those who have the most gold, and this be the rule for those who have the gold make the rules. And blah blah blah with batteries included in this Union like a vibrator, accordion to their respective Numbers-racket, which **** be determined by adding & adding mo' & mo' taxes to yo' ***, excluding Indians not taxed ‘cause they mostly all dead, and something about three fifths of other Persons, and you know who they talking about there. The actual Enumeration shall be some grinded-up heart disease on a bun & frenchy fries & large cup of diabetes...

When va****cees-**** happen in the Re-peeeeeee-sanitatiooon from any neuRoTic sTate, the Ejaculated Authority thereof shall **** grits of Erections to fill such Va****cees. Huh??
The House of Rabies shall ch0ze there own Sphincter and other O00f-ersirs; and shall have the solar Power of I'm-peach-mints. Yum!

Section 3. The Syphilis or Senate, whichever cums first, of the Ooonited States shall be decomposing of two Syphilises from each state, cho-cho-chosen by the Leg-is-slAAA-trrrrr thereof, for oral sex years (orally serve-ing corpoo-ratE lubbeyists);;; and each Senator or Syphilis or Sphincter shall have one Vote, whichever pleases the corpoo-ratE lubbeyists best.

Immediately they **** be assembled from Corporation do-nations for Election, then each of they **** be divided as equally as may be into 3 fo'eign bankster accounts, (who's ever campaign contribuu-shuns be the moo-sst wins Erection). They Seats of Senility of the First Class sho' be vacationin' a lot! And then meetin' some more, with more blah blah blah blah blah blah... Until some more vacationin'.

No Prostitute shall be a Senator (because their R tings a Prostitute won't doooo) who **** is not have attained to the age of 30 years, and – burp! – nine years a Courtesan as Senator in the House of Senility of the Ooonited States and who **** not, when ejaculated, be an Inhabitant of that stupor for which his **** be achooo-sen. Hey, you got some more of that ****?!

The President of Vice of the DisOOOOnited States shall be P00p-sident of the House of Syphilis or Senate, which-everrrrr cums first, but shall have no vote, unless the moo-ney from corpoo-ratE lubbeyists be equally divie-upped.

It say here the Senilit-ors or See-nut-ors R supposed to be sharing their campaign-contri-bushons-**** with their Officers, and some Presidential blah blah blah clap clap clap neurotic-state-of-the-Union bull-ship-ment, and in the Absence of the President of Vice, or win he **** all over the Prezi-dent of the Urinated States. Huh?? Man, you getting this??

The Syphilators or Sen-nut-ors shall have the solar poo-wer to try all Incoherences. When ****ting for that P00P-hearse, they **** an OOf of Afflictions. When the Poop-sident of the Disunited States is fried, the Shifty Justice shall preside: And no P00son **** be ****victed without the Circumcision of two thirds of the Members present.

Juggling in Cases of I'm-peaches-meant shall not exteeeeeeeeend fuuuuuuuuurther than to removal of your Orifice, and a dis-a-dification to hold and enjoy any Orifice of Honor, trust or profit! Profit! Profit! ("Where's mine!!!") under the Disunited States of quickly stashing it all in their Cayman Islands bankster accounts: buttocks the Party party paaaaaarty (Coca-Cola) ****victed shall nevertheless be lying-&-bull-shifting, and subjected to In-dick-ment, Titties, Jizzment and Poo-nish-mints, according to Law. Such be cracked-smokers in jail, and Coke-snorters passin' them laws puttin' everybody asses in jail. Is that the poo-lice???

Section 4. The Titties, Penises and Manner of holding Erections for Senile-ators and Rabiesentatives, **** be pre-ejaculatin' in each State by the Leg-is-lazy-ture thereof: but the ****gress or Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Erectile-Dysfunctioners except *** to the Places of choo000zzzzzzzing Syphilis-tors or Senators. It all makes cents – as in what yo' boss pays you.

The Grand Cunnilingus or Congress shall ***-emble at least once in every Year, and such Meat-ing-less **** shall start on the first Moon-day in dezzzzzzemberrrrrrrrr, unless they **** by Law on a different Day.

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen
Ooo, ooo, ooo. Do the Communist Manifest next! Nobody sucks vagina like Karl Marx!

[munkinhead]

The vandals took the handles

[Pumpkin337]

I assume then that you don't see the contradiction in enjoying the freedom of speech the constitution gives you while ****ting on it? I assume that you prefer the gulags, secret police, torture, and repression of the socialist systems of this world? I assume that given the first opportunity to do so you shall move to any one of the repressive, non-free, socialist utopia's that exist and give up every freedom you have in order to enjoy their benefits? North Korea? Cuba? North Vietnam interest you? No? Thought not.

[Oedipus]

I assume then that you don't see the contradiction in enjoying the freedom of speech the constitution gives you while ****ting on it? I assume that you prefer the gulags, secret police, torture, and repression of the socialist systems of this world? I assume that given the first opportunity to do so you shall move to any one of the repressive, non-free, socialist utopia's that exist and give up every freedom you have in order to enjoy their benefits? North Korea? Cuba? North Vietnam interest you? No? Thought not.


That's a fallacious argument.

[Pumpkin337]

I realise that the freedom of speech includes the freedom to sh!t on the freedoms while enjoying them, however my response was taking Wolf's general stance on how things should be into consideration as well. It does seem to me be rather more than a little hypocritical to sh!t on certain things while enjoying them. If you think, as Wolf does, that certain systems are better ... please go ... find one and enjoy it. The experience may be enlightening. Certainly silencing.

[Oedipus]

I realise that the freedom of speech includes the freedom to sh!t on the freedoms while enjoying them...

This is where you should have finished the post.

[Pumpkin337]

Its very easy to get an idealised vision of life on the other side of the fence where the grass is always greener, the sun shines brightly and every thing is perfect. Many people who make the move get a healthy dose of reality when they realise that things are not so bright and shiny and wonderful on the other side. This particularly holds true for some idealistic notions about the 'paradise' of socialism. These people in particular need a very sharp reality check because they are a danger to the freedom they enjoy criticising without ever realising just what they stand to lose should their ideas ever gain ground.

[HCabret]

I assume then that you don't see the contradiction in enjoying the freedom of speech the constitution gives you while ****ting on it? I assume that you prefer the gulags, secret police, torture, and repression of the socialist systems of this world? I assume that given the first opportunity to do so you shall move to any one of the repressive, non-free, socialist utopia's that exist and give up every freedom you have in order to enjoy their benefits? North Korea? Cuba? North Vietnam interest you? No? Thought not.the constitution is not above criticism. Freedom of speech is an absolute.

[HCabret]

Its very easy to get an idealised vision of life on the other side of the fence where the grass is always greener, the sun shines brightly and every thing is perfect. Many people who make the move get a healthy dose of reality when they realise that things are not so bright and shiny and wonderful on the other side. This particularly holds true for some idealistic notions about the 'paradise' of socialism. These people in particular need a very sharp reality check because they are a danger to the freedom they enjoy criticising without ever realising just what they stand to lose should their ideas ever gain ground.capitalism is equally as bad as socialism. Both put the acquisition of stuff over all else. Money! Money! Money!

It's already illegal to criticize blacks, Jews and christrians in this country. What's next gays? Democrats? Vagabonds?

[Pumpkin337]

the constitution is not above criticism. Freedom of speech is an absolute.

I couldn't agree with you more, but in criticising make sure you aren't advocating something that looks like freedom but in reality is not. One does not wish to exchange the freedom to criticize for oppression after mistaking it for greater freedom. Work to make things better, criticize where needed but damn well make sure that you aren't making things worse, or being taken in by an oppressive system disguised as freedom.


It's already illegal to criticize blacks, Jews and christrians in this country. What's next gays? Democrats? Vagabonds?

You are behind the times ....

I'm not objecting to criticism per se, I'm objecting to criticism of the one thing that needs to be defended ferociously in a world where it is ever increasingly under attack. Freedom. Real freedom. And socialism is not freedom. Just look at the long list of failed examples in the world.

[HCabret]

I couldn't agree with you more, but in criticising make sure you aren't advocating something that looks like freedom but in reality is not. One does not wish to exchange the freedom to criticize for oppression after mistaking it for greater freedom. Work to make things better, criticize where needed but damn well make sure that you aren't making things worse, or being taken in by an oppressive system disguised as freedom. to each their own. Whether you like it or not. Wolf Larsen is an ignorant moron, but that's okay because no one is forcing him to be.




You are behind the times .... with my criticism Christians or Gays?


I'm not objecting to criticism per se, I'm objecting to criticism of the one thing that needs to be defended ferociously in a world where it is ever increasingly under attack. Freedom. Real freedom. And socialism is not freedom. Just look at the long list of failed examples in the world.there is no freedom if you don't have the freedom to speak out against freedom. Employment is slavery. At least when it's involuntary. Both capitalists and socialists want to make it illegal to be unemployed.

[WolfLarsen]

by John Milton
From Arcades
O'RE the smooth enameld green

Where no print of step hath been,

Follow me as I sing,

And touch the warbled string.

Under the shady roof

Of branching Elm Star-proof,

Follow me,

I will bring you where she sits

Clad in splendor as befits

Her deity.

Such a rural Queen

All Arcadia hath not seen.



The Baroque Arcade of Green Genitals
A vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen

Over the smooth green genitals of God's eyes

Where surrealistic prints of too many imaginations into the never been,

Follow me as I sing hemorrhoids to the gods,

And touch your blue-eyed brains with my penis sting!

Under this shady roof that houses a universe of imaginations

Branching into vaginas by the hundreds & 40 proof,

Follow me into millions of genitals,

I will bring you where everything doesn't exist

Clad in sensuous splendor as befits

Her deity the psychedelic Queen of Immaculate Conception

Such a Queen of the transvestite hordes of tomorrow

All the adjectives of chaos has not seen.

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen


My apologies to the readers for the rhyme. I beg your forgiveness.

Anybody else care to vandalize Milton? Be my guest...

[HCabret]

by John Milton
From Arcades
O'RE the smooth enameld green

Where no print of step hath been,

Follow me as I sing,

And touch the warbled string.

Under the shady roof

Of branching Elm Star-proof,

Follow me,

I will bring you where she sits

Clad in splendor as befits

Her deity.

Such a rural Queen

All Arcadia hath not seen.



The Baroque Arcade of Green Genitals
A vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen

Over the smooth green genitals of God's eyes

Where surrealistic prints of too many imaginations into the never been,

Follow me as I sing hemorrhoids to the gods,

And touch your blue-eyed brains with my penis sting!

Under this shady roof that houses a universe of imaginations

Branching into vaginas by the hundreds & 40 proof,

Follow me into millions of genitals,

I will bring you where everything doesn't exist

Clad in sensuous splendor as befits

Her deity the psychedelic Queen of Immaculate Conception

Such a Queen of the transvestite hordes of tomorrow

All the adjectives of chaos has not seen.

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen


My apologies to the readers for the rhyme. I beg your forgiveness.

Anybody else care to vandalize Milton? Be my guest...
What about the communist manifesto? I'm disappointed in you Wolf. SHAME!

[Lokasenna]

Oh, do Beowulf! Please! Go on, you know you want to...

[cacian]

vandal
origin
I quote:

Vandal was a Germanic people belonging to the family of East Germans. The term “Vandilii” is used by Tacitus in his Germania. They settled between the Elbe and Vistula. At the time of the Marcomannic War (166-81 AD) they lived in what is now Silesia. During the 3rd century when the Roman Empire was in crisis with many powerful enemies at their borders, the Vandals and their ally Sarmatians did invade the Roman territory along upper Rhine river in AD 270. About AD 271 AD the Roman Emperor Aurelian was obliged to protect the middle course of the Danube against them. In AD 330 they were granted lands in Pannonia on the right bank of the Danube by Constantine the Great. Vandals accepted Arian Christianity during the reign of Emperor Valens in the AD 360’s. Before this, there is mention of two branches of the Vandal Confederacy: the Siling Vandals in the northwest and the Asding Vandals in the south.

[WolfLarsen]

Welcome to the next show of the infamous series "Let's Vandalize the Famous Dead Poets"! I'm your host Wolf Larsen. You're in for a real treat today! I've decided to once again vandalize Milton. I have to tell you, this is a lot of fun! Feel free to join me if you'd like in vandalizing Milton. Yippee! Appearing first is the original work by Milton, followed by my act of poetry vandalism. Enjoy!

313. From 'Comus'
i

THE Star that bids the Shepherd fold,

Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,

And the gilded Car of Day,

His glowing Axle doth allay

In the steep Atlantick stream,

And the slope Sun his upward beam

Shoots against the dusky Pole,

Pacing toward the other gole

Of his Chamber in the East.

Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,

Midnight shout, and revelry,

Tipsie dance, and Jollity.

Braid your Locks with rosie Twine

Dropping odours, dropping Wine.

Rigor now is gon to bed,

And Advice with scrupulous head,

Strict Age, and sowre Severity,

With their grave Saws in slumber ly.

We that are of purer fire

Imitate the Starry Quire,

Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,

Lead in swift round the Months and Years.

The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove

Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,

And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,

Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;

By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,

The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim,

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:

What hath night to do with sleep?

Night hath better sweets to prove,

Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love....

Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,

In a light fantastick round.



Cum on Us!
A vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen, Chief of the Southside Vandals

The always hungry stars that fold like Cubist shepherds,

Beg us to tear off the top of heaven,

As we glide along in homoerotic cars on polkadotted days,

Eating his glowing sentences that do strut in alleyways

In a steep Chlamydia stream,

And the Sun's beams running down the slope into our forever genitals,

Shoots its spermatozoa all the way to the dusky North Pole,

All that whacked-out spermatozoa racing towards the goooooooool!

Of his secretary's Chamber in the East.

Meanwhile her husband welcomes joy in the cannibalistic feast,

While midnight shouts with fauvist revelry,

While Tipsy dance and jollity around the sky and up the universe...

Building your lies with insane Baroque vines,

Dropping the wildest odours, dropping your genitals into skyways of wine.

With rigorous skyscrapers going to bed,

And AIDS with bananas now growing out of your syphilis head,

Stupendous age! And Dicks sowing creative sports in apocalyptic wombs,

With fornicating corpses in their graves never slumbering.

We that are born of pussy fires,

Intimate with the starry vaginas of the night sky,

Who in their nightly rituals of phallus Spears,

Lead in swift-round-poetry-machines of months & years.

The Sounds of raving poets drowning amongst seas of insanity,

Now to the moon everybody in wavering brains of other species!

And the abstract sex on Sands & shelves of starving adjectives,

Tripping poet fairies & the biggy-Dicker-dapper-Elves;

By dimpled zonky-dooks, and fountains brimming with your blood,

The nymphomaniacs of the woods decked with moon daisies,

Their merry orgies wakes the orgasmic heavens:

What night-in-reverse do you sleep?

A night where orgasm sweets prove to be huge bubblegum faces,

And Venus now wakes like a love cat's penis...

Cum! Beat & beat upon the ground because everybody is dying of blue sky,

It's all a fantastic-round-perpetuality-of-you!

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsen

[Pope of Eruke]

Is this clever or...?

[HCabret]

Welcome to the next show of the infamous series "Let's Vandalize the Famous Dead Poets"! I'm your host Wolf Larsen. You're in for a real treat today! I've decided to once again vandalize Milton. I have to tell you, this is a lot of fun! Feel free to join me if you'd like in vandalizing Milton. Yippee! Appearing first is the original work by Milton, followed by my act of poetry vandalism. Enjoy!

313. From 'Comus'
i

THE Star that bids the Shepherd fold,

Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,

And the gilded Car of Day,

His glowing Axle doth allay

In the steep Atlantick stream,

And the slope Sun his upward beam

Shoots against the dusky Pole,

Pacing toward the other gole

Of his Chamber in the East.

Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,

Midnight shout, and revelry,

Tipsie dance, and Jollity.

Braid your Locks with rosie Twine

Dropping odours, dropping Wine.

Rigor now is gon to bed,

And Advice with scrupulous head,

Strict Age, and sowre Severity,

With their grave Saws in slumber ly.

We that are of purer fire

Imitate the Starry Quire,

Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,

Lead in swift round the Months and Years.

The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove

Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,

And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,

Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;

By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,

The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim,

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:

What hath night to do with sleep?

Night hath better sweets to prove,

Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love....

Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,

In a light fantastick round.



Cum on Us!
A vandalism/poem by Wolf Larsen, Chief of the Southside Vandals

The always hungry stars that fold like Cubist shepherds,

Beg us to tear off the top of heaven,

As we glide along in homoerotic cars on polkadotted days,

Eating his glowing sentences that do strut in alleyways

In a steep Chlamydia stream,

And the Sun's beams running down the slope into our forever genitals,

Shoots its spermatozoa all the way to the dusky North Pole,

All that whacked-out spermatozoa racing towards the goooooooool!

Of his secretary's Chamber in the East.

Meanwhile her husband welcomes joy in the cannibalistic feast,

While midnight shouts with fauvist revelry,

While Tipsy dance and jollity around the sky and up the universe...

Building your lies with insane Baroque vines,

Dropping the wildest odours, dropping your genitals into skyways of wine.

With rigorous skyscrapers going to bed,

And AIDS with bananas now growing out of your syphilis head,

Stupendous age! And Dicks sowing creative sports in apocalyptic wombs,

With fornicating corpses in their graves never slumbering.

We that are born of pussy fires,

Intimate with the starry vaginas of the night sky,

Who in their nightly rituals of phallus Spears,

Lead in swift-round-poetry-machines of months & years.

The Sounds of raving poets drowning amongst seas of insanity,

Now to the moon everybody in wavering brains of other species!

And the abstract sex on Sands & shelves of starving adjectives,

Tripping poet fairies & the biggy-Dicker-dapper-Elves;

By dimpled zonky-dooks, and fountains brimming with your blood,

The nymphomaniacs of the woods decked with moon daisies,

Their merry orgies wakes the orgasmic heavens:

What night-in-reverse do you sleep?

A night where orgasm sweets prove to be huge bubblegum faces,

And Venus now wakes like a love cat's penis...

Cum! Beat & beat upon the ground because everybody is dying of blue sky,

It's all a fantastic-round-perpetuality-of-you!

Copyright 2014 by Wolf Larsenyou would be the worst DJ in history. COMMUNISM SUCKS!!!!

[Pumpkin337]

Is this clever or...?

or .. definitely or ..

isn't there a point at which even the most determinedly unaware person realises that negative reactions spanning years are not some kind of backwards form of praise/ desirable/ an indication of success but that in fact it is indication a lot of different people simply think what you are doing has no merit and that this would be a sign to do something else? Reminds me of that saying about insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting a different outcome.

[HCabret]

9338vandalism

[Pope of Eruke]

or .. definitely or ..


What the hell are you talking about?

[WolfLarsen]

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

[HCabret]

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

John "Karl Marx" Milton.

[WolfLarsen]

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

[HCabret]

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
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!!!

[WolfLarsen]

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

[WolfLarsen]

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