Gloss Tea And Finger Crumpets With UnAlice And Jello Biafra Holding Up UnderLand~

oh dear~ the night is clinging like a magik tic made of diamonds and tocks~

Midnight tea pours itself in ink

painting tableau

as I adjust my dainty skirt of razorblades

in proper humility

bunched up by a hipbone

under UnAlice’s ministrations

turning my loose leaf pages over and under

stitching my skin book

into metal chair backing

curved to accommodate Jello Biafra

with his Cheshire smile

spooning

Califonia uber alles

from the flute of his thigh bone

into the gold coated silence of my cheeks;

I am caught

with wings fabricated by the great Yasumaro

before the staged pillage of a magik girl

peeled from the epic Kojiki

sewn with cherry blossom fibers

and smeared with raccoon eyes against the dilapidated

dreams

of a doorframe outside CBGB’s

 

I am such a clear window

but all the boys ever saw were the stained glass ghosts

falling to communion

at my leather Doc Martens

red

twelve eye holes

me

good enough to worship

never good enough

never safe enough

to love

 

But I digress

in pathetic woe my almond prattle

becomes passé

at the Café;

nothing really matters

in the club of rabbits

bouncing in strip cages

wondering how

they got from Minnesota corn fields

into smoke filled skin

and headlight eyes

 

Jello Biafra, my saint

perfumed my wrists in chemical warfare

and deep Henry Rollins colored me damaged

and made it alright to be so

but most curious was the girl made of peppermint wax

who ran the world between cracked walls

and little gods shooting heroin under the pounding speakers

and there, I, in my UnAlice pride

and knee high white socks

and pedigreed education

dared bring sunshine into the sideways worm hole

where wormwood played its music at the tips of my fingers

and punks licked the sharp years from the wasp of my waist

inhaling E minors and scooping myth cream from my white silver mind;

Jello said I tasted like pudding

 

Go ahead, smile

I am

smiling

 

UnAlice in a flash of white teeth

dipping a ladle in concrete

and green marsh

scooping milk and whiskey

and organelles

into flutes

for another soul drunk night in UnderLand

where we dance

and dance well

and dream hard

to keep OverLand

from crushing down

on us

weird folk

 

Go ahead

smile again

I am

 

 

 

copyright:2011victoriaseleneskyedeme/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Author's Note

the oldest written work in Japanese literature is " Kojiki" in 712, in which "Yasumaro "recorded Japanese mythology and history ~

Jello Biafra and Henry Rollins, respectively from the Dead Kennedys and Black Flag, were lead singers/song writers from the 70's punk movement who screamed with social conscience~ I got a lot of my education about humanity from men like this while I was too young to be at any of these clubs~ lol

Reviews

[Lilly Negoi]

"good enough to worship
never good enough
never safe enough
to love"
that is one huge punch, i'd say :). that "worship" thing made me see you floating on a cloud of words, petting them on their heads while crushing others' envious groaning under your heel - and all that with an ironic sparkle in your eye.

[EMF]

Oh, you do make me smile. Although it is slightly depressing that you and I need to explain to the younger ones who Jello and Henry are. I loved this. So pure and sweet... So pure and such a sweet blend of punk and Jamanese styles. Absolutley wonderful. Oh, and such images... DOn't worry I'm not up for copy and paste in a review. A Skirt of Razor blades will touch some of the closet B&D's in a 'special' way. You are in a class of your own, and you make my day such a brighter place. And you don't half make me smile

[C]

good enough to worship
never good enough
never safe enough
to love



a razorblade poke to the throat kitty.

[asdarkeyesclose]

'I am such a clear window

but all the boys ever saw were the stained glass ghosts

falling to communion

at my leather Doc Martens

red

twelve eye holes

me

good enough to worship

never good enough

never safe enough

to love'

i liked the mix of this poem- we have punk and a 'skirt of razorblades' we have the cherry blossom of Japan and her literature and these are blended into a surreal landscape that is both poetic and unforgettable. So many great lines, the images exquisite and layered like fine petticoats. This is poetry that liberates the mind and the soul.

[Reese38]

Your irreverent blending of classic Japanese forms and characters from the 70's punk movement is done with a enchanted pen. This is the kind of ink that will eventually end up changing not just how Literature is introduced to students, but who's introduced at the pinnacle of language restructuring. It's not just the poem or stories, but how you tell them, that makes you uniquely you.



I am such a clear window

but all the boys ever saw were the stained glass ghosts

falling to communion

at my leather Doc Martens

red

twelve eye holes

me

good enough to worship

never good enough

never safe enough

to love


Like Lily Negoi, I feel this stanza right in the center.



And this one line;


Jello said I tasted like pudding


Really, Selene, sometimes when I'm on the edge of a meltdown from your sharp story, out of nowhere you insert a line or two that brings out a quick laugh. Balance, you present a new emotional balance in literature and its emotional presentation.