Dankprofessor’s Weblog

A weblog examining sexual politics in higher education and beyond.

Poetics

Poetics will periodically appear in the dankprofessor’s blog. Why not start in the area of dementia?

THE PURE MAD POETIC DEMENTIA by Larry M. Blumenfeld © Copyright 2008 (larrymblumenfeld@yahoo.com)

The pure mad poetic dementia becomes the transcendental vision of the personal perspective-driven reality of the omnipresent wordslinging streets…..that special reality given only to those few scruffy angels who fearlessly seek the veracious flash of ultimate truth. These magnificent misbegotten troubadours somehow survive amidst the neverending swarm of fascist zombies crawling out from every toxic planted rock in every false dead suburb of the burning polluting murdering white rape of all black and brown pagan pawns from the Mississippi Gulf Coast to the Congo. But the believe it or not clarion call goes out under the following banner of boom doom and soon: Trust me these milky white Jesus days are on the fringes of over.

The pure mad poetic dementia makes my balls ache with voodoo transformations of wild and frenzied nights and the tumbling free magic of the ejaculated word: You want a piece of me is coming from the back seat of a car boombox the girl’s raspy sex-charged voice igniting my libido to the image of the piece of meat carnality of her transmitted song in a delicious reflection of tits and young skin and ass and wet cunt and my exploding cock…..all of this blister-beetled orgasmic desperately wished for congress amidst endless newscasts of blasted bloody beaten dark damned dead arabs mixed in with hosts of scream-visaged women and stunned ripped and broken babies, not to mention the thousands of American dead blown away chunks of meat and the surviving thousand mile stares oblivious to their missing arms and legs left in some mass Iraqi ditch.

The pure mad poetic dementia grinds away in timeless memories of raw jungles and freezing wandering tundras filled with bugs and snakes and huge cunning predators waiting in ambush for the smartass crafty cunning beast who walks upright getting past his spears and stone weapons in just enough time to rip his fucking guts out hanging them in
tall trees for a dark moonlit feast with their hungry cubs…..The purpose to survive but the hoped for result is to thin the population of these packs of killers who love to kill even when their guts are sated…..Yea, Reader, there will come a time…..believe me, there will come a time.

The pure mad poetic dementia includes feasts of stars a soft wind in the trees the low roar of well fed lions rolling on cool leaves loving only the moment…..no plans for world wide dominion…..only the powerful but
closed-clawed paws cuffing their young in playful but instant satisfaction with no crafty serpentine rationale for alt their tomorrows: God bless the natural order but Goddamn those who refuse to leave it alone…..The ultimate result may be the universal denial of dominion and the extinction of its pontificators.

April 2, 2008 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

   

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