poetry critical

online poetry workshop

SECTION 18: scuba moose[winkle-orsonist/shatner(zan)slack consumption and oscillation prayer]

and joey valve

...also last christmas when  Ruzena “Zanaskova” Rudnika navigated her way through caramel caverns and succulent stalactites of oozing nougat using only the magnetic polarity of her monobrow and memories of the intense funktonic stank molecules that had festered in the wet hotness between Relja “Zan Pjer” Basics wooly scalp and the burlap hat, tailored by Jerzy “Thomas Zan” Radziwilowicz
snug and warm and complete with flappy earflaps
there was a note that read:
“All I ever wanted, was to hear the words ‘How was your salad sir?’”
(See reverse side for installation instructions, if problem persist, please contact the main office for a personalized description of ‘Thom’*)
dixiecup riddles reverberated in the figurative gizzard of Aljosa “Zan...Sluga” Vuckovic
veins quivered
throbbed in his eyes
swelling to the size of garden hoses
his obsessive hyper vigilance, triggered the yodeling of 52000 turkeys
which may have existed only as an auditory hallucination
rhombic photophosphorescent ctenophores
floated to the earth around him
from ethereal nostrils of heavenly moai
like highly radioactive autumn leaves...on fire
Aljosa insisted
(to nobody in particular)
that it was he, who voiced the inch high private eye
Don Adams be damned.
so be it!
long gone
long gone are the days of standing in the courtyard
looming fir trees  throat-singing
in affirmation of his existence
only months before
that very courtyard
punctuated with the thrashing of shapeless black beasts
in crimson stained thorn bushes
did friend Slobodan “Zan/Jovan Todorovic” Djuric
(after several intenseive rolfing session)
did engorge several of his air bladders with various gasses
did curl his toes and fingers backwards
did whisper: “UT!” to himself
Slobodon, just floated away
only to appear, minutes later
at the 1942 Bearded Poodle vs. Bearded Vulture Hula-Hoop Hootenanny
in the aisle of P’oppo
where the famous coat resides
where the trains are a brilliant plastic
where the big bottle of sody, can be drank
where you can speak to a miniature version of yourself
in the uniquely lit tavern
among the collosal buzzing heads
of defeated kovacsizan ernie-bots
stands the frazzled Fragglepuss(3 time winner of the crayola crown)
“unofficially uno;” he says to a nearby deck of cards
“it’s time for me to cancel my membership
to the minnesota association of rogue cylons”
so be it!
“IT’S OFFICIAL:ALPAHBLITZ! See page B2.”{armadillo-12}
fire lurches, and howls, and hisses inside the soot soaked fireplace
as if satan were dancing within the flames
playing his fiddle
manipulating it’s fracas
smell of roasted apples and scorched tobacco
hung in the air like freshly spun liverwurst
hung in the air above Bora “Hermaphropuff Zan” Todorovics head
he sat
surrounded by the coarse fabric, of one of the most uncomfortably upholstered chairs:
-the texture of fuzzy cement
-a balding goat, after rigor mortis
-bareley sharp, steely bristles
-frayed foil teeth
short sleeves, or shorts meant doom in a chair such as this
Bora sat
and thought about what would the howl of an inside out dog sound like
Bora sat
contemplating the pungent air
Bora sat
cheeks reddened by the flames-
eyes narrowed
fingering the ear of the severed head that sat on his lap
[[{{{KABBA KONG}}}]]
gorilla monkey with hands mountains
thirsty s'il you to drink pleases
somewhat, its beverage!
because don't that you also did
if you cannot make damage, then do not
make bon changes in landscape at laughing color and much
d'élasticité in helecopters
and you for dinners c'était that qu'hurler
the sugar factory of the children
such as the fresh cheeses
perfectly admirable volcano
zanfred be much and sanwhickes free zan have where you this
such as you treated would like it expires
and of the universal truths to speak
goo boo!
[[{{{KABBA KONG END}}}]]
(*not ‘Thom’)
Fat kid, Mischa “Zan, the hunchback” Auer
with hair like banjo strings
pockets full of obliterated fig newtons
kicking a broken tonka around his back yard
pale yellow weeds crunching beneath his keds
giggling and snorting
completely oblivious to the shapeless black beast
thrashing about in the crimson stained thorn bushes nearby
“You have all the charm and charisma of a festering, maggot ridden donkey cunt.”
spoke the wounded creature
these words reverberated in Mischas literal gizzard
twenty years later, yet simultaneously
(during the grand opening of the ELEVATORIUM)
these very words were spoken to him
by a frowning deck of cards
as Mischas toyed with an antler found in his neptune salad
de-staple you genitals from the st. bernards face and climb aboard necroamphibulatory gyrocopter, grab a slice of rainbow pie and watch in horrified glee at the madcap sorrow of Orson and Joey as they enlist the mildly entertaining anthropomorphic antics of  Magilla Gerbillah and the Not-Ewoks in their battle against the anus enlarging deviltry of pispanian corporate sponsorship- NOT since their commemorative plate collecting antics with their pal Goofazurus did self mutilation and dinners with your mother qualify as such appealing masturbation fodder, ah yes, it’s out of the rehab and into the urine soaked alleys for these two... so slap the zoloft out of your daughters mouth and haul ass to the clitoribus this christmas and
...also last christmas when  Ruzena “Zanaskova” Rudnika navigated her way through caramel caverns and succulent stalactites of oozing nougat using only the magnetic polarity of her monobrow and some other relentless agonizing obnoxiously insane bullshit
(B2-please note: a miniature naked Rodney Dangerfield chants over a crystal skull somewhere in papua new guinea)

3 Nov 04

Rated 6.5 (7.3) by 2 users.
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http://www.imdb.com/F ind?select=Characters&for=zan&Go.x=17&Go.y=0&Go=Go
 — onklcrispy

of course. glad to have you back.
 — ShelbyS

 — unknown

No objections to the use of the word "cunt" here.
I won't even pretend to know what's happening, but
I have a friend named Bora.

And I'll just pretend that Slobodan refers to Milosevic,
and Chernobyl somehow.
And that shatner refers to William.
Love banjo strings in 96.
Love 15.

 — unknown

Im sooooo lost.
 — madderhatter

pah don't think that by including popular cultural references like
inch high private eye
and monkeys
that i'm gonna love this
cos i'm not
it's lacking in umbrellas

bugga you.
i love this.

it's much better than spiders, soap and bells too.
 — kaleidazcope

you are all  glorious-we shall appear in a painting together someday-bukkets of cookies for all
-orkni churpsis
 — onklcrispy

"...self mutilation and dinners with your mother qualify as such appealing masturbation fodder"

Dude, you've got problems. Thank goodness.
 — capnorange

Nightmaringly boring.  I could imagine being read this in a torture chamber after all else had failed.
 — unknown

Dear unknown commenter,
Please fuck me.
 — onklcrispy

of this poems radio...-
.....bright black moon........the movies have taken our language........
 — baldeinstein

wow im lost...ill reread it maybe comment later
 — unknown

"if problem persist?"
 — unknown

Looks like script from a cult. Cults are cool.
 — FangzOfFire

 — unknown

but what does it all mean?
 — omega

good question!
 — onklcrispy

Wow so long its simply awesome like a letter from the mother in law cutting you ouy of her will cus you murdered her daughter.
 — larrylark

If I were to take the works of 3 published czech poets and dump ém in a big pot of lentil soup, then pour it all over a handfulla scree I believe it would look like this "poem".
Is this what you did, Onk?
 — unknown

no. not yet.
 — onklcrispy

l106 should be "mischas'" since it's posessive
l113 at the beginning should be "your genitals"

That said, I can so completely identify. It's mostly well-said. But in my opinion, you could use a few more punctuations in some places and capitolise certain proper nouns, though I see why you don't. I would also suggest that you bring your unreal aspects (like peoples' nicknames) closer to the Earth in the interest of making the entire poem relate to us a lot more. However, from the comments below, it seems that I might be one of the few people here who gets just about everything you said.

So let me say this: go over the poem with a fine combing device, preferentially irradial with superfluous intoxicants on standby. Nit and pick as much as you can. Ignore the mighty exsufflicatious insinuations of the nimble Kerouac: what works for him doesn't work for me. Polish your work until it glistens like a thugster's gold incisor. Trust me- it's what you want.

P.S. Why aren't you published? Is it because you're not a poetry professor at a small liberal arts college in the midwest?
 — zepplin42


Supe rimposed green undulating phantasm!  If aliens took off faces and proved Heidelberg's uncertainty principle less certain, this would still shimmer like popples in an oil spill!

Disorganized salutations from the pinched butt-cheeks of squad #903: bumblefuck, lower pispania.

 — root

too much work.
 — unknown

tweeked/edited 12/23/05

 — onklcrispy

http://www.imdb.com/Ch aracter?zan

this was to be the original link--may help to clarify--

--who i am i kidding
 — onklcrispy

I wish I could give this an 11.

I laughed out loud most of the way through (especially 63-78), even though most of this is simply unrelentsurprismagorificaiton.

That's as close as I come to being able to tell you anything you might hope, or deserve to hear.  Thanks.
 — root

I would love to hear about your process of writing poems if that's a story you care to tell.

If not here you are welcome to email me.
 — root

man this is soo random but awsome. a fav 4shor
 — tearsofblood

the mighty onkly. id spit an polish his lenses to live in his world. the time it takes to lick my fingers.
 — unknown

the mighty onkly. id spit an polish his lenses to live in his world. the time it takes to lick my fingers.

 — unknown

Someone's taking the piss...
 — unknown

un fukin believable

this reminds me why i must only have sex with with complete idiots

(btw: your a bit slow today)

 — unknown

This is good.
 — unknown

Reminds me of the monologue by Crispin Glover in the beginning of "Dead Man". Amazing combinations and comedy...a bit too filled for the content. Seems like you were stoned and wrote 'til you ran out, but I doubt that somewhat because it is very intelligent. Tiring though, maybe I'm too tired for it right now. I love the antler in Neptune salad and inclusion of Moai but that needs a better inclusion--also the tiny detective and the tiny image of oneself reflected. Wow, the wee folk get some time! Exaggerated genius unique but...hmmm...fumes? -C
 — unknown

onkl, your mind scares me, but in a good way.
you have perfectly expressed a dream i had a couple of nights ago here.
umm ... thanks (?)
 — Esoteric

read first stanza and have no inclination to read the rest- utter bullcrap
 — unknown

you shat this out didn't you? not poetry at all
 — unknown

plz tell me what the hell fig newtons are
 — unknown

tour de force? farce? farsi?
hell who cares. come here now, love, my left tit is engorged and already letting down. quick. dont think dont hoard the bloody words any more! suck suck you will become immuno-protected and pseudo-undetectable at once!! infallibly phallic and at it. OH mamaliga stuck in the crack of my mameluco!! My name is YellSin of OOlcous and  I wear velcro pez instead of fishflakes.
 — unknown

see me outside!! now!! Ed!!
 — unknown

Hi onklcrispness - there are some gems 'n'nuggets amongst the avalanche of detritus but you need to refine and refine to get the sublime from some of the ridiculous .... 117 is an example that could be isolated and expanded. It's cool to let the brain freewheel ((p)harmaceutically or otherwise) like this... I have hundreds like this but I keep them in a shoebox and edit them in the cold light of day... hugz... Mitch :-)
 — pdemitchell

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