I want to switch chairs
with jesus,
says brando scratching
his balls.
how will we sort our miscellaneous
gods
how shall we start
to be where we’re at
Super cool fusion
reacts with digital
on the rest room floor,
stitch McCartney to the Mirror,
mail it off to Tokyo Rose,
or fax it to the o’reilly show
Or marry someone
in a contest;
When once Swinboune married Calydon,
wedded Atalanta to the dawn,
was that God dying in the wind
sighing patria
of Michaelangelo
fucking delecto
on the cold grave?
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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I loved the opening two lines of this poem!
They caught me off guard and made me laugh! Very witty. Alas, I will never be an American Idol but I am Canadian Idle...ya, I do idle real well! 
Pam
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i see as a parody of these so- called celebs or i could be wrong. i do believe you point out some very astute points that would make a difference if they were even noticed. too many of these so called idol anyway especially the no talent ones.
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x
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very interesting write. I enjoyed it
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I write in here not to waste your points by not commenting but, beyond saying that, I can not get a focus on this piece. Perhaps my Swinburne and Calydon have never impinged and therefore I am at a loss. Beyond the Sistine Chapel I can not connect to the final verse either. All ways up (as the writer might say) I am fucked.
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social comment
Is that what it is, "fax it off to the o'reilly show Or marry someone in a contest"? And then you refer back to Swinbourne, one of the daring ones of Victorian times, I believe.
God dying in the wind -- could be another bit of social comment.
A good read, thank you.
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What visuals to wake up to! LOL Creative as Can be - liked the flow, the message shared in these lines - great word combinations in here too. Title brought me here, but the words held me till the end. Like dusting off older writes that haven't been read much and giving them a second chance at imortality...what our muse won't create - we just go along and take the credit!
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I love this poem
on the cold grave
the idols muck about
or is that fuck about
I will take brando scratching his balls into my day,
a great start of a morning,
your writing weaves history and culture like
a conductor of an orchestra
of time,
non linear time,
applause. kat
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So many people loved this effort. I suppose I better follow suit. Fuck that.
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OK, this was fun.
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A Fast Feast
Jesus Fucking Christ on a Crutch! You keep writing favorites and make me look like a fickle infatuated boy. Okay, this is my favorite today.
Sharp clean precise – not one wasted word.
The cult of celebrity is what has replaced natural religion in the degenerate and fading empire of America, and you my brother are a prophet of the latter Day Romantics ala Blake and Swinboune.
The American Idol is not even made of gold; our idols are pitiful reflections of blasphemy, so decrepit that they would not warrant an angry ten commandments but only one screech from an exasperated Universal Spirit: “THOUS SHALT NOT! PERIOD!”
Even Brando and Jesus have been rendered into fun house mirror parodies in the cult of celebrity – so distorted that they would not recognize themselves and be trapped for eternity in a maze of mirrors.
American idolatry is not even gilt; it is a pathetic papier-mâché piñata calf. The Poet here whacks it with a stick and spills the candied remains of our once glorious revolution.
I like this candy – man does not live by bread alone – and I will fast a feast on these words.
Peace.
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the title drew me in
You capitalize McCartney, Tokyo Rose, Swinboune, Calydon and Atalanta, God. Michaelangelo but not brando. Is there a reason for that? Perhaps.
Also these lines here:
"how shall we start
to be where we’re at"
Never end a sentence with a preposition.
I think they should all be scratching their balls.
Desiree
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You gots like lots of views and no commentators or claps or nuttin here.
Wunder why.
how we should start
to be where we're at.
very cool line. (though my father always yelled at me for leaving at at the end of a line like that).
best thing about Lute? he tells it like it is though what it is is often left up to the reader to decipher which is good cause who wants to be told stuff all the time.
american idol = todays gods
poets writing stuff? that God=like?
Michelangleo talked about him on his deathbed. Him couldda been part of that secret society and all.
fucking is a good word.
here have some clap with your fuck.
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