A poet who I respect told me the other night that
my stuff wasn’t really poetry because:
A.) There were too many jokes,
B.) I didn’t slice enough arteries,
and
C.) It was… Gork. How can I bring myself to say it… accessible.
OK,
I’m a big boy now.
I can face facts.
I’m not in denial.
If such is indeed the case, I’ll deal with it.
I mean,
we live in an age of Elvis impersonators,
imitation crab meat,
Naugahyde,
and Doors tribute bands.
If Silicon Valley can bring you virtual reality,
I can bring you
virtual poetry,
not my soul,
but an incredible simulation.
Beatnikmania.
A concoction spun out of
smoke, mirrors, and crocodile tears.
Come take a ride thru
the theme park of my heart.
I’ll spit Hollywood blood for you.
I’ll tell you hard luck stories.
I’ll show you plasticine wounds.
I’ll give you
hired mourners,
tragic confessions,
giant inflatable dead lover dolls.
What do you want, honey?
What makes it good for you?
What do you mean, “Don’t I have any integrity?”
I can do integrity
if that’s what gets you off.
I mean,
if only blood clots are art
and punch lines are jive,
I can learn.
I’m versatile.
I’ll cry those ninety-six tears.
I’ll develop stigmata on command.
I’ll sign up for superfluous suffering
in order to keep up my standing in the community.
But
if you’re wrong,
when you die
you’ll go to hell
and spend eternity
having Groucho Marx tickle your naked foot
with Edgar Allen Poe’s
plumed pen.
–By Vampyre Mike Kassel
From Zeitgeist Press: Vampyre Mike Kassel was a poet, musician, songwriter, and playwright. He resided in San Francisco after having been run out of Boston for crimes against normalcy. He held the S. F. record for most times evicted. He liked sincere girls who didn’t wear too much makeup and who put out on the first date.
M.A. Kassel wrote, published, and performed enthusiastically in the San Francisco poetry and music scene for decades. He died in 2008, and will be mourned by many women and several cats. You can find Kassel’s poetic works at Zeitgeist Press.
