There was a Time when the Six-pack I was carrying was actually attached to Me,
When I entered the Room,
The Daughters of Aphrodite would Scream,
"Break Out the Knee-pads, and Bring me My Chapstick!"
Now they Turn Away,
Uninterested in this Loathsome Lothario,
Who Lives Through Iron,
Not Fire.
Down, down like Blistering Phaeton I Fall,
Like the last Hair on my Head,
Like the Last Crap from my Dog.
Indebted to best-selling poet Billy Corgan.
And your mama.
2 comments:
Eagerly awaited, this new installment of Gordo's Magnum Opus "Fear" does not disappoint. Here we have invocation of figures of Greek mythology, expanding the universe of "Fear"'s characters and lending an air of erudition and refinement that, according to The New Yorker, was "sorely lacking" in the original. The pun on "six-pack" will no doubt prove especially delicious and intoxicating to the poet's hard-core fans.
Ruminating fondly upon past encounters with Aphrodite's offspring and their skills in fellatio, the speaker continues his litany of grief and loss, pitying himself woefully in the central part of the poem as these Daughters rebuff him. In a clever turnabout, the Sun, normally a hopeful metaphor, here is in decline, and again hair loss returns as a prominent theme as the piece moves toward its closure.
The final image is a stunning one that betrays a diabolical intelligence -- for what dog is it who feces does not fertilize, but symbolize the speaker's imminent demise? It is well known that Christ' dog, Ezekiel, spent his short life foregoing defecation. Is it Cerebus?-- and yet no mention of multiple heads, no mention of heads at all in fact. It is tantalizing to hypothesize that the speaker's canine could well be that other Greek. I speak of course of Pluto.
Absofuckinglutely!
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