Two poems                                                                        by Joe Pachinko (courtesy of the ULA Adventures blog) IF ANYBODY SAYS “POETRY”, RUN THE OTHER WAY... Just because nobody understands you it doesn’t mean you’re an artist. Being able to write words down on paper doesn’t make you a poet. Knowing two and 1/2 chords on the guitar doesn’t make you a musician. Open mike reading, they’ll sit through 17 other poets to get up and read their own stuff, having listened to none of the others, wanting only to hear their own voice through the mike, not realizing how similiar their shit is to everybody else’s. Always reading in this special voice, as if explaining to a somewhat dull child something which the child couldn’t possibly know anything about. They have nothing to say, & they say it badly. In one of two moods, serious, self-righteous, & really serious. I know people think “If I can’t understand it, it must really mean something.” But it’s unintelligible crap, that’s all. It doesn’t move me. It makes me want to leave, or sleep. or slap them until they find something worth saying. Poetry is touching the sun with your brain, or shooting sparks out of your ears, or having Balinesian Dancing girls twirling off the end of your tongue, an orgasm of words... but it sure as shit ain’t this. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX INGA MUSCIO MON AMOUR The day that began so bright & full of promise but which ended with a used tampon on the beach near the corpse of a dead sea lion... Now most people who read/hear that, instead of thinking; “What the hell is a used tampon doing on the beach? Did it wash up there? Did somebody throw it off a ship? Why is it near a dead sea lion? Does it have something to do with why the sea lion died? Does it mean something?” Instead of thinking that, or anything, all they read/hear is “Blah blah blah blah blah & blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah used tampon, blah blah blah blah blah.” The same thing happens every time I use the word “cunt.” I suppose if I used the French word for cunt that would be O.K., more refined, but I don’t know the French word for cunt. So I use the word cunt, and people take it out of context. They don’t hear the hallelujah of cunt, the blessings of cunt, the worship of cunt, the beauty & the wonder of cunt. the power & the glory & the endless cloud kissing hosanna of cunt... They hear “Blah blah blah cunt, blah blah & blah blah blah cunt.” & miss the god damn point. I don’t think cunt is a bad word. It’s all the way in which it’s used. & while we’re at it why is the word ‘fuck’ used as an insult? Empress Aleshia gets drunk, asks me, “Why do you hate women so much?” “I don’t hate women,” I reply, “I love women.” “I heard you using that “C” word. Why would you use that word if you didn’t hate women?” she asks. “Did you hear any of the other words connected with it?” I ask. “No, no, listen baby, I went through so much trouble to get one I don’t want to hear anybody talkin’ trash about it.” “I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to get one too.” I say. “That’s not what I mean,” she says. “So,” she drawls, “why do you hate women so much?” “I don’t hate women,” I answer, “I hate everybody.” “Well, that’s alright then baby.” Inga Muscio thinks that cunt is a beautiful word, & I agree. Now she wouldn’t like my agreeing with her because I’m a man. Still, I think cunt is a poem unto itself. & all I have to say to people who don’t understand that is “Blah blah blah blah blah blah used tampon blah blah blah cunt blah blah blah blah blah ba blah blah blah fuck you.” xxxxx http://www.superstitionstreet.com/