Carry on Plan Bee (The Farce)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on April 24, 2021 @ 12:26 pm

Parmesan Parmenides
‘Ooh, Matron!
You are a one’



Well, what would I
Or anyone else
For that mutter
Be?

If not a one?
Fragmented?
Tormented?

Prometheus
Without an umbrella
Against the Eagle,
Later to be pecked by pigeons.



No! My dear Heloise
Who married a Tristan, mistaking
Him for an Abelard
Or Attis



Your daughter
Freya’d at the edges
Her son,
The want to be blacksmith
And her partner, Papa Wodin
recognised her 
father as Loki



These things skip generations



Her partner, Wodin,
his sister
youngest of a triarchy
of Grandmother,
Mother and Daughter
Called her brother
‘Smelly'
Throughout their 
sibling rivalry



Something Freya
Called her husband
as well.



But Papa Wodin
Has left,
He was removed 
And she mourns him
Grieves for him
And wishes to go 
Hunting again
To find him



Leaving her 
Smelly demon servant
Papa Murmur
To guard the house
Of love.

Whilst she hunts.

I, the erki factory demon
Have been cooking up a 
Soup terrone 
For my family



Having escaped the
Trojan Wars 
With the sons of 
Aeneas



I came here
To these islands
over 3000 years ago



Having previously both served
Cybele
And having
taken Asheharah 
And taken her
Shopping in Ur
With her Akkadian tablets



Knowing the potential
Beauty of the Ur-Klang
Echo
Of decent rhetoric
Sprung from
the gossipry of women



As did Aphrodite
And the 50
Husband murderers



Moaning with their captured lovers
As I listened to the honeyed 
Murmur
Of their passion

Hence I earned my name.



But these days
like the capital behind 
Manchester's 
Industrial Revolution



I brew my
Sinister wart
In a 
Dutch Oven



Hubble Bubble 
Toil and telescope



Who taught 
Lent to dance
With Venus
Into Trouble now
Thinking he was 
In control

Percolator!

Pericles came
later



Just 
A partial
Two
On the One


Quibbles and
Anne Tribbles

Tyche demands!

From Ur upstairs
Rock On
Aegis
Of Yore
Labour Time



So here’s
Some Autonomist
Shit posting
From Il Postino



In an Orgia Bush
Pagan Urbane
Villain of the Peace
Court Nie
Al Coatis
Raccoon
Deputy Dawg
Fore yaw
Dumpster



Look Who’s
Talking
Baby inn
The corner
Of the 
Merz Bow 
Of the Ship



Like Houdini
Bane of 
Shit Metaphyiscal
NLP



Through the keyhole
Grand Unintelligent Designs



Who put that
Fucking Moth
Who Can’t Ever
Bee Wrong
In charge of the 
Titanic



Heading for the
Wrong Hive
Yet Again
But U-Turns less
Than fucking Thatcher



And who the fuck
Put that lighthouse
On that
Fucking iceberg
Of PhD level
Knowledge?



That only a will
Of Bertrand Russell
1935 genuine article
proportions
Could seriously
Think faith driven
ipse dixits
Could disprove 
Such historically
submerged
and subterranean
low theory
discourse?



None but
"The Stupid"
Captain Moth
Trying to wrest control
From Acoetes
of Aphrodite's
Gubernaculum



Insisting on the safety
in those 
Who refuse no?



Denial that a crisis of
capitalism
predicated on negative liberty
Can’t be fascist

When they want to 
Make themselves
A nervous state
of exception
With a right to entry 
As a positive liberty
That then negates
All said negative liberty
of the bare life
of the house of love

That said no to their 
narrower interpretation
Without the empirical aspect
of the reality testing
of hypostasis
For their lebensraum
Need to convert 
to a puddle
Metaphysics
that capitulates
To a totalitarian
patriarchy



Having had their ability
To learn to learn
Foreshortened.
Mistaking
Stockholm Syndrome
To a history
of domestic abuse



For the sublime.



Leaving them to 
Join the men
Hunting the Snark
In a non-place



Rule 42
Versus
Rule  三 四
Of the House of Love


Fucking Spies!
All they Need 
Is a Push kin.



Leave us bee
With our honey
Our orchard
And Queen Aphrodite



I Papa Murmur
Am yet to get paid



But I am devoted
To the most beautiful
Sound in the world

Her moan.


I’m the
Scooby Doo
The Great Dane



Supporting her
Every day
Hold Ups
Rubber Queen
Holy Coyne



While her 
Husband Wodin
Is Away at
The Dwarves Wedding 



Due back in 
3000 years



Meanwhile
I clean up



So I get
The Record 
Level off
Production



Yes!
I have
Bee Spoken
Hel Yeah!
Selectah!



I Otta of the Rota
The ‘Obey Her’ Man
The άλφα волк
Of the Mutter land


So moat this bee!


Boom 
Wa Dis?
Sonic Boom
Diremption
Times



Ne’er
A Cryptic
Cross Word
Vinyl
Solution



Multiplicitease
INVITE ONLY!
Just
4 我


Apart from
The Chef
Who serves



And the occasional
Table Wands
(No, he who denies
the right to say no
Who thinks this call 
Is for you.
Who only wants it 
Your Way.
This...

Is definitely
Not 
For you)


I am
Soon To
Be
Deicided



Trouble with 
Lent and Venus
At the end of history
The dialectics
And just semantics
of patrimony 
and matrimony



Would the overdetermination
of an antithesis to
patriarchy
Be a return to 
Matriarchy?



It’s been
A few thousand
Years now.



Look
At the handling
Of Covid-19



Betty’s gonna
Be your bodyguard
No time for
fragile egos
No time to cry



Except for the 
memories
Of the Dalit
Soul Eaters
Incorporated
In our instrument
our X23



But the Gimel’s
Hoard hound
Keeps Chasing 
Her tail



Demeter
Persephone
Tom O’Bedlam



And as I 
Serve
Another repas
For the Bosswomen
Doing it for themselves



And as I clean up
The last of 
The Pi
Eternally Recurring



I who have yet
To be paid
Get my
Just desserts



…and then
upon her alter
the goldstone
she tops me

In our happiest bliss


Coming last
At the last
With my final
Death spasm
Jissum
Deep within
Her 
Preoccupiedations



As the vibe
Finally arrives



Leaving her
As Queen of the mòr
And me 
As Just
An
Othered Victim



My fragmented body
Scattered to the seas
the realm of Neptune



Only one 
last part 
of me
kept in a jar


By her
For post error teas



As she goes on
After the Final Battle
To Rule 
for another 
3000 years



And Once More
This Time
Her husband
A Happy Ghost
Coyne
я ем
Therefore
I am

And Bye
No means
No
Mister Miso
Jinn
East, South, North and West
Unless You
Accept Her
As Better than
You
Or I

As she was
In the
Beginning
So shall She
Cum
Better
Than You

And so she can

When you like a
Sovereign coyne age
are merely spent and
Done

She goes
On and on and on and on

This is not the End!




















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image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace