I have no idea what this poem is about. I’ve read this many times, and laughed many times. But if this poem is a commentary on anything, then it’s the seriousness we take history.
Automatically though, there are so many allusions in the title so I feel like I’m missing a lot that the internet cannot provide. Is Treasures of the CIA Museum a book which I cannot find. Why the mention of Hitler Kramer, someone who wrote about the Avant-Garde, and/or Jerszy Kosinski? Also when did Random House/IBM merge together and what is the significance in 1984.
Welp, this is what we get with the first stanza:
What falls from the drunken pliers of my nose
President-pit pope-rind police-bone
Is all they got on this fucking menu
Always the pure provend of more more more
Surreal images along with alliterative play with an angry tone? Also the subject is centered around the play and there’s no singular direction. I find this funny.
This piss tease of masterpiece ass
The missionary position is there to catch you
If you drip off that mosquito plaque I guess
Gumming a gift horse’s defectual innocence
I think for me, the tone is what changes most in this poem, as well as some focus. The tone turns with “I guess” in the middle of such surreal lines. Just as a note — each line has a surreal image or play with an individual make up. Furthermore, with no punctuation in this poem, this feels more like a found poem than anything to elucidate the strength and disparity in the connective tissues. Where else would someone find “Piss tease of masterpiece ass”?
The gunfire in the hills is old and I
am one pile of shit which will never excrete a human
Hey Parliament Congress Politburo
I was surprised that “Politburo” is an actual word. But now we get into the political with the last line. The previous two lines though…that image is burned into my mind which can never perish.
My cock/my KGB has it on lasertape
The moon posing between the horns of a bull
Two hymens touching through milk.
I had to double check my definition of hymen again. Yup, it’s what I remembered. The only connective thread I can make is, well, the sexual allusions that are more talk than action — a sort of play — then the undertone of something political that seems suppressed. The gold plating — the play, the skeleton (or frame) apparent but not truly seen underneath? Yeah, my analysis is not so good for this poem.