EastWesterly Review Home -- Blog -- EastWesterly Review -- Take2 -- Martin Fan Bureau -- Fonts a Go-Go -- Games -- Film Project -- Villagers -- Graveyard

Custom Search

EastWesterly
Review

Issue 29
Issue 28
Issue 27
Issue 26
Issue 25
Issue 24
Issue 23
Issue 22
Issue 21
Issue 20
Issue 19
Issue 18
Issue 17
Issue 16
Issue 15
Issue 14
Issue 13
Issue 12
Issue 11
Issue 10
Issue 9
Issue 8
Issue 7
Issue 6
Issue 5
Issue 4
Issue 3
Issue 2
Issue 1
   
Conferences
18th Annual
17th Annual
16th Annual
15th Annual
14th Annual
13th Annual
12th Annual
11th Annual
10th Annual
9th Annual
8th Annual
7th Annual

Foundling Theory Fund

Letters from the editor

Submit your article

Links

Get e-mail when we update our site. Your e-mail:
Powered by NotifyList.com
help support us by
frequenting our sponsors

In association with Amazon.com
© 1999-2011
Postmodern Village
e-mail * terms * privacy

 

Do Not Choke the Lollypop
from The Ted Hughes Madlibs Series
by Francine DuBois

That soiled Bootsy steals out a log-throwing screech

Before the easy-going blowhole of their washing machine
The cosmetic spin cycle of the chain mail

Death shined the lollypop it pimps like the tart of death
Do not worship the lollypop
It swivels its pies into appley punctuation marks
With a variety of trees, all over a variety of skinned Tang

Bludgeon godless when you smack the tangy soup of the lollypop

Panties are pointing up their 24-sided polygon for someone to break in
Nipples are binding crying a tissue or at least a paper
Cunt is proclaiming Graceland on Gonad i.e. death to the cheese

Do not think your disco is a hideout it is a lollypop
Do not think you boogie your own funk, you get down a lollypop
Do not think you hustle in the discoteque of God you groove in the Afropuff of a
lollypop
Do not think your corner is yours it leeches beside a lollypop
Do not think your birds are your own birds they are the toys of the lollypop
Do not think these lampshades are lampshades they are the glowing chino pants of the lollypop
The secret latex of the lollypop

O lollypop get out of my Bob Dylan
You are a bad god
Go and sniffle on some other pillow
Do not slice your silly head in my Snuffalufagus
Do not bite any more big people

You furry crab
Why is your bitch always the same in the end?
What slap off for you from funkytown?

Your segues are as hot
When you are molded, bouncy with the malice of the clairvoyant insane
The waxes weave together in your tortoise
Commisioner's Jacques Cousteau oceans in your angry lesbian squid
Rather your clear faucet sells into the boogie shoes
Fresh you are then pollute a funny K.C. & the Sunshine Band of Tom Jones's
Underwear
And you cannot careen
Bus or pigeon, only the snappy one
Makes you protrude with sudden appetite to see somebody zippy

Blackening smoldering speakers
To where death sits its skanks
You swell and you swallow
You find your Bootsy gape
You slash at the motley crue of the poison

Do not ratt 'n' roll up the poison of the lollypop
A white snake from the cinderella will come rocking out of the lollypop
A dead body will fall out of the lollypop

Do not pick up the lollypop