The Stupid Fucking “Tourist-Castle” Poem
The Tourist-Castle Poet Takes it !! (phase 1 of proposed torture)
I hate, I hate, I hate, I just fucking hate the stupid fucking Tourist-Castle poem.
Yes, I’ve just had it with this retarded, anemic variety of the Tourist poem. Almost all Tourist or Travel poems suck. But this one’s got super-human suction lips!
This poem is where some jackoff tourist (I borrow the word jackoff from Ted Berrigan talking about Irish Jackoffs trying to be radio waves at a St. Patrick’s Day parade), sits at a cafe or a park by a castle. Feels a glow. At peace. The most wonderful beautiful feeling ever. Like someone discovering the magic of sex. But worse! And then just has to write it down. In their notebook. Or, worse, on a napkin. Blah, blah.
These scourge poems invariably are titled something like:
“Lines Written at the Cafe Twimbledon across from the Castle Twimbledon, Twimbledon, Scotland, March 4, 2004” ……..(and if the poem WAS written on a napkin that makes it into the title too!
These poems are inevitable. Drop a novice poet in a foreign country and he’ll find a castle in two fucking seconds and the poem will be written, effortlessly, magically, on the spot (O Scourge!) and foisted on to some adoring public in some shitass review full of beautiful glowing Tourist-Castle poems. I’m just waiting for a review called The Tourist-Castle Review so I can bomb their fucking cars and offices.
Berrigan liked to beat people up. He liked Michaux for this same reason. I invoke you both now gentlemen: your fists and your swords and your delicate medieval torture instruments. And let’s push these fucking tourist poets down into the basements of the castles they so glowingly and sickeningly sang about. And let’s rack them and sack them and quarter them and make them eat thousands and thousands of Tourist-Castle Poems. And let’s suck the bowels from their asses with contraptions built especially for the purpose. Or, for lack of availability or simply for variety, a starving street rat.
Tags: berrigan, michaux, torture
Our Precluded Garden
Come with me through the garden of flowers flouring past the gates,
Have you forgotten the destination, are you now only consumed with mistakes?
I have here a story but I lost the last page,
Can you rewrite it for me as we slither through this maze?
Once this garden was made with plastic and people thought it great,
But they never knew that the garden was but fake.
Now everything is natural but the flowers grow wild,
Will a stranger chop them up and steal them this time.
Someday the garden is drowned with water,
Other times it pierces its head high,
Her land is not scorched like other lands.
But she may well just die.
All that remains now is a garden,
But nobody rescues her abode,
She is left surrounded by weeds,
By vegetation now untold.
Is our future written in books and tales?
Our deficiencies crafted in stone,
Is our simple garden domed?
Or has she more flowers within her hold?
By Crazygirl
Our Precluded Garden
Come with me through the garden of flowers flouring past the gates,
Have you forgotten the destination, are you now only consumed with mistakes?
I have here a story but I lost the last page,
Can you rewrite it for me as we slither through this maze?
Once this garden was made with plastic and people thought it great,
But they never knew that the garden was but fake.
Now everything is natural but the flowers grow wild,
Will a stranger chop them up and steal them this time.
Someday the garden is drowned with water,
Other times it pierces its head high,
Her land is not scorched like other lands.
But she may well just die.
All that remains now is a garden,
But nobody rescues her abode,
She is left surrounded by weeds,
By vegetation now untold.
Is our future written in books and tales?
Our deficiencies crafted in stone,
Is our simple garden domed?
Or has she more flowers within her hold?
By Crazygirl
Higi, Maryalison
my family “vacation”
Our family was camping near the sea,
When we discovered we were being watched by an enraged bee.
The bee was furious; the bee was provoking,
And let me tell you, this bee was not joking!
Our hiking experience was the most unpleasant of all.
At the top of the hill, I forgot my lovely old doll.
On the way back I learned a most important lesson–
Higi, Maryalison
my family “vacation”
Our family was camping near the sea,
When we discovered we were being watched by an enraged bee.
The bee was furious; the bee was provoking,
And let me tell you, this bee was not joking!
Our hiking experience was the most unpleasant of all.
At the top of the hill, I forgot my lovely old doll.
On the way back I learned a most important lesson–
The Ode to Jules and Rudi
By Gayle Wells.
Bonsoir Madam Julie,
We’re here to say “Thanks”
And also Monsieur Rudi,
Who has driven the tank.
You picked us up in London
Early Sunday morn.
Our initial anxious feelings
Were very quickly gone.
You made us feel so welcome
As we started on our way
Thank god for you Queen Julie
We all say ‘Hip Hooray”
On the ferry past the cliffs
To Calais, France we went
For 12 nights on the Continent
On our adventure we were sent.
We didn’t know the history
Of the countries we explored
But you got us through to ‘disembark’
Through the front and the back doors.
If we suffered TGE we were told
Just turn around see where we came from
……..Situation solved.
“Ooh LaLa” is what you said
As we went our merry way.
Through Belgium into Brussels
The first night we would stay.
Gootentag to Germany
Down the river we cruised
The little towns and castles
No sticks to make you bruised.
To Heidelberg and Rhinefalls
Our journey took us then
We learned so much about it
In our journals we would pen.
The Black Forest of Deutschland
And down past Titisee.
The friendships we were building
Was wonderful to see.
Through stunning ‘neutral’ Switzerland
The sunflowers were in bloom.
To Lucerne and Mt. Pilatus
We nearly touched the moon.
You reassured the scaredy cats
On the cable cars that day.
They overcame their fear at once
An achievement they had made.
We saw the Alps, We left the Alps
To Italy we sought.
Loads of beautiful countryside
Fake bags to be bought.
To Venice and the gondolas
Basilica and Square.
What a wonderful experience
To see Sir Elton there.
Off we ventured through the hills
Of Tuscany to Rome.
The wonderment of this great city
Made us sigh and moan.
The reservation you had made
Got us 3rd in line for Vatican City
The other tours were not so lucky
I’m sure they were quite shitty.
You lined up in the heat of Rome
For the Colleseum.
We walked right in with Ugo
Loads of photos were taken.
We walked around the streets of Rome
Each corner a story to be told.
Pizza, pasta, gelati, artwork
Gypsys acting bold.
Up to Florence back through the hills
To David we were taken.
Churches, sculptures everywhere
It was impressive, no mistaking.
To Montecantini,
A nice little town.
The boy’s push ups
Nearly made the roof fall down.
Another early start
Off to Pisa we then went
To hold up the tower with our hands
Remember move the camera not them.
Aeound to Cote d’Azur we toured
Counting tunnels all the way.
We dreamed of winning lotto
So we could be spoiled there one day.
Magnificent views of the Mediterranean Sea
Prince Albert waiting there.
40million pounds for a lovely she… or he
And hopefully an heir.
Around to Nice, past villas
Cruise ships, gorgeous boats
We loved the views and scenery
We nearly planned our own revolt.
Brangellina’s twins were born in Nice
We were there you could say
The lights went out at dinner
And we all sang “Happy Birthday”
We all were there to celebrate
Bastille Day with the French.
Bonjour, Merci, Ooh La la
Au Revoir everybody said.
Onto Lyon through Avignon
We saw fi-fis and foo-foos
We dodged them all, on our way
To another Autogrille to pay for the loos.
Gay Paris awaiting
Up the tower you took us
12 nights on the Continent
Nothing was a fuss.
No one was evil
Or lost their minds
Nobody was growly,
You and Rudi, oh so kind
We saw the sights,
A spider bites
You were lucky, Jules
There were no fights.
For many of us this was our first
Trafalgar tour to take,
For Nicol 27 of them
An amazing feat we’ll never make.
So write that book, watch the world go by
So much fun was had by all.
We would laugh till we cried, even played cards
Julie, you made some great calls.
I ask you now to close your eyes
And look at Vincent’s stars.
Look back on your own highlights
Of the European Accent tour.
As you open your eyes look around
At the people you have met.
To our gracious, beautiful Julie
You and Rudi we’ll never forget.
We’ve learned about Europe
To be tolerant.
It is never wrong
Just different.
We salute you, we thank you
Merci, Gratsious and Farewell.
May we meet again in the lobby
Of another nice hotel.
We’ll get back home, look back and remember
And have loads of stories to tell.
Thank the ‘Rain Gods we had Julie
And didn’t have Michelle.
With Love to you all.
The Ode to Jules and Rudi
By Gayle Wells.
Bonsoir Madam Julie,
We’re here to say “Thanks”
And also Monsieur Rudi,
Who has driven the tank.
You picked us up in London
Early Sunday morn.
Our initial anxious feelings
Were very quickly gone.
You made us feel so welcome
As we started on our way
Thank god for you Queen Julie
We all say ‘Hip Hooray”
On the ferry past the cliffs
To Calais, France we went
For 12 nights on the Continent
On our adventure we were sent.
We didn’t know the history
Of the countries we explored
But you got us through to ‘disembark’
Through the front and the back doors.
If we suffered TGE we were told
Just turn around see where we came from
……..Situation solved.
“Ooh LaLa” is what you said
As we went our merry way.
Through Belgium into Brussels
The first night we would stay.
Gootentag to Germany
Down the river we cruised
The little towns and castles
No sticks to make you bruised.
To Heidelberg and Rhinefalls
Our journey took us then
We learned so much about it
In our journals we would pen.
The Black Forest of Deutschland
And down past Titisee.
The friendships we were building
Was wonderful to see.
Through stunning ‘neutral’ Switzerland
The sunflowers were in bloom.
To Lucerne and Mt. Pilatus
We nearly touched the moon.
You reassured the scaredy cats
On the cable cars that day.
They overcame their fear at once
An achievement they had made.
We saw the Alps, We left the Alps
To Italy we sought.
Loads of beautiful countryside
Fake bags to be bought.
To Venice and the gondolas
Basilica and Square.
What a wonderful experience
To see Sir Elton there.
Off we ventured through the hills
Of Tuscany to Rome.
The wonderment of this great city
Made us sigh and moan.
The reservation you had made
Got us 3rd in line for Vatican City
The other tours were not so lucky
I’m sure they were quite shitty.
You lined up in the heat of Rome
For the Colleseum.
We walked right in with Ugo
Loads of photos were taken.
We walked around the streets of Rome
Each corner a story to be told.
Pizza, pasta, gelati, artwork
Gypsys acting bold.
Up to Florence back through the hills
To David we were taken.
Churches, sculptures everywhere
It was impressive, no mistaking.
To Montecantini,
A nice little town.
The boy’s push ups
Nearly made the roof fall down.
Another early start
Off to Pisa we then went
To hold up the tower with our hands
Remember move the camera not them.
Aeound to Cote d’Azur we toured
Counting tunnels all the way.
We dreamed of winning lotto
So we could be spoiled there one day.
Magnificent views of the Mediterranean Sea
Prince Albert waiting there.
40million pounds for a lovely she… or he
And hopefully an heir.
Around to Nice, past villas
Cruise ships, gorgeous boats
We loved the views and scenery
We nearly planned our own revolt.
Brangellina’s twins were born in Nice
We were there you could say
The lights went out at dinner
And we all sang “Happy Birthday”
We all were there to celebrate
Bastille Day with the French.
Bonjour, Merci, Ooh La la
Au Revoir everybody said.
Onto Lyon through Avignon
We saw fi-fis and foo-foos
We dodged them all, on our way
To another Autogrille to pay for the loos.
Gay Paris awaiting
Up the tower you took us
12 nights on the Continent
Nothing was a fuss.
No one was evil
Or lost their minds
Nobody was growly,
You and Rudi, oh so kind
We saw the sights,
A spider bites
You were lucky, Jules
There were no fights.
For many of us this was our first
Trafalgar tour to take,
For Nicol 27 of them
An amazing feat we’ll never make.
So write that book, watch the world go by
So much fun was had by all.
We would laugh till we cried, even played cards
Julie, you made some great calls.
I ask you now to close your eyes
And look at Vincent’s stars.
Look back on your own highlights
Of the European Accent tour.
As you open your eyes look around
At the people you have met.
To our gracious, beautiful Julie
You and Rudi we’ll never forget.
We’ve learned about Europe
To be tolerant.
It is never wrong
Just different.
We salute you, we thank you
Merci, Gratsious and Farewell.
May we meet again in the lobby
Of another nice hotel.
We’ll get back home, look back and remember
And have loads of stories to tell.
Thank the ‘Rain Gods we had Julie
And didn’t have Michelle.
With Love to you all.
nice, but do you have any longer pieces??
nice, but do you have any longer pieces??
i feel sick
i feel sick
Yes! Thank you! I got so sick of “study abroad” poems in my workshops. Probably on account of my being too poor to do so while in college, but WHATEVER!
Yes! Thank you! I got so sick of “study abroad” poems in my workshops. Probably on account of my being too poor to do so while in college, but WHATEVER!
Fucking bourgeoisie. Bring on the gulags.
Fucking bourgeoisie. Bring on the gulags.
Grin(go)s!
Grin(go)s!
I feel more than sick! Is it swine-flu?
I feel more than sick! Is it swine-flu?