October 28th, 2009 / 9:16 am
Behind the Scenes & Craft Notes

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.

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18 Comments

  1. Sean

      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

  2. Sean

      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

  3. Sean

      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–

  4. Sean

      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–

  5. Sean

      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.

  6. Sean

      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.

  7. Rauan Klassnik

      nice, but do you have any longer pieces??

  8. Rauan Klassnik

      nice, but do you have any longer pieces??

  9. Michael James

      i feel sick

  10. Michael James

      i feel sick

  11. Phoebe

      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!

  12. Phoebe

      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!

  13. Ross Brighton

      Fucking bourgeoisie. Bring on the gulags.

  14. Ross Brighton

      Fucking bourgeoisie. Bring on the gulags.

  15. Jesse Tangen-Mills

      Grin(go)s!

  16. Jesse Tangen-Mills

      Grin(go)s!

  17. Hardy

      I feel more than sick! Is it swine-flu?

  18. Hardy

      I feel more than sick! Is it swine-flu?