Dead Poets Society: Wesleyan University Chapter

Tooth Decay

Aluminum
Is not a metal
It’s a drug
It’s not a metal
It’s better than sex
My doctor dentist said my tongue could go permanently numb
Cavities
Suck
Seeds of darkness
What a fuck

And where’s my dentist today?
He discriminates against my black teeth
Off in his fancy dentist stool, white coat like a
Eggshell, with a chicken fetus, formed, but dead

On weekends he plays gold in his purple polo shirt
I don’t bend it like my dentist
He’s addicted to aluminum
What happened to space?

He tells me I drank too much rum
My jaw is
Toothpaste
is like condoms for the teeth
I don’t think my dentist, Dr. Stevens, brushes his teeth

I’ll make his tongue numb, dam nit.
His head is a perfect orb
I want some plaque
Don’t fill my cavities
What happened to beauty?

Its so full of depravities.
We’ve got igloos in your cottonmouth, gal.
And there’s Eskimos in them.

This is what happen to space and beauty.
They were encased in aluminum by Dr. Stevens
Just like me.
Now I fight my aluminum habit
Its such a beautiful transition metal
Just like crazy fingers
The cat is boiling the kettle
Made out of not-metal
An aluminum bong
This appointment is taking long.
Dr. Stevens drills my teeth out with his aluminum dildo
This kills, oh!
Don’t stop, go!
Aluminum doesn’t glow
It comes and goes
With my afros

And I wait for all the other patients in Dr. Steven waiting room he sings songs of letters and numbers and words and I think to myself, how is this office made, and what a wonderful world.

Emergency Tracheotomy

the sheet rock breaks
the skylight tumbles to the floor
he was on steroids
the grandma yells out
“Help!”
she can’t breathe
a jar of steroids fell on her
glass loges in her neck
chemical attempt to make her
bulky
and
she gets stronger, slightly
she punches the sheetrock
she runs for governor
under the campaign slogan
“Down with Sheetrock!”
and
“Down With Light!”
I am the Roidanator
(this means she does a lot of steroids)
maybe she has a small penis
she walks in the darkness
and the darkness walks in her
she hands out werthers originals to
little children
wertheriods
(this means she puts steroids in the candy)
ever since the skylight fell
the pumpkins been on fire
the fire rises
burning brighter in her eyes
with the absence of light
and
with the absence of the presence of light
shadows cast by her twitching tendons
made of chocolate
made of sheetrock
made of deer skills
and
in the end, nothing can save her
except
an emergency tracheotomy

Filthy Laundry
By Fielding "Spank Me" Hong

Its like a monster that lives
Under my bed
Teasing me
Tempting me
Wanting me wash it

But no, I have too much homework
I have to read mindless boring shit about someone I don’t care about.

But fuck you
I have to say
I can live it with it another day
What do you have to say to that, laundry?

I will just keep on getting dirtier and dirtier.
I will continue to infest the room with this

Damp snow
The kind of snow that gets into your grandfathers shoe
And stays there
Because he doesn’t like to take our his Dr. Steven’s therapeutic pads
Cause he has grown accustomed to them.

So I sit there, looking at the computer screen
Waiting to fight with the filth that
Lies under my bed.

Mushu
By Vincent "SJB Master" Vecchione

At its most sublime peak
Not quite so fresh
Yet best
When not
Indeed at most joys found
When given time to mature
A few days more
A few days less
Not so good
The Chinese food is best
One. Day. Old.

A Party At Beta
By Vincent "Not Victor" Vecchione

ballooning
bubbles
bursting with
bubble gum
bubblingly
boils
by the
bay
barking
bitches at the
beach
bye
bye.

antiflow

make me do it again
roll over
cause your words aren’t saying anything
we’ll suck together

Butterflies and Masturbation

Those are some hot petals
Petals
Petals
Petals
Spreading out before me
Young buds

Its springtime
And the Lego colored flowers are in bloom

No birds or bees this season
Just butterflies
And buds
And dog poop on the streets
And masturbation

Stroke my petals
And watch the little girls go by in line

Pedophilic Petals
With protruding proboscis

She cried out
Stick your pistol in my stamen
The reversal of genders
It doesn’t sound right any other way

PART II, The Butterflies

Float from flower to flower
In a nonsexual manner
The buzzing and beating of wings
Butterflies lacking sex drives
They are not shy in public

They flaunt their colorful wings
Flushed with passion
Red and orange and yellow
Beating faster
And faster
And faster and faster
Until they could go no faster
And faster
And then the winds of their own impatience began to carry them

If a masturbating butterfly in Africa beats its wings,
Does it cause Sam’s roommate to masturbate?

PART III, The boys in the hood

“Have you been using the rubbers I gave you?”
No, I haven’t had the chance
I should use them to catch butterflies

This is where is all comes together
This goes out to all my homiez
Who died trying to find the good bud
I wanna give a shout out to all my homiez
My pollinating friends of passion
They spread the petals, they spread the words

And the Butterfly finished.
its flight.

A Day in the LiveZ

I woke up 10 minutes late this morning.
I got up and Tom was in my room.
I had a nonsense class over the internet today.
I had a nonsense class over the internet today.
I raped my Italian exam.
Breakfast at the campus center.

I cut.
Met at the campus center for dinner.
Oh god, what did I have for dinner?
Up on the roof.
Drunken essays are so much fun.

We read.
I went to the president’s soiree today.
Confused my am’s and pm’s.
Today was a good day.
I had some awkward conversations with my roommate.
What’s chi?

Awkward conversations continue.
I read the news.
Oh boy.
Oh Gawd, that was good.
Wood springs from earth.
He said he missed me.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

That’s pretty long.
Mte druids.
I questioned what to do, but found no answers.
I got some chubby hubby.
Elisabeth was a hottie, a red head, oh yeah.
The queen, I mean.

We waited for rain.
Had philosophy class.
But none came.

The Fez

The time will come when you’ll be sad
The time will come when we won’t have to steal lines from books
And she smiled
I have a hat
Thank god for that.

It was really cold and wet.

Rolling thunder
or how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb

there is no punctuation in poetry
what are you kidding me
unless you want it there.

shut up you bastards!!!
quiet down

that would be retarded, never mind.
with a period at the end?

oh no.

i refuse all periods, commas semi colons

I REFUSE ALL PUNCUATION EXCLIMATION EXCLAMATION EXCLAMATION

do not italicize me in the margins of your strange love

i am bold
like the courier, new
from the post office
at the times of new romans

through rain snow sleet and colon:

Scrotum
My mind on my money and my money on my mind

It was a black, jack day
All cards on the table
Everyone's anti was up

Except for the old lady in the corner
Who refused to play
Tired
Desolate
Watching from the outside
She understood poor
Ly
Counting her coins

Fingers tripping slowly over each one
With one eye leering at the players in the table

Luck a distant memory
From days gone by

You lost,
You lost.

Everything that meant everything

But then it all changed very quickly
Into something better she hoped.

The other eye sleeping
She spyed something amazing

A sack of money fell on her head
But not too hard
Like a feather, slowly

And the sack of money was her fate
A future not foreseen
Temporary blindness

Temporary insanity
Enjoy touching each aspect of her body overwhelming her
Like an orgasm
Except more subtle
And not sexual.

The joy of power ball tickets
And money
This greedy old hag
Who based her entire life around money
And black
Jacks
And pocket aces
Met her dreadful end
Under this sack of money.

Indeed.

A not so gentle sack of money.

Like a feather through the eye
A heavy father
Not like his sack.

Governor Von Pebbles

in memory of momentum
strong momentum
is nothing left of us

i speak
until the words run dry
funeral processions morning the lost of…
my cat

that’s not poetic
my late cat
the cat of my dreams
my love
my sorrow
(my feline sorrow)

he died
one night
too much momentum
goddamned physics
under the sheets
in a car

yeah sheets are definitely a metaphor for street
and car is a metaphor for big truck
keep on trucking
california governor
what a joke
Ahrnold

back to my cat
I blame it on Ahrnold
killed my children and my cat
with an axe
made out of pebbles
and socks
really big pebbles
but small socks
and plato
orange plato
and silly putty
yellow silly putty
silly putty of death

not that green silly putty

fuck that shit

so a guy walks into a bar
and it was the death of poetry

my cat liked my poetry
but it liked to die more

I think my poetry killed him
that’s because I wrote it on his fur
with a axe of pebbles
I am ahrnold
no your not
that’s what she said

i’m out of momentum
i’m out of memory
nut I can’t remember why

tired desolate
my hat hurts
my shoes are tied to my nostrils
and I don’t care
because I am pregnant
with Ahrnolds child

because I am a beauty queen
this is not poetry
this is lies all lies

this is the death of poetry man

i said Boo

bigger desolate hard ankles
with shoes made out of snow

my cat pebbles would understand this all

pebbles saw Plato my cat
and Socrates my lunch

my cat was really a dog
like Ahrnold
nice
he was not nice
my cat was

your cat was

MY CAT IS ME!!!?
I AM AHRNOLD!!!?

hear me roar
and scream
ahrmadillo

and that was the death of poetry.

Andreas Dyslexia

Carrot
So fast, so fast
Yawn, jiminy cricket
Speeding tickets, with read lights under the street.

Black light.

I don’t want to hear this
Sounds nice in theory
Communism
I like cheese
Voices
In my head keep going how
What voices?

Murmuring flowers
And sharp glass
The Pillsbury doughboy
He’s fat
Andreas fast
Phat, spelled with a P
Spelled with a Pete
Dan is full of anger
You’re all phonies
Sup Dan
What are you guys doing?

Poetry,
It’s artistic

How sweet is the couch in here.
Jubilation.

Calm down on that fucking keyboard man, I can type 60, but your doing like120

Do you guys want anything to eat or anything?

Chips ahoy
Carrots
Jubilation?

Thanks though

Yo, Will.

I am offering food to my fellow residents, man.

This is Will.

Dear pot night.
Dead poets society.

The lights are on.
No thery’re not

She is blazing her shit, man.
Are you guys in the roof at night?

How many dead poets does it take to screw in a light bulb?
They read through and shit, man.
That’s what I am talking about

Are you okay, Lisa?
Little hung over.
Hand slaps.
I think that’s pretty much enough.
Jubilation, double jubilation.

Parrots, pepper, pine trees, oh my.

The sounds of footsteps.
The sound of pine trees.
Are we going in a circle?

Around a tree
Oh.
My.
Yeah.
Ahhh you gotta keep going.

This is turning into crap.

“There are no lines,” she screamed into the darkness
howling with the peanut butter in her throat
but the parrots, not really chirping
but choking on peppers.
Fuck off you parrots,
you damn dirty parrots.

“Break the circle,” she screamed into the night
and then the night screamed back,
“Damn dirty parrots,
echoes are not unusual.”

“What happened to the peppers?”
said the parrot to his mother.

The parrot is stoned.
Isn’t that what they all stay?

“Pause” she screamed into the night.
What about being stoned?
It’s the quicker picker upper.
Falling off the ground like tear drops
like gravel on a roof.

What would parrot do?

“Caw caw caw,,” she screamed into the night
And the night answered back,
“I like gerbils.
And please, sir, refrain from any loud noise.
I am trying to watch TV.
The peppers are sleeping.

Will and Grace is on.”

“Fuck you,” said the parrot.

And once again the words are
Oh my
And
Parrot s, peppers and pine trees.

“You guys can’t really be up here.”

A Day In The Life of Pacman

munching
lots of dots
I feel the pull of the buttons.

I got the hots for miss Pacman
(or should it be Pacwoman?)

I feel the man coming down on me
they try to control me with their
hairy, ugly hands.
like s&m, I am their
Pacbitch as I
add things to my mouth.

from the magic Japanese lands
my name is Fifu not Pacman

the ghosts
is what I fear most
haunting my sushi dinners
if they catch me I’ll be toast

but I can fight back with my judo kick
when I get my hyper dot
the ghosts run like…
stupids.

my life is an a cappella techno song
forever echoing in my
tiny, limbless, circular
body.
meep, meep, meep.