понеділок, 3 липня 2017 р.

Carlo Parcelli - Wakey! Wakey! #6

Carlo Parcelli studied for many years with the Joyce/Wake scholar, Dr. Rudd Fleming, who translated Greek drama with Ezra Pound while Pound was incarcerated at St. Elizabeth’s hospital here in Washington DC. He has published two books in the style of Pound’s Cantos, ‘Three Antiphonies’ and ‘Fernparallelismus’. I have also published a series of 88 monologues, ‘The Gospel According to Simon Kananaios’ based on David Jones’ monologues of a Roman principalis in his volume ‘The Sleeping Lord’. I have a forthcoming epic poem about a fictitious First Century Roman cynic philosopher called ‘Canus Ictus in Exilium’ (Dog Bite in Exile).  My work, generally excerpted, has appeared in a number of journals and I have performed my work, especially ‘The Gospel’, at dozens of venues. I am currently an editor at FlashPoint magazine <http://www.flashpointmag.com/>, an online journal largely devoted to high-Modernist poetics.



(after  ‘Jaysus’ James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake)                                                       

O Ma Dammerung,  pluerile Anna Laffia
      In fleck of light a parsing funcy
           Drainx a gobblup a drams wif the stout Mr. Chumpty,
And not ta fun shun there be a bit a Frau licking
            By the frog lurking Herr between her Frare loins
                And it baget a right jhoice hose, Anna.
The Sighckle a Life, the Moor the Manny and the Pluerale.
        And the agin’ stat a flow Erin’s death
            Not yet literallalliezed but sunmirazed
        In prick a light that match the mucharoom.
The warvle is cumpartical with the nardle,
       And so Chumpty’s premate facia
Linguers. longhairs, alonghers. Wan Annon Laughia,
       Pure a bile, herswuite quivereign  shady loianes,
Kapt amonkgst the hallowest a OSSuaries.
      Puer ticklickshn Inay Lovia, runeing  her cherry orchid.
Her own hands through his wavy Haar giggled a bit,
      As again states obswearve her weigh pour chants
                    In a salver garbelet a sweet rut whine,
              Not ta buy the great be and be,
          And a blinket a Light come ta covet a crack in her lid.
And Rosey fingered Dawn,
             And Dawn dawdled Dayzie,
         Wan Annaliffey a wakes,  aroust
             By a cock to moarnin’ swound
          Of darpled drums with drizil on the Ygg in her cuntenance
             But nary a dasign of a sun berm or tainted glosses.
Nighn mounths ago, he bein’ the rouster,
        Humpty Chumpty torched her striumphent triangle
             Tween her harey hosannas.
   This bloody tombe, a caul to arms ta vivasecks Rombe.
          All to wakes what wakens to warn!
          A slave’s pity a basket borne.
          Fate to light that light might scorn
          And poets be a Samson shorn.
          From dawn Romy and Remi be torn
          To proper pisstollas a duelity for loren.
But from Keester ta Bollux,
         Reggie and Ron be as Shem and Shaun,
         But twogether insefferable as ta be part or pawn.
Abit beckintime, but not pillar opposerites like LIffykles and Hearekles,
         Spermed on by the aggeless urge, to sly a goast,
    Shim shammin’ by the light a the muon,
                 Gone fission by cauld fusion’s tort of a mad torque mutter,
            Our heross blanch the milky splash a Hera’s paps.
      The tale goes, so the wag doegs,
            Of the hossipedal born,    
The etunnell twins bare thrue, omfellows
           Meyerd in the bloody umbrelluckall Cord,
What a world a war be the muck a the meyerish
           And mick a sad Cord of a disdrosstful psyclops,
       Speaking Mundrawlin a his ungreatvall, mortil breather Quantun.
As able Cain plowts ta rue his slights ta hemphigher
       And sigher Meyer the Marier. 
Two knavery entailigents comb thru me garblelage
      Sayin’ get reaggie. Ya juzgado go to the whosegow.
          I’ll masque the questions here, Mr. Kray, ya macho freaker.
My dear Ronnie, where was ya on
     October forf, 19firtyfree
When the form a Sheets and Sweets,
        707 Bollocks Onyx was hubbled?
Me personables was in me requim muvver’s hang cups.
       Any whatnesses, Mr. Kray?
Only me bruvver, and a bloody uvver
           In the ol’ alley by and by and
       Out the barn door sole seekin’
Out me Hilly Muvver’s udders.
           What we squeeje frough
       Ta the uromora a rashers, sausages  and kidney pie.
What Ronnie and me be na more Can and Able       
          The unbiblical cord ne’r cut even ere unto
    The slug what rung out in the Bells.
       Nah like them guinea blokes,
             Ronulus and Regimus, Ron and me be as two peas in a pud;
       Not two R’s on a rood. Not a cross word between us.
Certain the occlashunall barney like them Cans Ass bruvvers,
       Oiligeeks Dave and Charlie
             Boxin’ wif the B. what accourt evernight on the playns Bill,
Twin yokels what haps zygot inta feistycuffs but
      At the country club, back hand fratricide be court side
             Wif their Fink Thanks and culparrote allgowith‘ems
And calve or calve nots, ice is the crustian.
                  It be but a black sigh up ta the strut a the wall
        What come between Romuless and Reamus
            Soon as wifout a ladder the latter leapt it
And wails of a the wall we here namore 
           Til Humpsea Dumpsea and the battle a Joracle.
I mean, Ronnie and me bofe relish our pound a flesh,
       Braized preferable, side a gravy,
                 Wif them little roasted potatoes
            If ya don’ mind, luv.
So that Cain cord a bean a green grocer
                For all we give a fuck.
And drain a cut ta the god
        What give the art a choke a good turn.
                It makes me blood boil tinkerin’
   When down the Blind Bugger pub
                After a clean keenin’ a Cornell
                       Ta advance the public weal,
         Them white chappies guffaw
                    And aye, Ronnie, drub queer and daft
               As cloven ta god his judgements be
                    Solomonized by halft.
Ovidian gods be but balloon toys,
                    All air and plastic.
What our clang wiffin’ Bow Bells undjure.
               Zeusological hardons, to ballish out on YourOpa!
       Ta mock Leda swoon and wet can Danae a goldman shower
                              To mount her banck.
Yet, me but a sample thug wif a potable mug,
       A knock off the old block,
               A criminal court a goddess, Frances, mine
       When David tagged me mug before the older Bailey got a shot.
Reg, we at the Billy Club not take ya ta be the sentimental sort.
                So ward ya stash the gear?
       What hear now, Link and Iddy flim-flammed their kin.
Pollcat and Keester, rustlin’ some Arcadian cattle,
       What the farmers’ mommumount be a litter a rubeye and T-born,
         While the latter tuck as a piazza of nicely marbled stairy Gemonian destiny.
Whatour whorld hang from the grizzle of our muvvers nevvers, god bless.
         And god bless Whitty Whiteman’s simplers.
                      His L’Odes of Ass.
                What Reggie go ta the truffle a whippin’ his clusters
Til the sweet bred lad buy and bi-curios 
         Pokin’ about wif his knife fiddlin’ McVitie’s vittles
               Takin’ his 200 pounds a flesh.
 The jungle janglin’s jingle at the jugular
               Drummed our Pollux upon his bollocks.
What Pollux be born by deity and delayity.
        Castor balls be but a hang me down a Tyndari
Mort all at the portal, hopen too infernal poachin’,
        Two hard billed wee raptors
                 Nested on the half-shill a the widow Syl. 
Up til them, god be on Reggie’s side.
         And regaul from Grin’s Fairy Trials, Haensel and Mueller,
Them Buggers In Arms and Podners in Crime,
         How they ossidefied orders from Wretched Helms,
      Of Janysus and the Allgonenuts,
             On the rimor a Jack the Hat, the kantchant meullinner;
       And in the matter a 138 black market watches,
     Stowa in a dusstydorfull bag, 
         Be nearly cord marshelled forit.
                 What be a bit looer than Ronnie and me
         Dodgin’ the Feds, protectin’ the home front
From the evil sort down the Bells.
                For what we done hard time,
          What the OSS blokes and Castor and Pollux done not.
               It regalls the unspared Castor speared,
         Cauled out ta Pollux
                       What gravely untwined laced up Lynceus,
       Who mind ya Pollux boxed the arears off a King Amycus.
       But Reggie down the Earl’s Court bested Bobby Manito,
Wif a Earl or that sort bein’ a bit rare down the Bows
              But for the lisigneage and a sea a mare nada sourze.
And could ya spare the garlic, dreary.
        Every ovver Wednesday me auntie’s got hot water.
              So’s me bollocks don’t need a pungi purge.
         As Shem and Shaun be lepercons for James and John,
             What Jaysus brew a Yack Off and a Yo Cannon,
That layabout sun of Fumblin’ Dublin.
      Aaaah, step down from your cross, Jaysus.
             And let not a mear man, who’s sain’t is an auntie-
Papist, take up the snails and prawns.
      See! His seersucker suit suits him, dun’ it now.
A lapsed pescetarian immersed in the unpublessababel a the Liffey,
          Where Hera clit’n tongues garble the crux’s two tribyoutarries,
               Down ta the Rubicorn and defeet.
Their it warble a denile, O Yes. Yes. Yes.
      O jimmy, give it a restitatief. 
The buoyant hoods of looky lacks;
         Not just anuvver pratty boy killer.
                 But high Sosayity.
Blue blood stickyer than water.
        Jimmy a pudlock wearin’ a wedlook.
                 So be high Sacheity
Jesus and Mary sown from the gutter
                 And don’ we admeyer the chamera angleton?
      Washington’s blest are mainly a randy Graham.
The sizzling tear path heir wiggles across the tar mac
             And boards a private jet.
And they buried a precedent in a closed casket.
             The tear path which merry run.
      A corps us of spooks put a Crump in their case
But he be alibi and by wif his oddzbawd, Ruby Lee,
            What lean harvey on the jury
            So everyone knew Roi as Patsy.
And ray as his Dovey of Deliverance.
      So’s it’ll go bitter for ya Ronulus
            Unless ya comes kean.
What happened to Mrs. O’Liary’s mulch cow?
            The one what Zooz schmeckled into Oh! Io 
      Prairory ta the Great Chicago Fairy a 1871.
            Reggie Kray, this be your last chance a voidin’ hard time,
Wif your black magic whatsits and bleack market witches.
            Your taley does not conpute.
Try me testes, Mooney, wif a ‘C’ naught a ‘K’.
       Ron and me be in the numbers game.
            Twined stars, stairy cased
What whirl about gripplin’ one anuvvers vaistcoat
       In the narrow jiggers behind the Blind Bugger
            What spirill it out for yooz ta spell.
Two plain and starry systerns wif our own dock lager and greall cakes. 
      A whorlin’ underwhirled a patriarchers. and finnest monisters
            Firelin their tortpedoes
Ronnie ya say on the day in mention
          Ya be, interrawgutory spicket’n’, quenchin’ your Pigutts
Wif a pint or two a Black Sheep.
          And the bitters mind ya of your betters
What be left aloft as long as you be set ta grift.
          Money past hands ya say? Crime pais. Eh, Ron?
          C’mom, we got ya dudes ta rats on ya.
Quite Stalin, Freddie. And where was ya on the fifty troth
                A the fast Fryday a lent,
                        East Lonedone time?
               Cannes ass.
        Cut the frolic, Koch. Where?
        And by witcheatall does ya mean moosecow.
Where Rennie and Rog were murdder’s boys,
               What take their blood bath onholy stabbath
        Scome of a creaminal udderworld,
Ol’ man Frauddie be what ol’ testes mint a Chuck and Dave,
        A harnisht bloke wif a test for the hefty heist.
Wif a strap on ta strip the saplings.
             You frack me back and I’ll frack yours.
       Black galled from MITea.
            Fondler a John Butch Sorta Sashighety.
A swiggin’ dick what never dipt a drop
             What spur the rod, spill the child.
          Spuddin’ in four hoyley whelps
                 Mafyou, Mug, Lip and Jawhn.
       His cadavernous hoaryfist
           What only Foch Junior had the god sinds to outgrown,
       Four too many Kochs in the kitchen spoil the broyths.
Sea ya later, litigator. After while bucket of bile.
       Fred’s sandalmantality cord be a cut hokey
           What the bitty’s cow chip inhairroot from his Aunt Gushy.
Bet for Chowels it’s wallawallsbe about margishuns and 
                   Quaquaquatooly prophets. And despote his
       Per chasing preferlance for raunch drossing,
Many a chip left the cowpens unstabled.
       Ta hail the wails a Mary Koochamemmary.
The bawd bled as Fred spudded in four whaleps,
            Fudd, Dev, Bile & Chut, the poke a the litter,
       Chiep Koch and battle watcher.
The lotter 4 whoresons of the Apostalepsy,
       Cauld differdent as Dadeye’s dick thong.
What sack liddered these cats that clambed the ludders.
               What druin wee mum in the Merest code,
      Thee oxys rib o new clayic ass surd
What leaven her chrustian bablies baykin’ in the crosst.
       The two twins were a ways at odds
Even as they be tulled apart sor en all fire and tumblin’
           Chipter and versus a cock’s scrapping mertal and salvagion
       Mammaries a sweat mummy boxed innher arrears
While the boyz zwang ol’ Fret’s cockles and sheckles
                What n’er despare a dog a bone
        Or sweat, in valid Molly a loan
                While alive alive oh.
        What Chut a ravid reaver
Be better dead then well read
                But un red anon the lease
Wif his ecseedy Hiyackers and von Mizers
             What sickness usumpt his soul
       On his rood to surf some,
             Throw down the gaunt Molly wif his left.
A pisstoon a humid action so’s Koch is to Faulkes
              As carguile sox on a sistern.
A twin Bill a Shareles wif Davide and Feckless Fraidie.
        A tri-umph- umph- umph a the wills. No divvy in churles
            Naught go quite into that grod knot.
    And bile and bile the tempurst never mend
                  What be there litter all ass be their end.
       And Exspillane ta me the were abouts a Mickey’s twin.
What wif the muse a kill notes foe monneycurs
            For they be a lit tunnally a luds a tin pun alley
               What tenor sing “sweet plunder in thee eyes”
      What fatce be accrusted wif a heatfillt allover of crime pie.
 Lettuce prey about our toon pot ally
            Wares ya get your Leaffy head stoved in.
And when a bout ta lose on a tec nick all,
                     Just blame it on the collards.
Lifey revolvered a round the flim flamily
              At Hell’s Kitchen’s Apolsoulstice tablicle.
       Wif mint jailey and a leg on the lamb.
                  Corner beefs wif stabbage.
            Mates what be surly Dubelin as
 Trigger and Buddery, Nooseboy and Spike, 
           Pinchy and Punchy and Connie. 
Butcher, Squirty, Squinty and Souce,
           Retchie, Cockeye, Mossy, Dinty Legs and
       Dan’ I whoosh ta take a mull again,
             A crippleboggery dothemalagain
              Genuworn aye yesh Stewish funnegan,
                  What the greens be loft overs,
The four evangeleeks over the aporcalinks 
                 Mussin’ the holey fodders Iwish
            Goalt emblazered bugger dish
       Wif his nimbers 2 iron and foremoses Soprime Wood.
            O dear, dear much mudmired Island, bogger me namore.
The nickers have a nack a scrubblin’ them elves
           When wone Anna Liffey occidental shores here druiers
                  Hell bent upon fetishin’ her katchin chores.   
On the Eve of Apello nerosin’ Diurna
      One twin the moon and one the Uregional Sun was
          On the lamb, his epithoughts for hailiases:
      The Hochster, Theof, Mugger a god,
       Sintheos, Rackcourtier,
       Dublin Dealin’ Solly the Helion,
       The Miscreator, the Aphiator, the Predicater
Of Judah Dirtymouf Thomas wif Jizzus ownan his jym shorts
       Was found bardly beaten wif brass taberknuckles
              In the Volley of the Blind Pellicci’s
An Apaulling naughstyc bruze on his rite gnoses.
                  The Wake heald at Deadham’s Court
           What Justus know a Socko  Sans Zetti  levels a Red Scar
      For no Wall breaks its foul as a head draws its contusion.
       The bulls acquiestioned identical towering broad twins
Skyscrappers wailing wattled in swinddling close,
              Shoortin’ the muggilends wif rosie dereiverters
       And cruddit default swipes.
With stocks pilloried ass sets they pitchfolks,
              They Walkovia werther U can BS them or not,
       Hot coals pairadoxcycle on the black scholes of their cloven feats.
Bank of Aholy soles Vicoriously corporupted.
       Their wills be damned as it is hooven.
Goldman’s sack is felon the blank fine?  Taint butt dimons nuggets
          In J. Prime Monsterance’s organ,
                      Anun is not a sistern as ceaseanull is not decyst
                Yet gott’s killdren. They gots ridathym.
While chief Koch and battle watcher may
                As wells forgoe chasin’ Bears.      
In side her treandering cellipsus the storck splits the weave’s dustination
               Q:  What makes Schrodinger’s dead cat bounce?
               A:  Do Dillingerence.
                         Of courpse.
        Robing the rich at the expanse of their gunpower.
Reggie now.  accordon to a ghast, a one eyed Jack McVitie
        In accord wif the encyclelops  a Hayseead’s
              Wacks and Kray’s, you stabbath sad Jeck
        In his gad eye wif its Brontage Stareups and Urges,
           Brothers of Mount Otherys,
While Homer tireacheus their seed be the opposidon.
                 A Loondoon crymea bast sailar,
        Jenuses or the Brittal Kollin’ a Jack MeVittals
                       Or the Beau Ludd Had Bells
                 By Jaysus James WellI’llbe, esquallor, D.D., D.D. S.
        Docktwhore of Dabblin’ and Shorounds,
                      Bast ghost a Bish Ra.
                Butt can the Iwish moxyn stendch the Brutish shite?
Its oragens in the small of the Pigutt. O’Sheam on you Parnell.
        The prudes are in the Putin.
                 Partin’ Natolism from the Catholeptic Churdge
        Pain opined in the oponion coulambs.
                And at the pinnacle of suchcess,
Stayged this Hillyrian play billed Plautypiss
                 Where palemale they suffer a tramatic Menaechtomy.
Founders twins, Viobola and Isosceles,
          And the temptest winds the trades by storms. 
For mariney tryverse a tragail ta Egguson
                  And duel Nature and its happenstunts
          Accast away a commodie of Waiferrors
                  A forest follyo a archetropes.
Titen thy Beltch Mr. Shagspeezer
           And take stockun for the holey sock of us awl.
     What dis remaimber. Vandter predict, vindter abide.
But all be circumscrised by the
           Twine and Twain apostasee of
                 Amber Limber halves and halve nuts.
           I plendge a long allance those I frag
Depvoid of unhaploid. Ragged undividable commutiny agonizer.
           The wizzer of odds on the treackling yellow psychlopath,
A barbarity and just us free for all.
        Holy Stabbirth! Is that McVital’s in the esteamer trump?
               Aye.  Draw me blood bathos, Cassanders.
What we polys russh ta beare and ukrane its nextasee.
        A 2000 maul wail betwin the Reubel farces and the Marxicans.
Herr Mann Chumptin gone from Doublin ta Tripolin
        And pound for pound the steearn tom cat
Chaws with his faberite clawse for what Dog Ma don’t
        Kat Man doo.
 Hear Comes AnaLuvia’s Pairaboyles
        Sham and Shim. ..    

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