William Butler Bloody Yeats

#8

William Butler Bloody Yeats

Is one of those poets who nobody heats.

Who doesn’t know his works and deats

Will answer to me and my closest meats.

I sits me down and contempleats

The woebegonne yearnings of Willie B. Yeats,

And how my heart exhilareats!

My soul is bestirred! My anguish abeats!

Though yes he had eccentric treats

(Like talking with spirits in mystical steats),

That wack-job W. Bee-loud Yeats

Is the hugest of poetry heavyweats.

Whose body of work intoxiceats —

Whose lyric sublimity quenches and seats —

Whose slightest line annihileats

Like Widening, Blood-dimmed, What Beast Yeats?

(Don’t confuse him with Keats.

Who had cravings for sweats.)

An Error Has Occurred

#7

1

An error has occurred.

On that you have my word.

Whatever you wanted, it couldn’t be found.

Enjoy this unbearable erroring sound.

Whatever you meant, it was not understood.

Complaining about it’ll do you no good.

Whatever you’re working on couldn’t be saved.

Perhaps from now on you’ll be better behaved.

Whatever you’re trying to do ain’t permitted.

This program has now unexpectedly quitted.

2

A second error occurred.

There will probably be a third.

Your document’s damaged and can’t be repaired.

It’s what you deserve, as if anyone cared.

Your input is empty. Your path is invalid.

Now sample this morsel of motherboard salad.

You haven’t sufficient resources or space.

That idiot grin just abandoned your face.

Your volume is dirty. Your drive is defunct.

This lesson on failures is over. You flunked.

3

Some additional errors occurred.

As you may or may not’ve inferred.

ALERT you have triggered a major malfunction

Consigning your data to total extunction.

ALERT your malfunction encountered a glitch.

Your disk is now blank as a son of a bitch.

ATTENTION your glitch catastrophically froze.

The system has run out of hardware to hose.

ATTENTION your freeze has now suffered a crash

And burned your machine into cinders and ash.

4

An unknown error occurred.

And lo, the heavens stirred.

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5

The error has occurred.

In case you haven’t heard.

This poem’s allowable time was exceeded.

It couldn’t connect, and it can’t be completed.

The point of this poem has not been detected.

Device unsupported. Expression expected.

This poem must exit and nothing’s been said.

It couldn’t be written; it cannot be read.

The specified poem has failed to be clever.

Aborting. Ejecting. Please try again never.

What the Leopard Was Seeking At That Altitude

#6

“Kilimanjaro is a snow covered mountain 19,710 feet high, and is said to be the highest mountain in Africa. Its western summit is called the Masai ‘Ngàje Ngài,’ the House of God. Close to the western summit there is the dried and frozen carcass of a leopard. No one has explained what the leopard was seeking at that altitude.”

epigraph to Hemingway’s “The Snows of Kilimanjaro”, 1936

The leopard here. So listen, fools.

Before my weary carcass cools.

I’ve climbed to nineteen-thousand feet

To turn to freeze-dried mammal meat.

Up here on mighty Kilimanjaro,

My bones will just be chillin’ tomorrow.

As I expire upon this peak,

I’ll tell you gladly what I seek.

When nightfall struck the western summit,

My body temp did greatly plummet;

And once I reached this altitude,

Ferocious bites of frost ensued.

Yet still I seek one thing, in turn,

For which I bet you also burn:

To simply, deftly, sans delay,

ESCAPE FROM ERNEST HEMINGWAY.

See, Hem for years has hunted me.

No jungle’s safe. No town. No tree.

From north to south he’s had me chased.

It’s such a dreadful Hemingwaste.

He’s hounded me from east to west;

Pursued me like a man possessed.

A harsh revenge would he exact.

Won’t rest till I’ve been Hemingwhacked.

What happened was, in ’22,

When Hem to me was known as Who?,

A stunt I pulled in Paris, France

Converted Hem to crazypants.

I’d long indulged, at Lion Station,

In bouts of baggage confiscation,

But here admit I bit it badly

And stole that suitcase off of Hadley.

It gave me then the leopard vapors

To find the case held merely papers.

A stack of stories short and lengthy

Of fragile femmes and sportsmen strengthy.

Such empty prose! Such aimless plots!

Like me, they only worked in spots!

I skimmed them idly, shrugged and laughed,

Then ate up every page and draft.

Well, Hem found out his manuscripts

Had passed this leopard’s whiskered lipts;

And I, from there, to meet my fate

Did not have long to Hemingwait.

For Hem, with fury incandescent,

From Yucca Flat to Fertile Crescent,

From mountain-top to ocean floor,

Let slip the dogs of Hemingwar!

And Heaven’s rafters belled and sang

As out burst Hem with sharpened fang!

My feasting on his written work

Had made me full, and him berserk!

He tracked me down without relent,

His thoughts on darkest vengeance bent,

And all of Hell’s foundations shook

As Hem closed in to shut my book!

And HOLY JESUS JUMPING CHRIST.

He swore he’d leave me chopped and diced!

He’d snap my femurs, flense my coat,

And tear my soul right out my throat!

My skull he’d split, my brains he’d dash!

My guts he’d pound to leopard hash!

He’d make my slaughter slow and gory,

Then stash my corpse inside a story!

Your leopard fled in great alarm

Lest Hem inflict this grievous harm.

Since then he’s tailed me day and night,

His hatred burning Hemingwhite!

And though I’ve dodged, in countless lands,

Those grappa-pickled grabby hands,

At last these handy mountain snows

Are ending all my Hemingwoes!

So leopard out. And just in time.

For surely Hem’s begun his climb.

Let no one call my death explainless.

The marvellous thing is that it’s painless.