MELLIPOP THE POET
Ok, so I’m planting the seed of a new project and was just now playing around with Thesaurus.com and Dictionary.com.
After entering various related-to-the-project search terminology, as the result of my tangential curiosity I also thought to type the word ”bogan” into both search engines, as you do when you're a dumb bogan seeking external validation for your essence of being. Thesaurus.com was utterly bewildered by my particular keyword, and offered me a comprehensive list of words that I must have otherwise intended to consult it about. I stumped the bugger, and he wasn’t happy about it. Fuck him. Bogans live!
On the other hand, Dictionary.com offered me one solitary entry for “Louise Bogan (1897 – 1970): American Poet”. Being unable to avoid the temptation, I googled Ms Bogan’s particulars for further information and was rewarded with a list of her poems.
The first poem I chose to click on was titled “Solitary Observation Brought Back from a Sojourn in Hell”, thinking that maybe Ms Bogan had made a pilgrimage to her spiritual namesake here in Blacktown before her untimely demise, and saw fit to render it in enigmatic prose for all of posterity.
“Solitary Observation Brought Back from a Sojourn in Hell”
At midnight tears
Run in your ears.
That’s it! That’s her fucking poem!!! I’ve read more elegant prose on the instruction sheet enclosed in tampon packets, and gleaned far more insight into the human condition from the squat-thrust vaginal diagrams herewith.
Alright then, how’s this for poetry.
“Solitary Observation Brought Back from a Sojourn in Hell”
At lunchtime tears
I’m all out of beers.
There - I’m a fucking poet now.
That last line wasn’t part of my poem, by the way. It was a resounding statement of intent. While I’m at it, here’s one for Carefree. Two poems down now, and a slim volume of prose with my name on it must surely be forthcoming.
“Sonnet for Sanitary Products”
Stick white, cottony bungers
Up the canal at the back
Do not insert with dirty fingers
Do not insert in the urinary tract
Mellipop (1976 - ? ) Poet, bogan, raconteur.
It’s a gift, really….That last one came to me scarily easy. No more poems on Mellipop. Promise. You'll have to purchase the book. Genius ain't free.
posted by Mel @ 10:06 AM
2 Comments:
you're so funny mel, but you shouldn't be so hard on ms bogan, she had a decent sense of humour too. from wikipedia: "In a letter to Edmund Wilson, she detailed a raucous affair that she and the yet-unpublished Roethke carried on in 1935, during the time between his expulsion from Lafayette College and his return to Michigan. At the time she seemed little impressed by what she called his "very, very small lyrics"."
Oh, so she was a snarky bitch too! Props!
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