CADILLAC 

Garish chrome-tittie Cadillac—
Sleek Americana Land Cruiser

Gimme back the Fifties again—
Detroit before the Denouement

Gimme back the Sleek Fins—
That Marilyn Monroe Plush Gush

Gimme back the Good Times—
The Cadillac Consciousness

SALOME (1953)

Nothing like a campy—

Hollywood Sword & Sandal

Biblical Epic to Butch me

Up for Sunday School!!!

To face the Christians—

Slithering every Sunday

Guilting me severely with

Damning demeaning Hell!!!

And to think, my dears—

Christians once back then

Such Fearful Closet Cases

Under the Roman sword!!!

Both Charles Laughton—

And Miss Stewart Granger

Such flaming LA Queens

What Faggy Filmographies!!!

“Salome” tells the story—

About Christian persecution

John the Baptist’s holy head

Plopped on a Silver Platter!!!

How things have changed—

Rome the New Religious Right

Jerry Fartwell & Jimmy Swaggart

Preaching hatred for all Queers!!!

Backed by rabid Mormonism—

And Revered Edie Long Dong

Christians the New Persecutors

Let Salome begin her Dance!!!

SALOME

“At Princeton on Monday a freshman
asked Antonin Scalia to explain his
legal writings comparing sodomy
bans with laws prohibiting bestiality
and murder.”—Juliet Lapidos
The NYTimes December 11, 2012

The exquisite Beardsley—

Illustrations for Salome,

My dear, so very campy

And preciously naughty

The same with campy—

Miss Wilde doing her own

Drag version of his

Kitschy play “Salome”

But Rita Hayworth’s—

Movie of Miss Salome

With the enthralled

Queen Charles Laughton

Takes camp beyond—

The beyond until the

Head of John the Baptist

Gets plopped on the plate

Miss Stewart Granger—

Doesn’t butch things up

Very much either when

It comes to Salome

No matter how many—

Dances of the Seven Veils

It would surely take a

Thousand veils to conceal

Poor John the Baptist—

Didn’t have a chance

Not with Judith Anderson,

Rita Hayworth and Charles

Laughton in the wings

Judge Scalia should ban—

This shocking flick because

Of its sodomy, bestiality

And murder most foul!!!!

The Game Begins

"And now my dears, 

the Game begins......"

The New York Times

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/08/us/supreme-court-agrees-to-hear-two-cases-on-gay-marriage.html?_r=0 

Graham Greene: The Enemy Within

By Michael Shelden

“While Norman Sherry is still engaged in writing his hugely detailed, three-volume Greene biography comes this deconstructionist effort by the author of studies of Cyril Connolly and Orwell. Shelden began work intending an "affectionate portrait," but "along the way I kept uncovering unpleasant facts." That is a considerable understatement. Shelden has portrayed Greene as an eternal manipulator, of friends as well as of the world press; as a man whose ostensible religion and politics were shams, whose early books?including the much-admired Brighton Rock?contained reprehensible anti-Semitic elements; and, artistically, as a writer who underwent a decline after The Heart of the Matter in 1948, with only occasional glimpses (as in The Human Factor of 1978) of the huge talents he once possessed. Although Greene was renowned for his louche sexual habits (Shelden asserts he could have authored a splendid guide to the world's best brothels), it has not previously been documented that he had homosexual inclinations. Shelden avers that in his hideaway on Capri, he dallied with young boys, and that there are passages in his work that can only be seen as the product of a gay sensibility. Shelden's scrutiny of Greene's work is scrupulous, and certainly suggests that some reassessment of much of it is in order. In the case of Greene's private life, it is clear that his habitual evasiveness and cunning render many of his actions subject to various interpretations. Shelden's book is certainly an impressive brief for the prosecution, even if this most mysterious of contemporary writers continues ultimately to baffle and elude us.”— From Publishers Weekly

Mildred Pierce

MILDRED PIERCE

Ann Bylth
Zachary Scott
Lana Turner
Joan Crawford

Ann Bylth

“Veda, I think I’m really seeing

you for the first time in my life,

and you’re cheap and horrible.”

—Joan Crawford in

“Mildred Pierce” (1945)

I ended up, of course—

In a mildewing version

Of Mildred Pierce

Playing a tres bitchy—

Spoiled-rotten slutty

Little tramp like Veda

Putting the make on—

My Mother’s handsome

Slinky second husband

I was such a whore—

Betraying my lovely

Joan Crawford mother

She couldn’t believe it—

When she found me

Sucking off Zachary Scott

Zachary Scott

Once you’ve seen one—

You’ve seen them all

The male gigolo types

Zachary Scott playing—

Monte Beragon getting

Just what he deserved

For calling me just a—

Rotten little tramp

When he was one too

Mommy Dearest—

Played such a simply

Divine Blanche after

I pushed her down—

The stairs in her nice

Little old wheelchair

Lana Turner

One thing’s for sure—

Both Joan Crawford and

Lana Turner were alike

They both had rotten—

Daughters just like me

It was such a shame

Sandra Dee tricked—

With John Gavin in

“Imitation of Life”

Just like mulatto—

Slutty Susan Kohner

Betrayed Juanita Moore

I was no different—

Just a rotten little tramp

Like the other girls

Joan Crawford

Queer Theory Queens—

Are trashing & dishing

Me behind my back

They’re saying I’m—

Either outmoded or

The epitome of camp

I used to be a Diva—

In movies like Whatever

Happened to Baby Jane.

Bette Davis and me—

We were the Queen Bees

Of Hollywood Babylon!!!

Even tho trashy imitators—

Like Faye Dunaway try to

Mime Mommy Dearest

Possibilities of Male Chick Lit

The Possibilities of

Male Chick Lit

__________________

“What is the meaning 
of Peter Pan?”
—Jacqueline Rose
The Case of Peter Pan:
Or the Impossibility of
Children’s Fiction
_________________________

What’s the meaning, my dears—
Of Peter Pan not for J. M. Barrie

But for the thousands of avid—
Chick Lit “Lolitaesque” Readers

Who buy cheap Pulp Fiction—
Romances so tres Nabokovian 
_______________

And for all the Justin Bieber fans—
Devotees out there who are into

Faithfully attending the productions—
Of Justin Bieber on the Stage

There in Concerts & listening to him—
On Youtube and live Everywhere
___________________

What does Peter Pan have to say—
About our conception of Bieber?

About how we understand Boyhood—
And our own relationship to Boy Bands?

What can Justin Bieber & Peter Pan tell us—
About language, sexuality, and death? 
______________________

About the theatrical, literary, musical—
And educational institutions of our society?

These are some of the questions that—
Perhaps one could attempt to answer 

Shifting attention away from J. M. Barrie—
The queenly British originator of Peter Pan
________________

And ask instead what is the nature of—
Our own desire & investment in Chick Lit?

Books, plays, novels, stories, song lyrics—
Peter Pan fantasies of our own youth?

As we retrace back through history—
Chick Lit fiction forward to modern times?
________________________

Commentaries on children's writing began—
A long time ago with Grimm’s Fairy Tales

And before that with Greek Mythologies
Especially the Oedipus and Electra genres

Miss Freud did her slant on Chick Lit—
With vast tomes on Infantile Sexuality
________________________

Most contemporary writers of books—
For children today and chicken queens

Owe so much of their Chick Lit oeuvres—
To The Mysterious Case of Peter Pan 

With Jacqueline Rose & Hollywood getting—
Into the act now one wonders What’s Up?
_______________________

The endless production and dissemination—
Of Chick Lit Fiction has simply gone Viral

Peter Pan's new guise as Justin Bieber—
Along with Spielberg's Hook in Hollywood 

The lesbian production of Peter Pan—
At the London Drill Hall in 1991… 
__________________

And debates in the English House of Lords—
Certainly have stirred Male Chick Lit up

Peter Pan has become the new icon—
Of a transvestite Chick Lit Culture

Peter Pan is the latest renewable—
Bizarre Fetish Icon of our Times

Katsushika Hokusai 36 View of Mount Fuji

Floating Fuji

From my Bayliner—

Pictures of a floating world

Floating on Lake Washington

Looking south—

Over Renton & Boeing

Floating worlds gather

The Last Man on Earth

The Last Man

On Earth (1954)

__________________

“there's no

escape from

Vincent Price”

—Scott Heim

“The Death of

Vincent Price”

________________

Bleak as Pasolini—

Kitschy as Sergio Leone

Decadent as Visconti

There’s no escape—

For the Vampire-Zombies

Of Living Dead Rome

Shots of dead bodies—

Strewn in the empty

Streets of the Roma

___________________

The alarm clock rings—

It’s morning once again

Time for Vincent to rise

“Another day” she says—

“Another day to live thru

Better get started”

Thus begins one—

of the most tacky horror

films of Vincent’s oeuvre

_______________________

When a disease turns—

All of humanity into a

Nightmare of Living dead…

Much deader than usual—

Poor bored humans around

The putrid dead dying world

It becomes Vincent Price’s—

Stake-plunging Responsibility

To DeZombiefy the Planet

________________

The Last Man on Earth—

Has to reluctantly become

Limp-Wristed Vampire Killer!!!

Yes, my dears, as Night falls—

The plague victims begin

Leaving their stinking graves

Crawling, shambling, limping—

Whimpering, pleading for blood

Throughout the empty streets

_______________________

The Hellish Undead—

Zombies starved for blood

Thirsting for Vincent Price’s bod

The Last Gimpy Man on Earth—

Lisping, mincing his way thru

One of his most tacky movies

But this time Vincent won’t—

Escape the Living Dead!!!

Like in all those Poe Classics

_____________

Spectral Rome drained dry—

Ancient abandoned Sinful City

Stalked by greedy Bloodsuckers!!!

There’s no escape for Vincent—

“Vincent come on out now!!!”

Comes the Creepy Nightly Chant

Ubaldo Ragona directs this—

Classic Long before the American

Rotten cheap Hollywood version

___________________

Nobody can compare with—

Vincent Price, certainly not

Crummy Charlton Heston

The Omega Man version—

Stinks worse than the ugly

Cheap Zombie-Vampire Dead

The Last Man on Earth filmed—

In dismal black & white shots

Of decadent postwar Rome

________________

Produced by the horror queen—

Samuel Z. Arkoff with a cast of

Millions of Unemployed Italians

The Zombie Cast reads like a—

Spaghetti Western with names

Like Franca Bettoia, Danieli,

Giacomo Rossi-Stuart, Umberto

Raho, Antonio Corevi, Ettore

Ribotta, Rolando De Rossi,

Giuseppe Mattei, De Fonseca,

Gen Ruggiero, Franca Silvi,

Giorgio Giovannini, Brunell…

Serena Ulloa, Angiolina

Menichelli, Piero Mecacci,

Linello Meucci, Vico Vaccaro,

Luciano Volpato, Carlo

Grandone, Enzo Silvestri,

Armando Timpani, Bruno

Zanoli, Alfonso Avincola,

Angelo Lannutti, Alvaro

Lanzoni, Renato Pedrini,

Federico Tocci, Carmen

Frosali, Alfonso D’Artega,

Rita Agostini, Franco Rispoli,

Ermete Santini, etc. etc.

_______________

And of course the great—

Hollywood Horror Queen

Vincenti De Pricella herself!!!

“December 1965? Is that all—

It’s been since I inherited the

world? Only three years!!!”

“Seems like 100 million—

You're freaks, all of you!

All of you, freaks, mutations!”

Miss Baldwin

Miss Baldwin

“Jimmy thought of himself

as a combination of Martin

Luther King and Bette Davis.”

—Gore Vidal

“What a dump,” Jimmy would say—

Whether it was Harlem or Hollywood

Marlon Brando nods knowingly—

Wally Cox has other things to do

“Really, my dear,” John Gielgud quips—

While Cary Grant does vaudeville drag

Rock Hudson and James Dean—

Camping it up with Elizabeth Taylor

Montgomery Cliff stuck with all—

Those mean little Riviera hustlers 

Shocked to see Stewart Granger—

Flipping wrist The Johnny Carson Show

Miss Truman Capote and Miss Vidal—

A bitch fight in Tiffany’s tearoom!!!

 

Sylvia Plath

POET LAUREATESS

“I see her as a kind
of Hammer Films poet”
—Philip Larkin
Letter to Judy Egerton
10 June 1960

__________________

It wasn’t pretty—

It was tres messy

And rather bloody….

But it had—

To be done and

That’s what I did…

I killed Big Daddy—

Fucking there in the

Old cold graveyard

___________________

I waited behind—

A tilting old gravestone

As he fucked away

I even invited—

Assia to come and

Visit that weekend

The Yorkshire prick—

Couldn’t wait to sink

His Pike inside her

_____________________

That’s when I—

Heard my tall

Handsome husband

Moan & groan—

The way he did

When he lost it

That’s when—

I snuck up &

Shot them dead

____________________

I used his own—

Rabbit-hunting

Stinking killer rifle…

I buried them—

Both down deep in

Court Green Cemetery

And reported—

Them gone and

Poor me all alone

_______________

An abused abandoned—

Wife of an adulterous

Gigolo husband

Everybody nodded—

Knowingly, he’d always

Been a Lady’s Man

Ever since his—

Randy Cambridge days

People shook their heads

_______________

I played the sad—

Distraught abandoned

Widow game rather…

Cool & nicely—

I thought & stayed

There at Court Green

I played it well—

The grieving widow poet’s

Sad bitter Violin

___________________

Faber felt sorry—

Miss Eliot took me

Under her wing

After all, my dears—

His marriage wasn’t

The happiest thing either

And so I published—

While the Fox, Hawk

Whore rotted slowly

_____________________

Down there beneath—

The Yew tree in my own

Backyard cemetery

I skipped London—

Yeats’ flat and all

That cold winter angst

Mommy Dearest—

Wanted me to come back

To America, of course

____________________

Why teach there—

At Smith though with

Prouty & the dykes?

I was British now—

With a stiff upper lip

And poetry to write

Big Daddy Lit—

It grew & grew

I became famous

_________________

Women’s Lib—

Was just beginning

The BBC loved me

I sneered at men—

Especially Mytholmroyd

Male putrid Pricks

My oeuvre grew—

I became famous

And infamous too

_________________

When Larkin turned—

The poet laureateship

Down, it was mine

Rather than—

Carol Ann Duffy

Or my tacky husband

From then on—

Butchy Britannia did

The Big Turnaround

___________________

I relished it—

The very first Lady

Poet Laureate

Lesbos reborn—

Founder of British

Sapphic Modernism

My pen sang—

While Ted & Assia

Rotted down below

___________________

So much for—

Big Daddy finally

Gone at last

And me, my dears?—

I didn’t even bother

To say Achoo!!!              

Instead I became—

Who I’d always been

Ariel the Goddess at last!!!

KEY WEST

The Child Idiot

“The boy strangling

under the mimosas”

—Hart Crane, “The Idiot,”

Key West

Simply shocking, my dears—

Doing it for all to see him

Born-again idiot savant

Strangling himself to death—

Fumbling beneath the palms

Moaning in the mimosas

Teenage child idiot—

Infernal retard in the nude

As I hurried by

He was losing it, agape—

His hand playing, pealing it

Tilting midnight moon sky

He couldn’t help it—

I stared at the hopeless kid

Stroking his ghastly tool

My trespassing shame—

Ogling his simply huge penis

His overflowing rose

Key West Revisited

“how gay culture continues
to perform a sly and profound
critique of what passes for normal”
—David M. Halperin, “Normal as Folk,”
The New York Times 6/21/2012

It’s gay pride month again—
And time for the str8t intelligentsia
To get snide about the queer and
Lesbian parades again


Bring on the dykes on bikes—
The Lady Gaga queens in drag
And the usual flaunting floats

Meanwhile the Brooklyn Bridge—

Still spans the East River and

There he is up there on the roof

Columbia Heights—

Emil Opffer gazing out over NYC

Now that Hart Crane is gone

The Fleet’s in again—

But the sailors don’t miss him

Anymore than the other queens

Djuna Barnes is gone too—

An apartment in Greenwich Village 

Along with Mina in the Bowery

How Queer?

“Crane’s boorish erotic

fixation on hypermasculine

working class images of

masculinity.”

—Brian Reed, Hart Crane:

After His Lights

Excuse me, my dear—

Aren’t you getting a bit

Tres Miss Yvor Winters?

Why not throw in—

Miss Whitman’s love for

Soldiers, sailors & farmboys?

Since when is male gaze—

Limited to Adam’s rib or

Reproductive labor?

Rapture ruled by str8t—

Heteronormative policing

Get real, my dear.

Empyrean Rose

“Crane might deserve

a seat in the queen’s

heavenly seat, but he

does not merit a place

in the Empyrean Rose.”

—Brian Reed, Hart Crane:

After His Lights

Such drama queens—

Djuna Barnes & Miss Crane

Wrecking str8t hearts

Fellow ephebes—

Campy, absurd compatriots

Of decadent morbidities

Djuna with her cape—

Hart with his Key West

Pirates of Penzance pizzazz

Reveling themselves—

Flaunting lotsa lavender

And mid-mauve lush