the missionary who rang my doorbell
this morning
looked like a normal person
but then he started talking
he's only a small part
of the greater insanity:
the slasher movies
the homeless
the troops fighting overseas
for who knows what
growing up in America
in the 80s
watching family sitcoms
and Angel Heart
it's a wonder I can think at all
maybe that's why I'm unemployed
and listen to punk rock
maybe that's why I'm writing this poem.
Showing posts with label Ross Vassilev. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ross Vassilev. Show all posts
Monday, May 10, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
all those mohawks killed punk by Ross Vassilev
riot grrrl is the only good punk left.
the rest is all crap.
the bands all sound alike:
same speed, same riffs
same singer, pretty much
no Exene Cervenka among them
no Lux Interior
they don't seem to know that
slow is BETTER than fast
like, say, Bikini Kill
or Alice Bag Band
they don't seem to get it
that the whole point of punk is
(or was, anyway)
to stand out
to be different
not to play the same music
that EVERYONE ELSE PLAYS
not one of those bands out there
nowadays
has any fire, wild creativity
like someone just escaped
from the asylum
or doped up on LSD
the last great punk band was
The Distillers
damn, I miss them.
the rest is all crap.
the bands all sound alike:
same speed, same riffs
same singer, pretty much
no Exene Cervenka among them
no Lux Interior
they don't seem to know that
slow is BETTER than fast
like, say, Bikini Kill
or Alice Bag Band
they don't seem to get it
that the whole point of punk is
(or was, anyway)
to stand out
to be different
not to play the same music
that EVERYONE ELSE PLAYS
not one of those bands out there
nowadays
has any fire, wild creativity
like someone just escaped
from the asylum
or doped up on LSD
the last great punk band was
The Distillers
damn, I miss them.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
those students are damn lucky,she harvested,illiteracy is freedom by Ross Vassilev
those students are damn lucky
when the Athenian peltasts
defeated the Spartan hoplites
at Sphakteria
Bettany Hughes held my hand
during the whole bloodbath
she’s a professor of Classics
at some British University
she’s a beautiful brunette
with an ass so big
and tits so big
she oughta be in porn
then she told me about how
when Menelaos found
runaway Helen in Troy
he was gonna kill her
but then she showed him
her tits and so he forgave her
so the story goes
Bettany, I wish you’d show
your tits
now that’d be something
to see on PBS
the Classics were never sexier.
she harvested
saw a photo
of the poet Anne Sexton
she had the face
of a real slut
many of her poems
say as much
her best poems
are about fucking and
a long one about her stay
in a mental hospital
(yes, she had problems)
the rest are boring shit
some critic wrote
that many of her poems
are “unfinished”
those are the only ones
worth reading, you prick
well, she ended up
committing suicide at
age 33
another sad story
but those poems
and that photo
will outlive the Gods.
illiteracy is freedom
when I was
busting my ass
at Walmart
I often considered
how it was
that I was the one
doing all the
goddam work
while the Waltons
lived in big
white mansions
and flew to Milan
every weekend
well I guess
it’s all part of
the general injustice
of things
like American troops
in Iraq shooting
pregnant women
and joking they
just killed 2 birds
with one stone
I know a little
about things
and understand
much less
and there’s people
who understand
things a lot more
than I do and
they write books
about it all
that no one ever reads.
Bio:Ross Vassilev was born in Bulgaria and now lives in Ohio. He's a poet some of the time and the editor of Opium Poetry 2.0 and Asphodel Madness blogzines. He's been published here and there.
when the Athenian peltasts
defeated the Spartan hoplites
at Sphakteria
Bettany Hughes held my hand
during the whole bloodbath
she’s a professor of Classics
at some British University
she’s a beautiful brunette
with an ass so big
and tits so big
she oughta be in porn
then she told me about how
when Menelaos found
runaway Helen in Troy
he was gonna kill her
but then she showed him
her tits and so he forgave her
so the story goes
Bettany, I wish you’d show
your tits
now that’d be something
to see on PBS
the Classics were never sexier.
she harvested
saw a photo
of the poet Anne Sexton
she had the face
of a real slut
many of her poems
say as much
her best poems
are about fucking and
a long one about her stay
in a mental hospital
(yes, she had problems)
the rest are boring shit
some critic wrote
that many of her poems
are “unfinished”
those are the only ones
worth reading, you prick
well, she ended up
committing suicide at
age 33
another sad story
but those poems
and that photo
will outlive the Gods.
illiteracy is freedom
when I was
busting my ass
at Walmart
I often considered
how it was
that I was the one
doing all the
goddam work
while the Waltons
lived in big
white mansions
and flew to Milan
every weekend
well I guess
it’s all part of
the general injustice
of things
like American troops
in Iraq shooting
pregnant women
and joking they
just killed 2 birds
with one stone
I know a little
about things
and understand
much less
and there’s people
who understand
things a lot more
than I do and
they write books
about it all
that no one ever reads.
Bio:Ross Vassilev was born in Bulgaria and now lives in Ohio. He's a poet some of the time and the editor of Opium Poetry 2.0 and Asphodel Madness blogzines. He's been published here and there.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Bio: Ross Vassilev
Ross Vassilev was born in Bulgaria and now lives in Ohio. He's a poet and the editor of Opium Poetry 2.0 and Asphodel Madness blogzines. He's been published here and there.
dig? by Ross Vassilev
worms devour the night
as the Tao drinks wine in a tree
he’s no help at all
just like the rest of you.
humanity, you remind me of
the headless mice my cat
leaves in the yard
or the pigeon’s head
she once left by the door.
while Nazis bury Jewish gold
at the ends of rainbows
the angels
of our better nature
are tied to trees
and sodomized
the angels
of our better nature
have slashed their wrists
and hung themselves
with piano wire.
as the Tao drinks wine in a tree
he’s no help at all
just like the rest of you.
humanity, you remind me of
the headless mice my cat
leaves in the yard
or the pigeon’s head
she once left by the door.
while Nazis bury Jewish gold
at the ends of rainbows
the angels
of our better nature
are tied to trees
and sodomized
the angels
of our better nature
have slashed their wrists
and hung themselves
with piano wire.
lost by Ross Vassilev
the stars are
drunk
and this moth
circling the room
is even more lost
than I am.
my family came
to America when
I was 3
before that
I had a country
to call home
but with the fall
of Communism
that country
is gone now
forever.
it starts to rain
outside as
the moth tells
me about fate
and things lost
and left behind.
drunk
and this moth
circling the room
is even more lost
than I am.
my family came
to America when
I was 3
before that
I had a country
to call home
but with the fall
of Communism
that country
is gone now
forever.
it starts to rain
outside as
the moth tells
me about fate
and things lost
and left behind.
small paradise by Ross Vassilev
staring at grass
and red brick
mellow
afternoon light
of Ohio autumn
the point is
just to be
like the white clouds
and the sparrows
sometimes
the only sound
is a girl’s
rollerskates
on the pavement.
and red brick
mellow
afternoon light
of Ohio autumn
the point is
just to be
like the white clouds
and the sparrows
sometimes
the only sound
is a girl’s
rollerskates
on the pavement.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)