Latest 5 Poems of Suchoon Mo
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(11/7/2007 3:08:00 PM)
This may interest some readers. She, Eskimo Pie Girl, edits 'Sacramento Poetry, Art and Music.'
Monkey poets are known for screaming, howling and leaping around on stage. They are usually white males who are obsessed with sex and fascinated by their own bananas. Monkey poets are usually very short or very tall and are very competitive. They are very concerned with who has the biggest banana. They used to congregate at a midtown bookstore where they were presided over by The Monkey King who had a predilection for sitting on top of coffee tables and chattering loudly. Monkey poets normally hang out in packs of males and suffer from the Peter Pan Complex. For some strange reason, they have an affinity for science fiction, especially Edgar Rice Burroughs' stories. Monkeys have high levels of testosterone and are excellent ass kissers. You can be sure that if a famous poet comes to town, all the monkeys will be in attendance. Monkey poets dream of being on MTV. Fortunately for the listening and viewing public, Eskimo has gotten more air time than all the monkey poets put together. Eskimo has also published a poem in an anthology called 'Monkey Rhythms' which was edited by an orangutan. Eskimo is actually a certified primate expert, and explains that technically, most of these monkeys are actually great apes. There are so many different kinds of monkey poets, that it will take a long time for Eskimo to complete this web page. However, for the moment, here are just a few of the monkey poets who reside in this fair town:
Bubba the Babbling Jewish Baboon
Chump the Cheek-Kissing Chimp
Old Man (and the sea) Orangutan
Kerowhack A Banana Macaque
Why Don't You Shut Up and Grow Up Gibbon
Misogynist Buffoon (a new subspecies)
Did Eskimo mention that monkey poets like to drink a lot?
(1/10/2007 11:05:00 PM)
From the same sequence, here is another one. She may be a Marxist-Anarchist, but of different caliber than B. Brecht. Brecht was poetically disciplined, and so was Geothe.
I would be a torch unto your hand,
A lamp upon your forehead, Labor,
In the wild darkness before the Dawn
That I shall never see...
We shall advance together, my Beloved,
Awaiting the mighty ushering...
Together we shall make the last grand charge
And ride with gorgeous Death
With all her spangles on
And cymbals clashing...
And you shall rush on exultant as I fall-
Scattering a brief fire about your feet...
Let it be so...
Better-while life is quick
And every pain immense and joy supreme,
And all I have and am
Flames upward to the dream...
Than like a taper forgotten in the dawn,
Burning out the wick.
(10/17/2006 10:54:00 PM)
Emerson's poetry metrical. She is attempting to break away from the constraint of language by moving into meta-language. She still depends a lot on syntax and metaphor. When she is going to use parataxis, I don't know.
Apophasis leads the reader to assume some kind of mysticism. Butit is not mystical in its own light.
'what is not' is quite powerful in comparison to 'what is.'