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Anna Kreienberg & Christopher Rizzo

TW

 

PORNOGRAPHY & YOU

 

“She’ll take on the subjects of censorship and abortion and sexual harassment. She’ll challenge her fathers, her husband, male companions, spiritual teachers. Turn the language body upside down. What does it look like?” —Anne Waldman

 

“It’s not about doing something that’s already been done. That would be silly.” —Sasha Grey

 

In the 20th century I grew up disgracefully unentertaining

it was the worst of times

when we called our pop band Freud For Fun

it was the age of beautiful people in dramatic situations

it was the epoch of adventure & senses of self gone Big Muff wild

before you were busy praying to Ohio about dinosaur erotica

not ready for such a Jurassic fuck           you’re a question machine

& I’ve run out of quarters so no more funny business

tell me who ate the toy in the Kinder egg

you can thank the Supreme Court for safe chocolate at yr next abortion

it doesn’t count as an opinion if you don’t own the bumper sticker

in such a post-cum era you’d think we’d know by now

not to eat ABC gum

even if it seems pink & fresh like daddy’s new girlfriend

you could still catch the literacy off a toilet seat, even

 

just when you thought forgiveness for infidelity was a possibility

as phony as Freud & his civilization & his sexy discontents

nothing’s sadder than body-gluing rhinestones around yr nipples

especially on a Tuesday night

when she explains the rapey robots of Cosmo  

Aristocrat Gin makes smoking apple shisha so cheaply bourgie

it’s obviously what Marx meant about the opiate for the masses

I mean the daily search on Pornhub for their glory be to God hole

when science murders every balloon animal ever blown into existence 

you have to ask             do Christians believe in dinosaurs?

mine eyes have seen the vajazzle & I can’t believe I live on this planet of the aping

her ancestors fucked monkey sluts for this?

not to mention those Neanderthals

but not to worry

our mass extinction event is called late capitalism

which is really just getting started, I mean

 corporations have souls?

that’s scarier than a clown with his cock in one hand & a Pulitzer in the other

now zat is vat vomen vant                   the Pulitzer, not the clown cock

that’s already asleep next to them after all Pornhub & some play

Jack is ready for a serious nap & isn’t that the reason we bought the vibrator?

it seems a big game of charades

so gesture emphatically towards the problem

in a Best Buy & carelessly hit a child in the head with a discount television

WWJD on a Good Black Friday? televangelically speaking he’s toast

on Ebay find him used starting at $4 a slice going going gone to the Internet

so devoted to toast-faces you could make a business out of it              cold hard

cash out before yr Splenda daddy tries to pay you in love

sorry pal, I don’t really do barefoot-pregnant in the kitchen 

for any less than $65/hr

ask about my professional snuggling                can we get this on a bumper sticker?

this poem’s a speed trap for hookers & sadness is the secret ingredient

who isn’t exploited by the Olympian 1%?

 

when organic intellectuals are sold at Trader Joe’s

do not pass go            do not collect vagina            I’m taking the highlight road

& burying her marriage in a shoebox with Petey the Parakeet

behind the backyard shed                 pardon moi, but Pfizer’s so uptight

if you stuck a lump of coal up its ass in a week you’d have a Marquis diamond

because freedom’s the name for relationships that aren’t free

while our century gives the D to the Dickens

megalomania comes to mind

American flag moneyshots on Snapchat the terrorists have won

just this decade alone feels creepy for a cookie factory

or a cat fudge cathedral

where the writing of prostitutes requires a confession on yr knees

it was Wonderbra patricide father forgive me

for there’s nothing to forgive

save years of a life to forget her photogenic tits

as fake as Santa Claus & ChristianMingle virtue

all she wanted for Christmas was a set of symmetrical nipples          

when it’s boobs or college

the profit-maximizing girl doesn’t waste a second getting into the hospital gown

all the pain & none of the working at Au Bon Pain

with lingerie this sequined            it has to be uncomfortable

so remember avocado kitchenware          afterschool brownies for the kids & ECT

for you it’s almost like a good dream to dream asleep

presently it’s a nightmare of infinitely putting Starbucks on yr Audi & driving away

as in, there’s nothing worse

than a white crack lighter after Labor Day

or cropped pants & designer cankles

choked by their own self-loathing            O to be the massless masses & never eat

ideologies wrapped in bacon as horse-doovers & the main course is that awful joke

of actually eating it            with reused plastic forks out of a dumpster that has locks on it

to keep the poor people out             & the garbage Febreeze fresh

in such a post-cum era you’d think things would have changed

& you would be right because now we have sex toys that connect to iPads

iPhone          iText         iFuck          I do just about anything for a Klondike bar

& still no one wants to read my blog

 

or throw Robin Thicke’s disco stick an unforgettable party

there’s always a debt & there’s always a patsy to blame

you made yr bed         now fuck in it         trust me I’m a doctor

a magna cum loudly graduate who sports a cultivated sense of the obvious

for instance culture loves an apple ass & formal informality

while she reads Beckett in bed & a micro thong 

who plays the master the slave

the Enlightenment created the myth of rationality & universalized it

& I hear the Lesbian Mafia considers bisexuality a psychological condition

among us barbarians with too much information in our palms

the invisible hand of the market won’t give just anyone a job these days

hardly enough time for minimum wage wars let’s start a union

since definitive answers rarely appear in anybody’s prose

in the 21st century

I became my personal NSA my 1984

my own personal Jesus my own

HDTV to throw out a window

because I’m the girl of my own wet dreams

in such a post-cum era

still no cure for the common cold

but you can fuck an iPad for only $24.95!

I’m mad as hell & I’m not going to take this anymore

here, kids

have some Chicken Popper Kabobbles & a thing about pedophilia at the movies

yay, dad! we love Lunchable Poems

 

anyway, my shorty for the year:

 

FIRST LOVE & OTHER SHORTS

 

Wow, what

a sad fucking

title

 

which is sadder than shaming Edward Gropey Hands

while watching House of Cards

try to feel me up again & I’ll punch you in the dick

this happens in real life

it’s worse than filling the hole in our hearts with extravagant savings

although I’m fairly certain that’s not what Courtney Love meant

which is like posing in the center of the sun which is bullshit

I’ve never posed in the center of the sun & how does that even mean what?

 

a speed trap for hookers cock-blocked by Lean Cuisine so pretty please

burn my toast & tell me it’s Jesus

an evangelical avant-garde gone Venti-wild

for frock-star suburban cougars with Fredrick’s of Hollywood fever

megawatt flirty to fall in yr love story          I want yr fucking ass screams Polly Jean    

bent over culture’s cartoon drawing board of Naughty America directors

the Enlightenment created the myth of rationality & universalized it

that’s how Hegel gets it

a la de Sade on Special K by Sasha Grey

wielding a Jedi glass dildo             talk about hyperbole meets Depeche Mode 

now immortalized in Vegas wax by Madame Tussauds.

monkey see, monkey do you

all those Russian teens tenderly starving

who by 30 will live blind & brunette once again in need of a mimosa brunch

& a bouquet of miniature umbrellas to keep their hearts dry

from the sky & all its crying

in pale Saint Petersburg

the mascara runs thinner than bendy teens

& their sweetless dreams

 

it was the Tinder of times it was the Tumblr of times

it was the age of animation

gone Frankenstein wrong

the invisible hand of the market does strokey things

under the table in zombie stripper heaven

all these Rule 34 ponies & nowhere to run

save us, Harvey Milk! the working class

means we have no means to make capital

& thus we’re fucked to work actually 

not exactly the political identity of cultural consciousness

more Tom Selleck blowjob moustache           a blowstache in other words

in a bubble above the enormously oval gloss of anime eyes

seriously Japan? 58 DDDs & octopus rape?

& I thought idealism in the Wild West kinked macrophilia

having a stake in staking the heart of Muffy the Vampire Slayer   

 

damn it all, Ron Jeremy, keep that monolithic thing away from me!

it’s bigger than Optimus Prime & American Apparel 

in an after schoolgirl special

in the worst of times

I was bad-touched by an angel on the F train 

please no more Baby Jesus no more culture! 

 

what’s so wrong

with that distinctively classist L.L. Bean look, anyway?

she’s spent time “outdoors,” in other words

she’s never poked the bear

by which we mean:

 

buffing the beaver

shucking the oyster

stroking the magic lamp

digging your own hole

punching Jerry Garcia in the face

just reading, mom

 

in the 21st century we became red light wannabe bourgeoisie

all those Cold War babies

strutting thongs in heels for schoolboy newbies

to porn I mean culture

not shit on the soup but Visa gift cards

or let’s fuck on my yacht & upload the video to Pornhub

I’m just sticking my head in my backpack & smoking meth

since Pandora spray tans her Brazilian box

of course she’s the bro ho of attention

when almost nothing’s merrier than “A Special Asian Gangbang Christmas”

simply a repetitive metaphysical theme in the global disco inferno

don’t we all deserve narrative context

rather than the 5 minutes of fame clip

made by empty French promises when it’s the eleventh amateur hour

she’s so gonzo-Fordist she’s making me sexist

 

OMG Paris please STFU & try ECT already

it’s SO couture trendy!

70% of all procedures are made-to-measure for women! 

 

although I hear it did wonders for L. Ron Hubbard & Ronald McDonald

we could show you the statistics but then we’d have to kill you

or do that thing where pirates cut out yr tongue and then wear it on a belt

or is that just my next door neighbor?          sorry what were you saying?

this poem should have a massive trigger warning in effect but the Internet

called me a huge whore in the comments section of a naked selfie

which was really a selfless gesture           in my honest opinion

men should have to wear bells on their dicks so we know if I’m attractive

 

enough about porn and me, can we talk about me for a little bit?

or you could just Google me

 

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of the perfect emoji sequence

the only reason we’re still here physically           as though reason’s necessary

America kills her favorite sons & makes her daughters wear dresses

it must be something in the water          thanks, fracking

I’ve seen fire & I’ve seen acid rain & sometimes I think this is the second coming

of that adorable baby manger Jesus enraged by all of THE GAYS

“A Movie So Perverse You Will Cry Tears of Actual Blood”

but only if you’re a woman because big boys don’t cry

the tears come out in their semen, or something          idk I was stoned in health class

but the real text message is always carry a banana for yr condom just in case

& no sex on the first date unless he has a knife

 

there’s some rapture in all this rape

one suit reaches into yr broke asshole & exclaims

                                                  “hold on! I think I left my Rolex up there!”

there’s some Gary Larson laughter & Dewar’s on the rocks & you

                    crying yrself to dreams of investment bankers

all of whom are named Zeus

the Mr. Rogers rapist in yr mythic neighborhood

O Callisto O Alcmene, O Europa & Leda & Danaë!  

you’ve all given art school so much to teach!

where O where did our Gustave Moreau go?

& how much is that Titian worth?

 

capitalist skies gonna clear up, put on a happy face for daddy & don’t go to art school

          it just makes you wonder                              if children are our future

are Dance Moms napalm?

 

this poem is bad feminist cat calls to freedom

& all I get back is 4chan calling me a faggot

so welcome to the 21st century

under the impression of a New Age thumb

 that Wicca’s a mode of interior design

& the Jimmy Buffet of prostitutes sings feel good singles

about deepthroating aesthetics

even some ancient Greek realized the need to invent a word

pornographos

the “writing of prostitutes”

 when prostitution means “exposing one to lust”

how salacious to publish a real poem I mean it’s turning Japanese:

square watermelons

banana slipcases

silent karaoke

diet water

shoebrellas

boyfriend pillows

used panty vending machines & anti-rape dresses

    (who wouldn’t want to stroll incognito through Okinawa’s witching hour

 looking like a Halloween Coke machine?) 

not to mention the Datch Waifu in the closet says Lucky Pierre

you need to take that golden ass home it’s had enough

 

so forget the Romans they’re such Suicide Girl types with black hair & tattoos

they’re the new blondes with bolt-on tits

waxes Sasha poetical

those women look the same & they’re idiots

so they’re RealDolls, essentially?

by ancient Greek

think the Philosopher Kings sodomizing their beautifully studious boys

or plutocrats getting Medieval on our collective Marsellus ass

which isn’t much different than college tuition loans

in the worst of times

doesn’t saying rapey make it sound cute?

horses & whips mean rawhide

in the hickey West, partner, the ball gag stops the poetry

from describing hardcore clowns & their glittering Stanislavski

 

what are they all doing to one another in that Toyota, anyway?  

 

meanwhile, Schoolhouse Cock! airs on ABC in 1973

O Scooter Computer & Mr. Chips! tell us how “Conjunction Junction” is NOT

what we think it’s about

I mean a congressional bukake

for capitalist class slobs

snobs as though congress is the opposite of progress magic mirror on the wall

who’s the dirtiest one of all?

 

Congresswoman Pelosi celebrate Forever Stamp

commemorating Harvey Milk

 

remember, kids, semen contains zinc & calcium & tears

proven to fight tooth decay

& the dejection you slouchingly shoulder

playing the role of unwanted wallflower at the party

daydreaming about how Avatar was so beautiful

& sad & suspenseful how it made you want to be a better person

 

which is how Happy Meals used to make me feel

until one made me vomit 

 

like Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

until, of course, you smoke it with your asshole on a beach in Tijuana

talk about a Dirty Sanchez I hear myself asking “How are you?” while I think

“Shouldn’t you be jerking off?”

 

well aren’t you the sassy rapper, says Wackadoo Feynman

quantum theory describes nature as absurd

from the point of view of common sense

 

SCIENTISTS:

ALL MEN

LOOK AT PORN

 

Researchers at the

University of Montreal

have come to the stunning

conclusion that

men look at pornography.

All of them.

The Canadian scientists

originally wanted to com-

pare non-porn viewers

with their visually-randy

counterparts, but stum-

bled upon a problem: They

discovered that the former

group doesn’t exist.

“We started our re-

search seeking men in

their 20s who had never

consumed pornography,”

said professor Simon Louis

Lajeunesse. “We couldn’t

find any.”

 

have you ever imagined yr child masturbating?

do you fear

they will fall into the grip (ahem) of Satan? safely train your children

to keep their hands away from their DANGEROUS SIN ZONES

& O heavens keep them away from The Baby Jesus Butt Plug

with this new & improved Anti-Masturbation Cross

even more horrifying, says the Internet, you can use him

as the ultimate pacifier

or make Baby Jesus the centerpiece of yr magnificent Dildo Crèche

as though Aphrodite nightly doesn’t goad a poet on

she flaunts an undead army of online followers it’s a modern living

  never mind the gynocentric X & Y dialectic

more Cartesian mindfuckery from the makers of Man

& the destroyers of Linda Lovelace 

 

aren’t we all prisoners in paradise along with Big John Holmes

this wonderland promising quick miracles & low-income projects

   dead by AIDS in 1988

poor souls who suffer pleasure & birthright wrongs

America kills her favorite sons & makes her daughters dress in smiles

in the 20th century I grew up tragically unentertaining

before you were busy

praying to L.A. for perfect nipples & a Klondike bar

 

we don’t need our attention anymore it’s all sold to us

 

which is the most terrifying experience anyone could have

without knowing it

 

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