I Wanted to Write Something Serious

By: Vampyre Mike Kassel

I wanted to write something serious,
a page that would ignite when exposed to air.
I wanted to dive deep into my soul
and swim back to the surface
with some big bloody truth clenched between my teeth.
I wanted something that would burn in the mind
like a malarial fever
you could never quite put out.
Something that would inspire
lust and revulsion simultaneously.
Something so dangerous
that Bush would have to send an invasion force
deep into my head.
Something that would replace the Gideon Bible
in the hotel drawers of the world.
Something so big, so beautiful and so true
that the sun would immediately eclipse himself
because he knew we were onto him.
I wanted to write something more addictive than crack,
more debilitating than love,
and more destructive than religion.
I wanted to make the moon weep.
I wanted to build a mirror so cruelly true
that it would send all the yuppie lawyers
and investment bankers
howling into the bush to make honest livings
as highwaymen, headhunters and horse thieves.
I wanted to write something that Ringo would understand,
something God would not forgive,
something the Weekly World News would refuse to print
because it was in bad taste.
I wanted to write something that would make
Rimbaud and Baudelaire
grind their teeth in envy
and throw their pens at the moon.
I wanted to give Poe the willies.
I wanted to make nuns wet their pants.
I wanted to make dogs howl, highways tremble,
and hair grow on grandma’s bald head.
I wanted to write something
that would make everyone illiterate.
I wanted to write something so beautiful
that it would make every woman in the world
fall in love with me
so I could break their hearts simultaneously.
I wanted to write something that would make money chuckle.
I wanted to write something that would cure cancer
and then kill you anyways.
I wanted a poem
A real poem.
A Robert Graves spit in the eye
this is the way the Iliad goes
so early in the morning dance round the campfire
roses are red barnburner of a walloping good God
did he really say that
motherfucking mouthful of meat
bad ass bitch of a poem
poem.
Know what I mean?
But
just as I got the paper in the machine
Della switched on “The Flintstones”
And all that came out of the typewriter
Was
Yabba dabba doo.
from Wild Kingdom

You can find the poetic works of Vampyre Mike Kassel at Zeitgeist Press.

In a few short weeks, you can hear Julia, David Lerner, Vampyre Mike Cassell, and a potpourri of Babarian readings via the following never-heard-before audio recordings that will be offered as thank-you gifts for your tax-deductible donation in support of the in-progress feature documentary, Julia Vinograd: Between Spirit and Stone.  

• An entire evening of Café Babar readings featuring 15 poets recorded on June 23, 1988.  

• Poet Bucky Sinister reading his essay about the Café Babar, Julia Vinograd, Poetry Heckler from Our Lady of Telegraph Avenue: Tributes to Julia Vinograd (Zeitgeist Press).  

• Julia reciting 14 poems from The Book of Jerusalem that director Ken Paul Rosenthal recorded in her apartment in 1991.  

These audio confections will sweeten your ears on Giving Tuesday, November 28, 2023 via the film’s website.

Stay tuned to Poetic Outlaws for the link soon!