A poet who I respect told me the other night that my stuff wasn't really poetry because: A.) There were too many jokes, B.) I didn't slice enough arteries, and C.) It was... Gork. How can I bring myself to say it... accessible. OK, I'm a big boy now. I can face facts. I'm not in denial. If such is indeed the case, I'll deal with it. I mean, we live in an age of Elvis impersonators, imitation crab meat, Naugahyde, and Doors tribute bands. If Silicon Valley can bring you virtual reality, I can bring you virtual poetry, not my soul, but an incredible simulation. Beatnikmania. A concoction spun out of smoke, mirrors, and crododile tears. Come take a ride thru the theme park of my heart. I'll spit Hollywood blood for you. I'll tell you hard luck stories. I'll show you plasticine wounds. I'll give you hired mourners, tragic confessions, giant inflatable dead lover dolls. What do you want, honey? What makes it good for you? What do you mean, "Don't I have any integrity?" I can do integrity if that's what gets you off. I mean, if only blood clots are art and punch lines are jive, I can learn. I'm versatile. I'll cry those ninety-six tears. I'll develop stigmata on command. I'll sign up for superflous suffering in order to keep up my standing in the community. But if you're wrong, when you die you'll go to hell and spend eternity having Groucho Marx tickle your naked foot with Edgar Allen Poe's plumed pen.
From Zeitgeist Press: Vampyre Mike Kassel was a poet, musician, songwriter, and playwright. He resided in San Francisco after having been run out of Boston for crimes against normalcy. He held the S. F. record for most times evicted. He liked sincere girls who didn’t wear too much makeup and who put out on the first date.
M.A. Kassel wrote, published, and performed enthusiastically in the San Francisco poetry and music scene for decades. He died in 2008, and will be mourned by many women and several cats.
You can find Kassel’s poetic works at Zeitgeist Press.
Very nice. Started out like a snowflake and ended like an avalanche, rushing down the mountain taking everything in its path.
One of the things I appreciate about Poetic Outlaws is how I get introduced to amazing poets whom I’d not yet discovered.