Rocketradio receives hundreds of e-mails everyday from our incredibly enthusiastic fans. I can't thank you enough for your thoughtful stock tips, the amazing discounts on all of my favourite medications, and most especially, your kind and generous offers of a larger and harder penis. To you, I say "YOU'RE THE BEST!", because of course, I believe a girl can never have too much cash or cock.But sometimes you really blow me away, and send me touching poems that are far too beautiful to keep to myself:
yo Ernestine
my stacks poised to explode,
TICK-tick tick
see what everyone else knows
deeply Sonia
A heartfelt thanks to "Q Gayle" for her fine literary contribution to our regular programming schedule. Word!
9 comments:
Yes, that certainly invites literary scrutiny. If only the author would have punctuated, so many things would have been made clearer. For example, the imagery conjured by the "stacks poised to explode" line... Pure metaphor? Why "stacks" (plural)? Or, should it be "stack's" as in "my 'stack' is poised"? Or a misspelling of "stock's" (considering it was delivered via email and could be some sort of vague stock tip). Who aong us can fully parse the metrical footprint of "TICK-tick tick"? Is that "deeply Sonia" line a closing (as in, "Deeply, Sonia")? Or, is it the continuation of the previous line, a curious enjambment ... "what everyone else knows deepy, Sonia"? One can only conclude that this poem is the work of a genius, purposely laden with ambiguity that once we question it fully, we realize the true message -- that we should also question our very lives to the same extent. Thus, who is Ernestine? I submit that we ALL are Ernestine. God damn, that's a beautiful piece. Thanks for sharing.
I remember myself being
the fool without meaning
Lost on the 'net full of wonder
knowing that I was a fucking blunder
True-meaning of non-life
That is...profound.
I used to collect the names of interesting spammers. The list got too huge though. In fact, that's a job I'd like - making up spam aliases. How freaking cool would that be?
yay
for
cock
After hours of feminist, Freudian, and Lacanian analysis, I have determined that all forms of literary criticism hold this to be the most brilliant of Shakespeare's sonnets.
That's some fucked up shit.
Oh, that's lovely.
I get dozens of spam emails a day on my work email account, and they're almost always random phrases strung together, which puts me in mind of William Burroughs's cut-up technique.
Maybe I should compile a book.
A girl can never have too much cash or cock. Now that's a motto!
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