Banana Boat to Hell

i'm on a banana boat to Hell
and there's no way
of getting off of it.
i stand in the bow
and stare helplessly
at the bloody Congo.
its waters are boiling, steaming
and bubbling
like the interior
of a volcano
just before it erupts.
i can't swim in it.
i can't get away.
the boat's entire crew
consists of brawny Negro zombies
who silently ignore me
and carry on
with their pre-assigned duties on deck.
their faces are ashen and pinched
and dotted with oozy sores,
and they gape bug-eyed
into nothingness.
they have various weapons
stashed in their belts-
knives, guns and machetes.
(oh yes, they can use 'em!)
the Master
who controls the wills
of these zombies
is watching me constantly.
i can't see him
but i can feel
his burning eyes
boring deep
into my very soul.
if i make
even one move
toward any beckoning glimmer
of freedom,
a few word from his lips
to the zombies' minds
will relieve me
from further advancement.
i'm hungry.
down below
in the cavernous cargo hold
are hundreds upon hundreds
of crates full of bananas.
i haven't eaten anything
in a while
and if i wanted to
i could go down
and procure a few that are ripe
and eat heartily
while my hunger pains diminish.
but i can't do it.
right underneath the bow,
right underneath where i'm standing,
lurking behind the large crates
full of bananas
is the largest,
ugliest,
leggiest,
and furriest
damn tarantula
i ever did see.
i'm the only white meat
on this boat,
and it considers white meat
a rare delicacy.
if i go down there
it'll pounce on me
quicker than a cheetah.
it's waiting for me now.
just thinking about
it being right below me
sends cold shivers
up and down my spine.
God, i'm glad that this deck
can hold up my weight!
but there's no way off
of this banana boat
headed straight to Hell.
nope.
no way.



HELP ME SOMEBODY!!
FOR GOD'S SAKE,
SOMEBODY
HELP MEEEEEEEEEEE!!



DB/c1991,2015

Aggie Dovecote and All Her Pals: Part 2, Chapter 1

        
                                                           I


                                         Chiswick, West London
                                                    July, 1929

                             

  Mary Montague lolls uncomfortably on a chaise lounge in her drawing room as a stifling Summer heat wave burns the golden London afternoon. The front door and windows are thrown wide open to relieve some of the intolerable heaviness indoors, and four tall oscillating fans blast strong waves of air from different areas of the room, their collective whirring as yet unable to drown out the sweet a capella soprano voice of Miss Lidia Belzoni of the Royal London Opera. She stands alone in front of a modest, off-white tiled fireplace with an oblong mirror set in a Rococo gilt frame hovering above it.
 "My God, I really don't think these fans are adequate. Not even close," Mary sighs drowsily. "Probably should've bought some more, or even better one of those new electric cold air boxes. Then we'd be in the business! Still I must admit that it doesn't feel quite as bad in here as it did before. Ag, how are you over there? Cool enough?"
 Agrippina 'Aggie' Dovecote lies prone on a matching chaise lounge across from Mary, her bare white arm draped lazily over her eyes. "Mm," she mumbles.
 "Aggie? Did you hear me?"
 "What?! No!" Aggie exclaims. "Too much doggoned fan noise!"
 "Pfft! There's really not that much," Mary protests. "You just don't want to talk."
 "Well, maybe this bloody infernal weather doesn't much put me in a talky mood, does it!"
 "No, I suppose it wouldn't. Perhaps you'd like a Schmpf, Ag?" an undaunted Mary asks brightly, pointing to a covered deal table set up in front of the curtained sitting room. On the tabletop squats again the iron tub glutted with melting ice and bottles of wine, champagne and Schmpf beer. Only a handful of plates, glasses and cutlery are off to the side, the finger foods being unappetizing plates of wilting crudites and stale-looking hors d'oeuvres attracting some interested blue bottle flies.
 Aggie removes her arm from her eyes and glares at the ceiling. "No, not yet! For God's sake, Mary, I just fucking arrived here not ten minutes ago! It's absolutely horrid weather outside! So all I really want to do is just lie down, take in these lovely breezes because there sure as shootin' aren't any out there and-" She gasps and covers her mouth. "Oh, damn!"
 "What?"
 "I'm being a rude guest, aren't I? Mary, I'm so sorry-"
 "Don't you dare apologize, Ag," says Mary as she shifts her body to a sitting position in the middle of her chaise lounge. "I don't blame you for being cross. It really is quite a scorcher today, and you probably didn't even need to come, considering..." She motions to the vast, guest-less space around them save where Lidia stands but also where the naked, masked men of the 'Living Art' piece 'Titans of the White Nepenthe' are accommodating the usual group of 'Nepenthe' aficionados.
 Aggie smiles. "No, I'm happy I came. I always am. Even more so now because none of them are here! Besides it gives me the opportunity to show off your birthday gift." She slowly rises and sashays in place while flaunting her peach-colored Summer frock. "I absolutely adore it, and the matching hat, too!"
 "I'm glad you like them."
 "I really needed a new dress. You did say it wasn't too dear, right?"
 "Ag, I told you not to concern yourself with that! It's a gift!"
 "All right. But I do want to thank you again for it, so thank you again, Mary."
 "Of course! And again, happy birthday!"
 "And again, thank you. Right, this is getting nuts. Now I'm going to sit down...no, actually now I'm going to go get a damned Schmpf! And after I do perhaps you can tell me about your own interesting...well, as dear old Ginny would have put it, ensemble."
 "Yes, of course. Bring me one too, love, if you'd be so kind."
 "Ugh! Why bother with any food at all?" Aggie says with disgust as she shoos some flies away from her head and opens up two beers. "Nobody will be hungry now, anyway. And they darn well won't want any of this."
 "I know, it was all an afterthought. The cold drinks were a bit more important. And I'm really only expecting at the most Di and Addie to come today. I did want to invite back Ginny, Tim, Poppy and...and Teddy, but after last time..."
 "We can discuss them later. First, ensemble. Here's your beer, nice and cold. Just the thing for such a hideous afternoon. Cheers!"
 "Perfect! Cheers, Ag! And I did actually ring Ginny about a month ago to ask if she would still like come today but...something was odd. I didn't want to tell you, but-"
 "No, Mary, I said I'd rather not discuss those people now. Please. It feels much too uncomfortable to think of them, not least because of the weather."
 "Well-"
 "Ensemble!" Aggie barks comically while clapping her hands. "Ensemble! Tout suite!"
 "Merde! All right, all right! But first I really must ask, do you like it?"
 Aggie kisses the air. "I love it! And I love that I'm having such a positive influence on you!"
 Mary sighs breathily as she dabs the bottle all over her perspiring bare breasts before lodging it in the crotch of her grey pleated trousers. "Ooh, yes, that feels so nice!"
 "Good. En-sem-ble!"
 "Well, you remember when I told you back in April about missing wearing those trousers when I was George Sand at last year's party, right?
 "Yes, of course I do. And I can plainly see that you have them on now, but why? What led to that and the semi-nudity?"
 Mary gulps down some more beer and emits a little belch. "Oh, excuse me! I was sitting at my cluttered dressing table this morning and accidentally nudged off one of my cold cream jars. It was closed but it rolled down onto the floor and stopped just a little ways under my bed. I went to get it and just as I picked it up I happened to spot something I had absolutely forgotten was under there."
 "What?"
 "Daddy's old tin bath, the one he had back when he was a tough young Uitlander digging for gold in the Transvaal. He used it every night in his tiny pup tent to scrub off all the grime and sweat from each day's mining."
 "Good old Bascom. Didn't he always pan the bathwater afterward for loose gold flakes?"
 "You know he did. Anyway, I managed to get myself all dusty whilst pulling it out but it still looked just like I remembered it except for a few rust stains here and there. Then it suddenly occurred to me that...well, I hadn't dressed yet..."
 "Are we close to the ensemble part yet?"
 "Yes, Aggie!" Mary answers testily. "I had Cadwyn fill it water from the other tub. She wasn't at all happy about it, blathering on in Welsh with a smidge of English added, and I'm not quite sure but I think I heard in the guttural the words 'tyranny', 'plumbing' and '20th century'. Hmpf! It wasn't like she was filling up a bloody Olympic-sized swimming pool or anything like that! Just needed at least three or four bucketfuls!"
 "How was it?"
 "It was an interesting diff from a normal one, I'll say that much. Unfortunately all I really did was spend almost twenty minutes trying to get comfortable - first flopping about like a fish as I tried to sit in it whilst arching my legs over the rim and anchoring my wet feet in the carpet, then squatting down awkwardly and sponging water over my neck and back like a Degas model. All uncomfortable. Daddy must have been much more adapted to it than I am, 'cos in the end I just stood and dowsed myself with water. Quite nice, actually. Intimate. Might try it again sometime.
 "What was Cadwyn doing this whole time?"
 "Standing there gawping and being useless. Of course she'd never seen her mistress squirming and splashing about naked in a little bath before, or naked at all, really. I'd say she was mostly in shock. Remember she kept a housemaid's position here, not one as a lady's maid."
 "'Kept'?"
 "She gave notice after I had her blow talcum powder on me in the bathroom after I lightly toweled off. Oh, that feels so good on a hot morning! Shame it didn't keep. I suppose the last straw was having her hold these famous trousers open as I stepped in them and then informed her I was now fully dressed for the soiree, formalities be damned, and why not? But now she's gone and my bathroom floor is covered in talcum powder and I had to lay out those drinks and horrible food platters myself, because Cook is away on holiday, you know, and it's been..." She sighs. "But you know, the oddest thing is that I haven't missed Cadwyn yet, thinking she'll return any second now. And she really was quite a fine, hard-working maid, too. If I'd thought she was feeling that put-upon I'd have...well, perhaps a nice rise might've been in order. Damn. Then at about eleven those poor lads arrived to set up for that tiresome 'White Nepenthe' rubbish. And damn me if there wasn't tailing right behind 'em a queue of-well, you see them right there! Sniff snort sniff! Pathetic! But so far they're the only ones of the so-called 'creme de la creme'-"
"Sour 'creme', actually," interjects Aggie.
 Mary laughs. "Exactly, who've shown up. Then the real class showed up in the shape of Lidia, who was a bit surprised I decided against an orchestra this time, but so far she's been performing wonderfully." She turns to wave at Lidia, who smiles and flutters her fingers. "No novelty songs, only arias so far. Mostly Puccini. I don't mind one bit. Beautiful. Then you arrived almost an hour late, as usual."
 Aggie shrugs. "In my defense I completely forgot in all this mind-numbing heat how to wear my hat and shoes. Took me the better part of an hour to get it right. I must say, though, I really looked quite fetching even with these chintzy 'Merdes' on my head."
 "You would look just as fetching wearing anything atop that noggin, Ag. Mad, but fetching."
 "Aw, thanks! Incidentally did anyone comment on your ensemble when they arrived?"
 "Not really. The 'Titans' gawped, Lidia winked. The others clearly have other interests."
 "What do you think they'll do?" asked Aggie, nodding to the front door.
 "Who?" Mary looks over to see Diana Dumont in a struggle to carry her partner-in-painting Floradora 'Adora' Canning through the doorway.
 "Why, sweetie darling, this isn't our honeymoon love nest, is it?!" Adora gasps in feigned girlish shock. "It's already got people in it already, doesn't it?! And one of them's got her lovely wet bosoms out!"
 "Ouch!" grunts Diana. "I say, you're quite right, my own, um, darling dearest honey pumpkin-oh, Christ! Perhaps it is-no, no, I've had enough, Addie! Don't get me wrong, you're light as a feather, but I'm already fatigued and it's really much too blazing hot for this shit! Playacting over! Down you go!"
 "Fair enough, sweetikins, I mean, Di. Thank you! Now, time for drinks!"
 "To answer your question, Ag," Mary says, "I'd say perhaps gawp, wink and grope!"




                                           TO BE CONTINUED





 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 

 
  

  
 

                                         





                                                  
            
                                   





                                                

Courtin' On The Continent!

I. Wooin' Miss Enfield!

She's tall an' dark,
an' she'll kinder kick ya
when she's layin' for an' argument
that ain't nothin' to do with ya.
But she's true blue an'll do yer biddin'
'long's you allus treat 'er decent,
keep her fed and clean an' allat.
The best thing is she's already got
hundreds o' thousands
of beautiful sisters o' equal measure,
an' each with her very own beau!
Oh yeh! They're never without one!
You can sometimes even see whole troops of lasses an' lads
promenadin' thro' field an' forest, 
coppice an' valley,
an' the lasses sometimes 'ave on
the latest 'at from Paris -
the bay-yon-net, if I'm sayin' it right.
How keen they all look
when they're a-marchin' in the noonday sun!
An' when they get to th' Line,
why, it's a reg'lar dance, innit?
'Cept the girls allus lead,
an' like I said they'll kick ya,
but only when they're
'avin' some turrible rows
with their rivals the Misses Mausers!


II. Dancin' With The Baroness Maxim!

Now that's some kinder wooman!
Shame she keeps such tight comp'ny
with them awful Jerries.
But I must say
she's been quite a smasher with us,
and no mistake.
Why, you should see how so many o' our lads
all go rushin' headlong o'er th' Line
an' over that gawd-forsakin' wasteland
just to even get a peep at 'er.
Well, they kinder don't, but the Baroness ain't so lah-di-da
'cos she does talk bold as brass to 'em.
An' when she speaks they do like
these happy little jigs in 'er 'onner,
not unlike Montez doin' her taran-teller bit,
and then fall down right dead at 'er feet.
Blimey! A right reg'lar man-killer she is, dontcha know.


III. Kissin' Frau Bertha!

Hahahahahahahahahahaha!
An' speak-AN' SPEAKIN' O' MAN-KILLERS,
WE GOT A RIGHT ONE-ER OF A STUNNER
IN FRAU BERTHA VON ESSEN!! OH YES!!
BIG GIRL!! BIG BIG GIRL!!! Hahahaha!
NO SENSE O' HUMOR AT ALL!!
CHRIST, SHE-hahaha!-SHE LIKES TO
PLAY TH' ZAN-THIPPY ON US POOR CHAPS, NO MISTAKE!!
OH, B'LIEVE ME, NO ONE WANTS TO
BE OUT THERE WHEN SHE'S LAYIN' ALL
SORTS O' LOUD-AN' I MEAN LOUD-VI'LENT ABUSE
ON US FROM TH' JERRY SIDE!!
Hahahahahahahahaha!
IT'S JUST-IT'S ALL WE C'N DO
TO JUST FUCKIN' COWER IN OUR BARRACKS
'TIL SHE'S DONE POUNDIN' ON US!!
AN' CHRIST, THAT CAN LAST FER DAYS!! DAYS!!
DAYSDAYSDAISYDAYSDAYS!!! Hahahahahaha!
OH, SHE HATES US, THAT ONE DOES!!
SHE MAKES THE BARONESS LOOK LIKE MARY BLOODY PICKFORD!!
Hahaha! TOOTOO TRUE!!
AN' YOU REALLY DO NOT WANT A KISS FROM BIG OL' BERTHA!!
NONONONONO, YOU DO NOT!!
NOT IF YOU VALUE YER LIPS, OR YER FACE
OR YER HEAD,
OR JEST YER WHOLE FUCKIN BODY!!
Hahahahahaha!
'COS I SEEN!! I SEEN!! I SEEN WHAT TH' BITCH DONE TO OUR LADS!!
I SEEN IT!! AN' SHE AIN'T GONNA GET AWAY WITH IT!!
YA HEAR THAT, YA COLD HUN SLAG?!!
YA AIN'T-!




DB/2015

Uber Nacht

a hansom barouche cabriolet

dandy lion wine

telly's gone off,
radio's still on (is that you, Wodehouse?)

sweet St. Basil snowglobe scene
        lions trot
        foxes roar
(the deuce you say!)

Lady Cottington's faeries
                            alive
       roam the blue
                         forests
               uber Nacht

Lily Langtry (nude) on a
       pedestal in a
           fountain in a
                       glen
 worshipped by men

Evelyn Nesbit weeps
    + i hold her hand
 (Stanny's grave is in an
                   ivory
                      tower)

+ Jeremy Bentham's Body
                     roams the
                             halls at the
                                U of L
                  uber Nacht


Music: 'Pictures of Lily' by The Who

DB/c1996, 2015

Skies Are Blue

cossacks on horseback flailing knouts,
  chasing YOU
forcing you to take the place of the
  Wandering JEW
d'ya like this poem so far? thought i'd try
  something NEW
grass is green, butterflies are free, England is pretty,
  and skies are BLUE



DB/c1996

Disappointed

Well, here we finally are, Freddie, 
at the Branwell's bloody dinner party
all the way out in bloody Kent, just like you bloody wanted!
And after we've just had one of the worst rows since, well, 
the one before it! Day before yesterday, I think.
But Christ, there really have been so many 
in the past ten years, haven't there, Freddie?
It's getting so I can barely remember the lovely times we had anymore.
And the Branwells were always your friends, too, yes? So I don't see
why I couldn't just as well have stayed at home and you
could simply have offered an excuse for me
instead of insisting I accompany you "for appearances sake." 
Really? So I'm to be the good, dutiful wife,
the steadfast little Helen, is that it? How pointless!
I mean, you really act as if they didn't know the truth, Freddie!
I've accused you in the past of telling them I'm to blame
and of course you'd always scoff at me about that,
but strewth! I know! 
You think I don't? 
They always take your bloody side!
And I know because I've seen it when they look at me
with their polite sneers,
and I can hear them talking about me 
even when I'm within earshot! 
And when they speak - or should I say, deign to speak to me
its always with a, I don't know, a cool familiarity,
not quite unfriendly but not all-embracing, either.
You've always fiercely denied that but it's true.
I've always always tried to be as nice and polite 
as I possibly can to them but...
What's really hurt me is you saying I'm the problem,
which-no, harping on it only makes me angrier.
But I know because once again I'm sitting
here alone at table with my thoughts
watching these succulent entrees being laid down
while you're standing at the bottom of it with the others 
telling those silly jokes and anecdotes
that produce that tepid laughter and applause
you somehow manage to believe
is always so boisterous and appreciative.
But it's really mostly that yipping Yorkie
who's your biggest admirer.


I must say,
just to mull over the positives for a change,
and there actually were some,
we did have some lovely times, didn't we, Freddie?
I rarely think positive thoughts about us when I'm here
but perhaps I'll give it a go now.
For instance do you remember our thrilling European honeymoon trip
and then a year later to, let's see, Mexico, South Africa, Ceylon, Vietnam,Tahiti 
and New Zealand? Extraordinary!
"I say, we have had the grandest of all the Grand Tours!" you roared at home, arms on your hips,
and I laughed and clapped like a silly schoolgirl on Christmas morning.
We were happy, weren't we, Freddie?
Always (well, almost always) happy together
though we could never produce any-no, stop it, Helen! 
Stop! Not that again! 
Think about something else!
Hum.
That glazed ham really looks quite delicious!
I should consider asking Edwina for the-
Oh, for Christ's sake, not that! Nothing so banal!
Something...ah! Worth a try.
Freddie, we are most definitely not a telepathic couple 
even after ten years of wedded hiss-I mean, bliss.
But if you could try to read my thoughts,
which you being an obtuse male I highly doubt,
I want to ask one thing of you
which I hope you'll grant me even now,
because I'd really love you to do it
despite the row we've just had.
Don't fret, it's nothing difficult.
I'd...I'd like you to just sit down next to me at dinner. Please.
Yes, I know there's no reason for you not to
because you were the one wanted
to keep up appearances here,
but I do hope you'll do it,
and I shall be more civil than I was before.
We needn't chat much
because I think we've hissed quite enough for one day!
Perhaps later we can talk it out again and make it better
like we've always done before.
I suppose I should try my best puppy pout on you.
You know it, right, Freddie? 
It's the one I coaxed you with
into buying a big slab of that heavenly Sacher Torte in Vienna 
a little before we had tiffin,
and we shared it with some cold milk 
and talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company
as we watched the sun rise 
over those glorious snow-capped mountains.
I think that was the best breakfast I ever ate with you.
I-I really loved you then. I did.
And now...wait, who's that woman you're speaking to?
Did she just arrive here? 
Late dinner guest, I suppose.
Very pretty. Bit too doting on you.
At any rate she seems fairly amused by your jokes
if I judge rightly from that squawking laugh of hers.
Strewth!
Oh! Now you're looking at me
but...that's a rather fixed, icy smile, I must say! 
Not a good sign. Don't like it at all.
All right, then, here you come,
and now here we go!

"Hello, Helen. No, don't speak, and don't use that damned fey pout with me! I detest it! I just wanted to inform you that that lady I've been chatting with over there is Clare, an old friend-no, I shan't lie, an old amour of mine that I hadn't seen for ages. Edwina invited her here without my knowing and, well, as long as she's here I'll be sitting with her at dinner tonight. I realize you'll howl, I mean protest vehemently and we'll just begin it again when we get home but...no, I'm tired. You'll just have to keep up your end of it, I'm afraid. So...ah! here comes a good girl! Look, Helen! Toffy here can keep you company if you feel lonely 'cos I know how much you love dogs. Isn't that nice? Well, that's it, I suppose. I'll be down there with Clare if you need me at all, but don't expect us to leave for quite a bit. Now I'm off. Bon appetite, Helen!"

 ____________________________________________________________
 

  About a hundred yards south of Branwell Manor lay a large pond situated between the rolling lawn and a massive swath of dark forest just beyond. To the east of it stood a uniform row of poplars with a rigid picket fence stretching alongside, gate-less except for a stile to serve as a short-cut from the demesne to the narrow road nearby, and vice versa. The pond was bordered here and there with cattails and tall grasses, the crickets flitting through them chirping their evening choruses in unison with the croaking frogs perched on their clusters of lily pads. This harmony went largely uninterrupted when suddenly there was a heavy thrashing about in the water that stopped minutes before the bright moon slid out from behind the inky clouds. Though Nature's music continued loud and undimmed and the pond itself reclaimed its former serenity, there was one difference: a woman's dress, undergarments and heels strewn across the grass at the pond's eastern edge.
 But no woman.
 Around the same time Edwina Branwell, her husband Dick and some of their other guests who remained after dinner looked on with smiles of approval at a couple swaying intimately to the gentle cadences of a phonographic waltz.
 Freddie and Clare's shared chemistry, they all agreed, was undeniable.



DB/c12/1997-1/98, 2015

Music: 'Our Frank' by Morrissey 











Ahh, that was a nice, unnecessary 
sort-of swim!
Feels odd and even a bit primal 
being naked out here like this,
so I should get dressed quickly
and tick off what I've done 
and what still needs doing.
Let's see:
I excused myself away from those awful people, 
rang him up,
successfully evaded that damned dog,
went out to the car,
used the extra key I had made
to retrieve my bag of extra clothes and shoes
I had stashed in the boot
(thank God I wasn't seen!), 
hurried over here,
put the bag over the stile,
stripped and strew my old clothes about,
had my cold, splashy bathe,
toweled off, just got dressed, leapt over the stile
and now...ah! I'm ready and waiting
for my second chance, 
and he should be arriving here soon.

I am sorry about this, Freddie,
the way I'm leaving you. 
Bit of a dramatic escape, I know, but there it is.
You'd never believe I'm sorry but it's the truth.
I'd rather not have done this at all
because a divorce would doubtless be more sensible,
though really heartbreaking for me,
but I need to,
and you've clearly shown me why. 
We were already near the breaking point
because lately there's been more hissing than kissing.
I was-hoping after tonight we could really try...
if you had just sat down next to me perhaps...
but...no, 
I saw how you looked at her. Clare, was it?
I saw, Freddie.
It was that old honeymoon love-light 
shining in your eyes.
I remember.
I once had it, too.

I-I hope you'll both be just as happy
as we'd been. For the most part.
Be sure to note my footprints right around here
before you dredge up this lovely pond
looking for my pale, naked corpse.
If you'll still care, that is.

Ah, here he comes.

For what it's worth,
I did love you.

I do love you.


Goodbye, Freddie.

On Our Way To Gran'ma's House!

drive over the infinite stretch
of concrete
beautiful yet ugly
glorious yet libeled
we're just another bug
on another endless trail
going nowhere
pass by a sea of marble
(Born Died)
and then a place
that reminds me a little
of Volo Bog
apartment houses
of questionable architecture
not of this decade
black people live there(?)
two old men:
"couldn't care less
about this Jim Morrison guy
i got other things
to think about
i'm old
really old"

_____________________________________________________________


Topkapi Blues

thru the palace i stalk
mystic missing concubines
who do not want to talk



DB/11.9.91, 2015