This is just poetry. It won't save you, but it may locate you so that a rescue party can be sent out. — Dean Blehert

Saturday, May 30, 2009

They Sperm Men On--And What Eggs THEM On?

[I will be off email for about a week--tomorrow too busy, and for 5 days following, out of town, so here are poems for the next week.]

An orgasm is the cummulative
of their entire lifetimes
before the eyes of three hundred million
drowning sperm.

[Note: Hmmm--seems kind of sexist, since it would apply best to a male orgasm.]

I'm eating so much fiber
I've become a bulk male.

[Note: For the pun-challenged, bulk male/bulk mail, and fiber is said to provide bulk.]

TV ad cameramen--masters of the art
of showing clothes coming off
or soap slathered on, but not
what they're coming off of
or being slathered onto.

[Note: Don't feel guilty, guys, if you started to get turned on by soap sleeked onto what turned out to be the fold of an elbow or the bottom of what turned out to be a baby. And if you had some warm thoughts when the camera showed silken stuff being kicked off calves and feet, hey, that's what the sponsors wanted!]

Puberty is when the children sound like
an old banal situation comedy,
their laugh-track so frenetically inept
that you wonder if they've become
oozy and hairy yet.

[Note: Kids emotionally stressed and laughing at the wrong places are here compared to old TV sitcoms (which had wildly unreal laugh tracks, with uproarious laughter at the lamest jokes), because I wanted to get to the final pun on "Ozzie and Harriet," one of the lamest sitcoms of all time, on which, for example, the allocators of taped laughter apparently thought that little Rickie Nelson, saying week after week, "I don't mess around, boy!" was hilarious. Oddly enough, lame as it was as comedy, the show was around, it seemed, forever, on radio, then TV, I think mainly because the characters were so pleasant and "wholesome" in their bland way. For the pun-impaired, puberty is when kids get hairy (crotches, arm pits, etc.) and oozy (various "vital fluids"--for example, menstruation starts for women...); hence, one wonders if they are "oozy and hairy yet" -- or Ozzie and Harriet.]

Alcohol, drugs--people trying
to open up their heads
and let the sunshine in...
with a can opener.

[Note: I think lines 2 and 3 are based on the chorus of a pro-psychedelic song from the musical "Hair." (I say "I think" because I wrote this long ago, and don't recall for certain.)]

What happened to education?
It was killed by the Dewey Dewey fog.

[Note: There's an old folk song in which someone is killed by the foggy foggy dew. I turned that around to give John Dewey his just deserts. Dewey descended upon our educational system as a sort of toxic mist. He ran (many decades ago) the Columbia University Teacher's College. I've forgotten the details (some Googling may turn them up, or look for a book called The Leipzig Connection by Paolo Leonni--it may be online), but Dewey was part of a campaign, largely funded by Rockefellers to turn the American educational system into a means of constructing a new social order where kids weren't educated to make them literate and flexible and able to think and to bring out their abilities, but instead to encourage them to lower their standards and keep their proper place in society. The idea was that most should be put on a track to be laborers and not distracted by anything that might encourage bigger dreams. Dewey was a major proponent of the idea that education should be aimed at teaching children to be "well-adjusted." Go along to get along, conform to the environment. Don't adjust the environment to suit yourself. Much that has followed in the degeneration of our educational system was pioneered by Dewey.]

The "science" of psychiatry is mostly guesswork,
having no proven laws nor formulas. For example,
they are not certain if doubling the number
of psychiatrists would double or quadruple
the number of mentally ill people.

Psych-iatry means "healing the spirit,"
or perhaps it is "heeling, as in
"HEEL, Spirit!"


Homelessness is where the
heartlessness is.

[Note: I hope no one is unfamiliar with the old adage this is based on: "Home is where the heart is."]

[And just to get away from that string of socially bristling poems...]

Pardon me, green bug.
I meant to scoot you from the page,
not to crush you.

Dean Blehert
Blogs: (short poems) (essays and longer poems)
New book (Deanotations, Volume 1) available at

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