Trojan Horse Club
You scholars need to blinker Joyce’s stead
By binding her with Cyclopy, blind eye,
And ogling Odyssey as if it’s creed
While hiding Homer’s A-side. Do tell why.
My God! What have you done, you goddamned fool!
By Stuart Gilbert we do bore our class.
His Odyssey’s the one true holy rule!
Why jam this heresy way up our ass?
What is the title of this tour de force:
The man who won the war. Your eyes have missed
The A-side that’s inside this Trojan Horse.
On paper, episode names don’t exist.
The gift of insight’s in “Helen of Joyce.”
Scales felled might feel like Hell, but sight’s a choice.
Joycespearean Sonnet 138
When preppy Gerty declares she is pure,
I must beware, how brilliant her disguise.
I’m snared between her double-dare allure.
Good Lord, grant me a tour between her thighs!
She conceives me as gentleman, genteel.
And deceives me to believe that’s the truth.
So now I’m mental! Her couture’s my ordeal,
And there’s one cure, in truth, it’s quite uncouth.
While she projects her style as prim and chaste,
Commands belief, and teases with a peek,
She’s two: up front, strait-laced; down low, debased,
Love’s war she’s won. This girl’s a super freak.
Medusa-Venus? Or Madonna-Whore?
She’s my penis flytrap, oh please, squeeze me more.
Stay tuned for more obsessing sonnets.
Same teasing time, same charming-ed channel.
On The Menu At Sweny’s Pharmacy - Reheated
Bless Sweny’s Pharmacy for these thy gifts,
And give us this day our daily James Joyce,
The meal’s Ulysses, but the menu shifts.
Whatever you crave, there’s always a choice.
With chief ingredients, Chef PJ cooks:
Italian, German, Portuguese, Spanish,
Whatever tongue you have, he has the books.
So long as he looks, Joyce will not vanish.
In short, your taste is tasted in your snout.
But mouth muscles do many a duty:
Licking, lapping, wagging, making out…
This versatility’s a fling of beauty.
So, no harm if the old tongue lacks some scope,
Just work those arm muscles and buy some soap.