Updated: Jul 19, 2024
Your Own Personal Josie
Yes, you refused me many years ago,
My splinter you removed, so soft you pulled
On old Christmas night below mistletoe.
And now your love’s winter, so hard, so cold.
Yes, you should have kissed me, you silly scamp.
Look at you now, you lurk the haunts of sin.
Should you rewind time, would your life revamp?
Like love’s old sweet song. Oh, what could have been.
Now stop resisting, Mr. Bloom, be bold,
It’s not too late to reach out, to touch me,
I’m not my best friend, I will not cuckold.
Have faith, I’m your own personal Josie.
I’ll revive your love, I’ll redeem your life.
I’ll repeat yes, yes, as well as your wife.
Stay tuned for more depeche sonnets.
Same testy time, same bestie channel.
The Citizen
I met the Nameless One outside the pub,
He said- “The giant in Barney Kiernan’s
Stands for Erin, his own exclusive club.
He’s mighty, too vast are his dimensions.
His blazing breath scolds until you smolder
Like a slagheap, his blistering lips lie
On a great gob that could gulp a boulder.
But his sight’s neared, winked by his small cold eye.
From his barstool, these antique words he drops:
‘I’m your Savior, my name is Citizen!
Son of the sea god, I am the cyclops!
Who let them in? These foreigners are sin!’”
But on-site of that Bloomsday collision
Bloom won the day with his greater vision.
Stay tuned for more Shelleyesque sonnets.
Same Percy time, same Bysshey channel.
Ulysses Edition Questions
Why the mouth foam over which edition?
What zealot made this a competition?
Do they bow to Blakean tradition?
And think friendship lies in opposition?
Or is this lust for incineration?
Could they truly crave book-conflagration?
Is their secret urge self-immolation?
Or ice-cold total annihilation?
Do they prance down the road to perdition?
Masking priggery as erudition?
What’s next with these prudes? Prohibition?
Or call some smart-ass semiotician?
How to end this Joycean Inquisition?
Just embrace the joys of juxtaposition.