K.M.A.
-Will you tell him he can kiss my arse? Myles Crawford said throwing out his arm for emphasis. Tell him that straight from the stable.
- Ulysses, James Joyce
Kate’s KMAUKC
Mother’s counter to a hullabaloo:
"They can kiss my ass under Kaufman’s clock."
Like James Joyce, she’s NSFW.
Pick with these Irish and they’ll rock and sock.
Joyce’s jab, K.M.A., may first seem sparse,
But his punches come in bunches, combos
Like “He can kiss my royal Irish arse.”
That’s how the sweet scientists clinch KOs.
Now where was this low blow born? IDK?
This infight invite to kiss arse and ass?
Dublin? Pittsburgh? Some rest stop off the parkway?
Or somewhere hidden in the Catholic Mass?
If you give their ass a peck with your beak,
FYI, they will turn the other cheek.
Subscribe and stay tuned for more Backside Sonnets.
Same Bootylicious Time, same Badonkadonk Channel.
“Ah, I’m hungry.”
- Leopold “Poldy” Bloom
A Bloomsgiving Prayer
Bless us, oh Poldy for this thy buffet,
Organs of beast and fowl, eaten in bliss.
Breakfast is the meaty meal of Bloom’s day,
Complete with grilled kidney’s sour kiss of piss.
Bloom craves the hams of girls’ vigorous hips,
He tastes the melons of Molly’s plump rump,
And savors her sticky gumjelly lips.
Treats sweeter than the sweetest sugar lump.
Is this mashed-up menu a mortal sin?
A cannibal orgy strange to behold?
Evil, unbalanced meals, Yang without Yin?
"God made food, the devil the cooks,” I’m told.
Bloom’s human hunger may be worse than quirky,
But tastier than Thanksgiving turkey.
Subscribe and stay tuned for more Leopold Litanies.
Same theocratic time, same cultish channel.
“BLOOM: Gentlemen of the jury, let me explain. A pure mare’s nest. I am a man misunderstood. I am being made a scapegoat of. I am a respectable married man, without a stain on my character. I live in Eccles street.”
– Ulysses, James Joyce
Today’s Time-Slipping Eccles Street Ezrakus:
At Number 7 of Eccles Street #1
The Mater Private Hospital, Dublin Ireland:
Bloom’s blemished domestic diamond.
“But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was selfwilled too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman’s house is his castle…”
– Ulysses, James Joyce
At Number 7 of Eccles Street #2
The bliss of Bloom’s castle, uphill and inland:
Seven-year Ithaca itch on Calypso’s prison island.
Subscribe and stay tuned for more variant Ezrakus.
Same Kang-ing time, same Loki-like channel.