even if all desires things moments be
murdered known photographed,
ourselves yawning will ask ourselves
ou sont les neiges....some
guys talks big
about Lundun Burlin and gay Paree an
some guys claims der never was
nutn like Nooer Leans Shikahgo Sain
Looey Noo York an San Fran dictaphones
wireless subways vacuum
cleaners pianolas funnygraphs skyscrapers and safteyrazors
sall right in its way kiddo
but as fer i gimme de good ole daze....
in dem daze kid Christmas
meant sumpn youse knows wot
I refers ter Satter Nailyuh(comes but once er
year)I'll tell de woild one swell bangup
time wen nobody wore no cloze
an went runnin aroun wid eachudder Hell
Bent fer election makin believe dey was churst born
If you're like, "wut?", don't worry about it. This poem doesn't call for triple readings and depthy analysis. I just think it's really funny the way the poem slowly degrades into this thick Brooklyn accent. Like, look at the first line. Now look at the second to last line. There are actually a lot (a looooooot) of poems that use the accent to different effects.
No comments:
Post a Comment