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Archive for April 10th, 2018

The horrowshow Milkbar

also known now as the best mesto

for my droogs and me,

where, “What’s it going to be then, eh”

is the question repeated

by malchicks and devotchkas …

any random nochy with a thirst

for twenty-to-one, or any other

way to filly out the bezoomny

we feel trapped in the old mozg.

 

Bog himself knows the starry lewdies

try everything they can to escape

their grazzy cheepooka. They

have different ways of lying

about the jeezny, my brother.

 

But if you viddy their glazzies

after a few rounds of their

favorite poisons, behind their guffs

and ha ha ha creeches

you’ll hear from their poogly rot

what sounds like a hound and horny

excuse for why they wake up every

morning to ookadeet their domy and drat

for the measly hem-korm in their pockets …

why they rabbit until their plots

fall apart and are left with nothing

but to itty or take in

the last unending spatchka.

 

It’s why we’re showing mercy, my brother,

and a beautiful thing, kleb and krovvy,

when we take these broken vecks

out back to bend ’em at their altar

in the darkness of the alley

and smash them in the litso —

make a mark in the rassoodock,

so it plays like a shoomny sneety,

like a scene we’d see at the sinny.

 

It’s the only way to prod a bratty.

 

* Inspired by a student who invited me to read and discuss A Clockwork Orange with him.

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