HOMAGE TO JAMES JOYCE

	E'm gon'na widdle 
	& sing ta ya' 
	& woodle woo wid you, 
	& let it sway till not one crock-eyed, 
	pudding-mouthed Belfast mutation 
	who claims to be a poet – 
	& certainly no foolish lizard skinned grammarian
	who dials my ero-injection with the wrong number, 
	then presses the entry buxom bottom button 
	to maximum throttle, overloading semantic 
	pissing systems & memory chips with 
	hackneyed phrases & electro currents 
	with pléaráca. Hé! 

	The streets of Dublind argh alive! 
	& robust canticlers still thrive! 
	So keep yaer six-pence in yaer pants 
	& re-joyce!

Shu:      Well, this is in the spirit of Joyce – though not the letter.

Juanita:  I'm not sure about that. 
          (sniffing in disdain) Seems like teen-age doggerel to me.


=====================================================================================
from Lit-A-Rupture: A Post Literary Construction by T Newfields
SUMMARY: A mutant poem, image, and conversation celebrating James Joyce (1882-1942).
KEYWORDS: James Joyce, Joycean doggerel, textualized explosion, Irish literature

by T Newfields [Nitta Hirou / Huáng Yuèwǔ] (b. 1955)
Begun: 1993 in Shizuoka, Japan ⨳ Finished: 2016 in Xīn-Táiběi, Taiwan
Creative Commons License: Attribution. {{CC-BY-4.0}} Granted

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