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If you only read the books
that everyone else is reading,
you can only think what
everyone else is thinking.
9 772165 660009
poetry for the world as it really isn't
October 31, 2013
Volume 2, Issue 2
If you think education is expensive, try ignorance.
– Derek Bok
Editor in Chief
O Captain My Captain
Commander of Design
an On Impression publication
We delicately extract each specimen from the imagination of the respective author
without damaging his/her precommissural fornix nor his/her legal ownership of the
piece. Please refrain from circumventing international copyright laws, but there are
no intergalactic regulations in place yet (that we know of). To purchase a copy (or
four), use the order form in back or visit our port on the high-seas of the internet:
http://parody.onimpression.com. You are most certainly welcome to mail us your
submissions, subscriptions, and spare foreign bank notes:
Parody Poetry Journal, P.O. Box 404, East Rochester, NY 14445
An Attempt to be Environmentally
Responsible at a Thruway Rest Stop ____
Roy Hartwell Bent
An Epitaph!_____________________ 17
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Fried Chicken!4
Gorgon Hair Care!
Bug on my Shoulder!_______________ 18
Milton the Busboy Asks for Friday Off!__ 7
Cloned Cooks Conquer Canada!_______ 20
The Shark Prepares a Menu!
To Her Coy Tootsie!________________10
Lee Warner Brooks
This Is Just To Say!_______________ 12
The Red Belt Buckle!
This Be the Worst!
i carry your gum with me(i carry it on!
Students who won't learn!___________ 16
Alan Ira Gordon
Finding Golf Clubs on a Rainy Evening!22
Hamlet's Manscaping Dilemma!
For Aspiring Poets!
Footnote to File!__________________ 29
Works Parodied_______________ 34
You're probably thinking that this little poetry journal looks pretty
innocent, right? Cute little sea creatures decorate the cover with their
morning subway commute. The recurring topic of sweet treats sets
your saliva glands flowing and leaves you with a hankering for a trip
to the candy shop. All in all, it's just a few sheets of paper with words
printed here and there. Printed words are fairly innocuous, right?
But you may begin to notice that these pages invoke names like
Stevens, Larkin, and Ginsberg. Maybe you were at a rock concert
where they chanted lines from Howl. Perhaps bubbling into your
consciousness are memories from a poetry slam with forgettable
words but mesmerizing flow and the audience whistled and snapped
encouragement the way a southern Baptist shouts "Amen!" midservice. It could be that youtube is the closest you've come to seeing
such shenanigans. Moments like these reveal the force behind words.
Sticks and stones, they say... Beware of these physical things that
people might fling at your head. Words? meh.
When words are brandished orally, they strike with much more
potency. "Watch out for those damn words," says Chuck Palahniuk,
who has first-hand experience with making audience members pass
out at live readings. Science is yet to find evidence of sorcerers or
wizards, but linguists come close.
Celebrate with us the spoken origins of verse and storytelling.
Channel the spirits of poets ancient, not-so-unrecently deceased, and
otherwise bereft of life. Read a few of these pieces out loud—stand
up at a live reading or do it secretly in your bedroom while nobody
else is around but the ghosts. Evolution and/or celestial providence
has bestowed us humans with our verbal prowess for a reason.
If the content of these pages leaves you unenthused, if no poet
elsewhere has written an incantation that strikes a fire in your belly,
find the power of your own words.
Despite her '80s leotard, did not enjoy teaching
old-school Jane Fonda cardio classes. She kicked
and thrusted so many times she started to believe
she was a Rockette. She decided to try yoga,
but quickly found she was not designed to bend
that way, plus the overheated rooms almost melted
her face. She switched to Zumba, which was fun,
but her hips swiveled funny and made the rest
of the students laugh. That's when she met an outof-stock Ken who convinced her to go lifting with him.
That's where she fell
in love. The resonating clank of weights loading
bars was her harbinger. She lunged, squatted,
curled and deadlifted till it hurt to move. She forgot
about doing her makeup, permanently ponied her hair,
and lost three cup sizes in her quest for muscle gain.
Mattel threatened to sue her (she was in breach
of her contract's vanity clause). She told them they could
kiss her newly-raised ass, and added five more
reps to her set.
An Attempt to be Environmentally Responsible
at a Thruway Rest Stop
In the men's room
past exit forty-three
at urinal's bottom
I'm happy to see
a waterless cartridge
waiting for me.
No need to drain
some sweet rain
from a lake, flow
a gallon fifty miles or so
just to gush away some yellow.
after hand washing
the real quandary:
is hot air or hand towel
A towel is a cut tree
hauled to a factory
macerated to slurry
a paper-milled roll,
a square cut and fold
Stored a while some place,
a rest-room man to place
it in a stainless holder for me
to use for three—seconds
then tossing it in
a stainless can
removal by that minder man
in a plastic bag,
to toss in a tip
and truck to the dump
to sit for ever.
elbow that silver button
force some nuclear steam
through a turbine, stream
kilowatts some wired distance
reddening a coil's resistance
spinning the blower
without seeing the trace
of radioactive waste
that'll sit for ever
So what'd I do?
Well, I took so long
thinking it through
my hands drip-dried.
So I walked out,
not quite satisfied.
Roy Hartwell Bent
Thirteen Ways of Looking at Fried Chicken
with apologies to Wallace Stevens
Among twenty fast food joints
The only place where dinner once flew
Was the chicken shack.
I was of three minds,
Like a menu
On which there are three combo meals.
The bird sizzled in the July winds.
It was a high point on the map of Kentucky.
A thigh and a breast
A thigh and a breast and a wing
I do not know which to prefer,
The comfort of the classic recipe
Or the mystery of a new special sauce,
The chicken about to cross the road
Or just after.
Tears flowed down the window
Of the Kenny Rogers Roasters.
The neon chicken on the sign
flickered, on and off.
Limned in shadow
An unhatched riddle.
O business men of Crisco,
Why do you dream of boneless birds?