DREAM OF THE BEAT HOTEL by Dennis Doph

because why? 22

I dreamed I was a flexibly receiving buttboy
at the legendary Beat Hotel Run-down
Shitsmeared edifice at 9 Rue Git-le-Coeur
Why was I wasting my time
Jerking my happy boy-cock's life away
There in endlessly rainy Everett Wash.
While I could have been servicing
Bill Burroughs Gregory Corso Brion Gysin
Most of all bodacious Harold Norse
There on the dirty cumstained floors
of the Beat Hotel

I could have been their little teenage queen
Sucking cock among greats and near-greats
Servicing them
while they cut up page after page
of overworked verbs and adjectives

I could have pushed that Indochinese lady
out the window
Laughed as I heard her scream and fall
I could have donned her Cochinchinese silk pants
Descended the stairs to the applause of the Hearties
I would have sucked Bill Burroughs' patrician
thin cock
As he contemplated my perfect butt cleavage
Sloping into the Indochinese lady's silk pants

I would have been the one who made
prophetic utterances
I would have moaned as I allowed them
one by one
To defile my virgin baby butt
I would have let Corso hump his fat Guinea cock
into my mouth
Would have sucked him dry
begged for more
Just to assure my rightful place
in the pantheon of Beat Culture

I would have been Numero Uno of the buttfucked boys
who came like bombs
Would have waited trembling in my fusty room
While the sexgiant Harold Norse brought
His long muscled legs Legs portrayed
Over and over by Cocteau
Long legs Long strong dick into my room
Had his way with me Then jerked off on me
for good measure

But no
I had to be a good boy Go on beating my
fucking brains out
To make Phi Beta Kappa at the U of W
Instead of letting my mouth and butt be used
over and over
By the greats and near-greats of Beat Literature

So what did I achieve doing
the opposite of what I should have done
Nothing
Except to whet my appetite for the devastating
sexobject I should have been
Now I'm trying to make up for it
Rattling away on this fucking PC
While in San Francisco
Ferlinghetti the sole survivor is droning away
Last rites for legendarily well hung Harold Norse
Who should have fucked me
while I was still fuckable

BOYS OF TRISTAN DA CUNHA / D.Doph

Oh
The loneliness of the boys of Tristan da Cunha
Legendary rocky island Lost lost lost lost
In the windy depths of the far South Atlantic
Tributary to St Helena where Napoleon
Jerked off his last vain jerkoff after the British nailed him
that one last time
All their mail comes pulsing slowly through St Helena
The British Colonial Office says it must be so
So It is so
Through St Helena come the jerkoff magazines
Testimonials
To Tom Cruise lookalikes Perfect males
Perfect bodies Swollen genitals
Boys of Tristan da Cunha watch and wait
Wait and watch till the next bedizened paperback
jerkoff mag
Comes through slow mail from St Helena
Already reeking of the lust of the postman
at St Helena So it goes
Out there in the windy icy South Atlantic
Boys of Tristan da Cunha jerking off
over some American jerkoff rhapsody
Slapped together with library paste and piss
By some pornographer in North Hollywood

FRITJOV NANSEN LAND by Dennis Doph

beyond beyond . 20

I made my frigid way to Fritjov Nansen Land
'way up above the frozen Arctic Circle
My lips like two blown roses in the icy Barents Sea
My nose like a frieze of pink and purple
I'd been marking time in downtown Hammerfest
Trying to avoid the men I'd already met there
Of all Norwegians I'd already had the best
So I left Hammerfest
leaving the rest to fret there
Thought for just a moment
I might bide awhile
Among the natives of far Spitzbergen
But I had heard their men were so damn whacked and wild
That I might never get a single word in
So I stayed on the packet boat from Hammerfest
Cruising across the vast Norwegian Sea
My cause may have been bleak but it was blest
Since I still resemble what I pretend to be.

We beached on the isle named for old Queen Alexandra
The grinding sound of ice shearing off our runnels
Wondered how I might disarm men in a place so frozen
Or if the transaction might take place
with slings and funnels
They still had a likeness of old King Franz Josef
Looking so proud and strong and handsome
Never knowing he'd been ill replaced
By that severe explorer Fritjov Nansen
The sturdies of this land would fain succumb
Despite my seductive actions and entreaties
They all sat watching, mute, perplexed, and dumb
Some femme-seducer opus of Warren Beatty's.

So I cranked up my portable record-spinner
Put out by some forgotten piece of work named Philco
Spun my old Billie Holiday seduction songs
...before I could cry, "Roger!"
or even, "Wilco!"
Sullen swain lined up outside my door
Knowing that I could make what they might pay worth
The whole transaction; for when they saw my rank red hair
They knew I was some strange kin to Rita Hayworth

So I hustled my buns there in Alexandra Land
Doing what I had done before (and similar)
Waiting to catch the next fast packet boat
To new diggings in Novaya Zemlya.
As for the studs there in Fritjov Nansen Land
They all knew I was no big deal
They zipped up the many zippers to their many layers
And prepared to take their next accouchement with a seal.

But as I set up shop in Zemlya Novaya
Those steaming, snorting Russians made me tremble
I may be high but I couldn't get much dryer
Though what I pretend to be I still resemble.

LADIES OF MONTECITO by Dennis Doph

because why. 19

Here's to the ladies of Montecito
So perfectly lacquered and curled
They're determined to freak
For a day and a week
For any bump to their gossamer world


Trolling out of the hills in their Beemers
Or at least in their Cad CVS-es
They throw each other roses
'bout the jobs on their noses
While they shimmy right out of their dresses

So they run to the proverbial chop shops
While they snicker and sneer at their fate
And they pucker up their chompers
While exchanging silk rompers
While their husbands cruise boys up on State

Still the crow's-feet creep onto their faces
And their worries are varied and many
Though their scruples are free
They'd be happy to be
Some insufferable bitch like Liz Cheney

Then they cruise down to Carpenteria
Though their Botox may have given them a shiner
And the most beldame of dames
Can post a plethora of names
For a gloriously reconstructed vagina.