DADDY

Otto Plath

DADDY
_____________________

“Daddy, I have had to kill you
You died before I had time”
—Sylvia Plath, “Daddy”
_______________

Daddy

Light of my life—
I had to kill you Daddy
Bright as a Nazi
Lampshade, sweetie

I pealed off your—
Little moustache
Gave you a new
Pair of false teeth

Viola! You’re back—
Outta the Bunker
Ready to Annihilate
Oh Big Bad Daddy!!!

Lady Lazarus

Some say it’s—
A terrible curse
This gift of being
Born again!!!

I’ve been back—
So many times that
It’s Old Hat, honey
What else is new?

Pealed off my face—
Picked off the worms
Poetry is a Fine Lady
Stood up again!!!

Cabaret Tears

They shove me in—
They pull me out
Strip Tease cannibals
Can’t get enough

Step right up, folks—
You peanut-crunching
Crowd of dumb Rubes
Cry your cabaret tears

It’s Come-Back time—
On Sunset Boulevard
Norma Desmond does
Her Staircase Routine!!!

The Applicant

First, my dear—
Are you our sort of
Poet, gimpy with a
Little Swish, honey?

Are you outta your—
Closet, sweetheart
Can you do Cabaret
Not shed those Tears?

Can you be Kitschy—
Can you be Kool, baby
Are you really into
Mexican schlock pearls?
________________

Do you like them—
Dumb and horny
With a glass eye
And a rubber dick?

Do you like stitches—
Something missing or
A crotch with a brace
Maybe a lovely limp?

Gin in teacups—
Marmalade meat
Cork-lined Parisian
Bedroom scenes?
_________________

Are you waterproof—
Shatterproof, are you
Full of sorrow and
The usual guilt?

Are you married—
Did you kill her
Did you bury her
In the backyard?

What about the—
Ugly little rug-rats
Are you the perfect
Dead beat Daddy?
_____________

Are you freaky—
Archives of Ripley’s
Believe It Or Not
Way in the back?

Come on, sweetie—
Well, well what do
You think of that?
She talks, talks, talks!

Bad Boy Women

It’s easy enough, girl—
To stay put and get old
To avoid the theatrical
All afraid of Bad Boyz

But I get a charge—
Outta Miracle Whip Guyz
Icy and Smooth, baby
At the Bad Boy Café

A bit of Boyfriend—
A dab of Big Daddy
Help me Herr Doktor
Gimme your Panzer



Come Back Girl

After the football game—
Down in the locker room
With the football team
The marble-tiled shower

Nun-heated, my pussy—
Blind to the cruel world
Lover of naked Nike &
Bow-legged Apollo

Sprained thighs and—
Sighs of injured groins
Get my attention fast
Mum as a queer muse

Skinhead Amusements

I need them like—
I need a Black Eye
Black & blue Bad Boyz
They love to hurt

He’s my Bad Boy—
My Pretty Nazi Baby
He goosesteps me
Down dark alleys

I melt with a shrug—
My flesh & bones go
Up the Smokestack
My ass is ash, girl

Tiptoe Thru the Tulips

First of all I hate Tulips—
They’re much too red and
They remind me of wounds
You know, cut-off tongues

Tulips don’t turn me on—
The vivid ones too needy
They’re so upsetting with
Their red frenzied smiles

Tulips at the cabaret—
Such dangerous animals
Scarlet Pimpernels in drag
Ruby lips & little creeps
_______________

Tulips get hysterical—
I try to tiptoe past them
But they’re stupid like me
They just scream & pee

What else can I do—
Soothe them gently with
A little Smile until I get
Away and then just Smirk?

They’re like little Nuns—
So slovenly and innocent
If they only knew what
I know about bad boyz

Secrets

Exposé!!! Secrets!!!—
Waiting for me there
National Enquirer tabloids
Only too ready TO TELL

Secrets all around me—
Faint, undercover Smarm
Shouldn’t I know it now
The Filthy Dirty TRUTH?

Famous Movie Stars—
Illegitimate Baby Boyz!
Slutty little Baby Girlz!
All the Overdose Queens!

The Jailors

Night sweats for dinner—
Greasy badboyz for desert
Names on the headstones
Who rattles the Keys?

The Jailors only smile—
They change your Sheets
Drag you outta bed and
Douche the Movement

Gimme a little Gimlet—
Help me to the Boyz Room
Pretending to be helpful
But surely that’s not enough
______________

The Tricky Dicks—
My ribs show I’m skinny
All because no safe sex
Cute Rasputin up my Ass

So much for gay lib—
I dreamed of something else
Being a Dred Scott Nègres
Wasn’t part of the Big Plan

I wasn’t ready for—
Being hung, starved, burnt
At the stake all over again
By the str8t Witch Burners
______________

So much for Subversive—
Queens of Amnesia gone
Bad, shadows of disco
Do, do, do me again

Slice and Dice

What a sick Thrill—
My throat instead of yours
Slice it and dice it, girl
Open me up like a Hinge

Pale dead white lips—
A nice red plushy blush
Straight from the heart
Slice & dice pink fizz

Homo homunculus—
Saboteur Kamikaze Kum
Ku Klux Klan Killer Queens
Nights of Dark Satire



The Dregs

I know the Dregs—
I know the great Tap Root
I don’t fight it, baby
I’ve been there

It’s not the Sea—
Deep inside a Seashell
It’s the Voice of Nothing
Better use a Rubber

Ask the Little Dwarf—
Inside your pillowcase
Why the Big Itch to know
It’s only Arsenic Love

Over the Rainbow

Over the Rainbow—
Scorched to the bare Earth
The Atrocity of Sunsets
The Burnt-Out Eyeballs

Just ask Marlene—
Weimar is back again
That’s how Nazis work
They never give up

It sleeps inside us—
The Dark Thing called
Miserable Male Malignity
Pale irretrievable love

Night Dances

A Snake in the Grass—
Clouds pass overhead
I look into your face
Your snaky sweet hiss

So Murderous in—
Your Strangle of Pubes
Others will lose themselves
In your hellish Male Beauty

Your Killer Flesh—
Cold stare of Jaguar eyes
Embellishing your lies
And shiny Teeth

The Detective

What was I doing—
When I blew into town
Waiting at the window
For your BMW motorcycle?

Eyes of a killer hustler—
Moving Sluglike sideways
Sidelong slippery skanky
Into my bored bedroom?

Your lethal weapon Smile—
Your bored hoodlum stare
Knowing your Convulsions
Electrocuted my Style

The Boner

Even when you showed—
Me your Jaguar incisors
I didn’t think you were
Going to Eat Me Alive

I know you were bad—
Egotistical and in love
With yourself but then
I wanted to be you too

Something wild and—
Insatiably Male like you
Were when you Came
Shooting your Brains out



The Autopsy

I became your Body—
My Punishment was to
Wrinkle up like your
Foreskin and just die

Your Biceps were next—
As hard as two stones
Your pair of cruel Hips
You made become them

Here I am now—
Embalmed in a Bell Jar
A Scarecrow taking notes

Ariel-esque

Douche in darkness—
Slimy black and blue
Pour me some more, baby

Ungodly loins—
Let me squeeze them
So tight again

Pivot of Penis—
Furrow of Pubes
Spit in my Eye

Male Godiva—
Godzilla mon amour
Cheesy male love

Gimme semen—
Sequins & lots of
Glitter, baby

S/M melts—
In your mouth
Not your hands

Boss Cupid

Nothing’s worse than—
Dull vulgar Angels
Bossy ethereal Thugs
Armed with Wings

What Poet ever—
Flourished in such a
Padded Cell at this
With males as Godfolk?

Skanky, scurrilous—
Flat bellies, big biceps
Rude manly manners
Filthy Fallen Angels

Vatican Boyfriends

Viciousness in the Vatican—
Bernini columns writhing
Troubled Baroque Bishops
A Pope with a Migraine

Herr Hitler said—
“We’re going to get rid of
The Church,” a Cardinal
Simply just smiled

“We’ve been trying—
To do in the Church simply
For centuries, my dear,
And yet still it stands.”

Michelangelo paints fat—
Little cherubs on the ceiling
Sex Pistols of Sistine Chapel
Gazing down at the Queens

Divorce Lit

I’m sick of the smell—
Of baby crap & dirty diapers
I’m doped up on sleeping pills
I’m in a smog in the kitchen

My no-good Husband—
He’s left me & shacked up
With another woman who’s
Ditched her own husband

He slams the door—
Limps down the cobbled hill
Takes a trolley to the bar
Gets drunk away from me



Sad Hag Blues

Spitting up diamonds—
Sparkling jewels & chartreuse
Emeralds, faggy pearls from
Deep sea moody oysters

Handfuls of hard Sapphires—
Mulatto dark sullen Rubies
Just like Sirk’s soap opera
“Imitation of Life” sob-story

Here I am silent, alone—
Up to my neck in the Stink
While he’s having fun with
Another man’s woman

Navel cords hang outta me—
My belly full of sad regrets
Adultery in the cupboards
Much too much gone mileage

Miss Yeats

Finally Yeats shows up—
A little too late though
To help me out much
Getting off the Meat Hook

A poet’s life intriguing?—
Widen your horizons, Sylvia?
Those aren’t little Motes
They’re dead Corpuscles

”What’s that Bad Smell?”—
Yeats says in the kitchen
Stolen moments, fornication
Cuckoo in the closets

Miss Yeats simply smiles—
“You’ll remember back when
You once lived here on Fitzroy
It won’t be fatal, sweetheart.”

The Yorkshire Ripper

A squeal of brakes—
Assia Wevill gets sick
Of his two-timing ways
Tells him to “Fuck off!”

Writing and regretting—
He always came back to
Sylvia pleading passionately
For a quickie second chance

Finally Sylvia got sick too—
Nobody wanted a Loser like
Ted to be the Poet Laureate
Even Faber & Faber frowned

That’s how the Legend—
Started and continued from
Sylvia to the grave with the
Yorkshire Ripper de rigueur