Tuesday, January 25, 2011


You are a chalk
on the ground
marking you
once were

powders the air
you breathe in

you field over
and through the plains
the divine ghost

on the walls

Roxy Katt

Saturday, January 22, 2011


An Obscene, Crapulent, and Absurd poem
(i.e. One poem, a formal unity that is, but with the above
three characteristics. To whit: Obscenity, Crapulence, and Absurdity.)

Virgil Eclogues (37:37: viii, 15-6)

Fuck you, Doctor Zhivago,
Fuck you, Doctor Zhivago,
you, Doctor Zhivago, you
Fuck off you
Fuck off, Doctor Zhivago, you
Fuck Doctor Zhivago, you
Fuck Doctor Doctor
Doctor Fucker you
Fuck off you,
Doctor Zhivago
you ignorant fuck, you
Fuck off you
Doctor Zhivago.

Doctor Zhivago has been sent to Hell.

Fuck Doctor,
Fucker Doctor Fucker
Doctor Fuck
Zhivago Fucker
Doctor Vago
Foctor Zhivocto
Fucker Doctor
Focker Doctor Zhi
vago Fuckeroon er
Fucko Bi-Focofuckulationatorial
istization Doctor Fucko
Fuck the Doctor, the
Doctor Zhivago Fucker the
Fucking Zhivago the Doctor Fuck-
o the Doctor O Fuck

Doctor Fuck Hole!

I had the making of
an honourable man,
but only heroes
were workable then,
so I failed.

(Like a Dutchman. Alas!
In the wilderness, our
voices are
quiet, and meaningless,
glass sunk in the ocean, a
Frenchman crying in the
O lieuh! O blancmontagne! Je
tu de rochera ma petitcoat!)


Crying like a Frenchman
in the woods!

Croaking like a toady
in the forest, like a virgin
in the fields of love
forlorn, like
a hero inthe pages of
a magazine for next Tuesday and
the following Thursday
in a milk bucket on the verge
of all our tomorrows.

round window of all our tomorrows, yes, a
round window of all our tomorrows and tomorrow
and tomorrow,
until the last vestibule
of regarded lime
in the eye of a beggar already buggered by
the historicity of the
effluvia of


(Goffuparapalencia! Go bugger the Queen!
Go bugger the Queen, I say, go
Bugger the Queen!)

Roxy Katt

Tuesday, January 18, 2011


"Although it seems at first a sudden shift of focus, Thoreau's discovery of the flower actually broadens his political reference by underlining the fact that progressive change can emerge from what seems a defeated and hopeless position. Political critique must retain the capacity for hope, or it is futile. Thoreau's lily adds hope, and therefore purpose, to his rage. The perfume of the water lily, the 'confirmation of our hopes,' signals the unending energy of nature and also the ever present possibility of creating a better nation and community." (italics mine)

David M. Robinson Natural Life: Thoreau's Worldly Transcendentalism

Friday, January 14, 2011


I am not interested in a god who never hung on a cross and I am not interested in a god who can do nothing else.

I am not interested in a god who is above our sufferings. God must partake of them or he is not our god.

I am not interested in a god who suffers with us but can never set anything right, who only wrings his hands in heaven, virtuously feeling sorry for everyone.

And a point must come where there is no more torture of the innocent, no more mockery of the good, no spear in the side of the righteous and the holy.

A time must come when the soldier, if he does not repent his allegiance to the Christ-murdering power of Caesar in all his forms, must have his legs violently broken and all his teeth pulled out with brutal pliers.

He must scream in inarticulate, bloody agony as he is nailed to the cross he forced others to make.

If you will not be fixed, you must be broken.

Did you really think that Jesus, meek and mild, would suffer for ever and ever? Did you think that was God's merciful plan?

I am beginning to think that this is what all the allusions in the Bible to hell are about: not an eternity of conscious torture, for that is neither just nor merciful, but an uncompromising declaration that no one will hold God and Her children hostage to darkness forever. That is not negotiable.

Let the fascists who run this world in their suits and uniforms laugh. God shall hold her enemies in derision and break their stony hearts to powder.

Thursday, January 13, 2011


These two pics are from an old comic book called T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents. I never saw this as a kid, but discovered the "Rusty" or "Iron Maiden" character on the net. A nice suit, I think, for all those who find armour sexy. Unfortunately (from my point of view) most of the armour one sees in mass culture that is presented in an erotic context is of the "brass bikini" sort. Not to my own taste. I love a woman totally enclosed in steel!

Sunday, January 9, 2011

A BAWDY POEM (sung to the tune of "Bobby Shaftoe")


Maid 1:

Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea,
Silver buckles on his knee,
He'll come back and marry me,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Bobby Shaftoe fat and fair,
Combing back his yellow hair,
Always shaves his legs with Nair,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Maid 2:

I don't think he's into you,
Sorry girl, he likes the crew,
Don't know what you're going to do,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Frankly, Bobby Shaftoe's gay,
Or at least a little fey,
He won't marry anyway,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Maid 1:

Screw it all that's just my luck,
Fuck me sideways, love a duck,
I'm a stupid hockey puck,
Pretty Bobby Shaftoe.

Roxy Katt

Tuesday, January 4, 2011


I just love that tight-panted riding gear look -- especially on a woman who seems to be saying "I'm so sexy, it hurts."

Ultra-sophisticated as she appears, would she still look that way getting into or out of those ultra-tight jods? Mmmm . . . I don't think so. Yum!

Sunday, January 2, 2011


I sometimes spend a lot of time changing my mind about captions for cartoons. Does anyone have any ideas for this one?