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Mitch Sisskind
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Auguries of Innocence William Blake To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour A Robin Red breast in a Cage Puts all Heaven in a Rage A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons Shudders Hell thr' all its regions A dog starvd at his Masters Gate Predicts the ruin of the State A Horse misusd upon the Road Calls to Heaven for Human blood Each outcry of the hunted Hare A fibre from the Brain does tear A Skylark wounded in the wing A Cherubim does cease to sing The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight Does the Rising Sun affright Every Wolfs & Lions howl Raises from Hell a Human Soul The wild deer, wandring here & there Keeps the Human Soul from Care The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife And yet forgives the Butchers knife The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that wont Believe The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbelievers fright He who shall hurt the little Wren Shall never be belovd by Men He who the Ox to wrath has movd Shall never be by Woman lovd The wanton Boy that kills the Fly Shall feel the Spiders enmity He who torments the Chafers Sprite Weaves a Bower in endless Night The Catterpiller on the Leaf Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly For the Last Judgment draweth nigh He who shall train the Horse to War Shall never pass the Polar Bar The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat Feed them & thou wilt grow fat The Gnat that sings his Summers Song Poison gets from Slanders tongue The poison of the Snake & Newt Is the sweat of Envys Foot The poison of the Honey Bee Is the Artists Jealousy The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags A Truth thats told with bad intent Beats all the Lies you can invent It is right it should be so Man was made for Joy & Woe And when this we rightly know Thro the World we safely go Joy & Woe are woven fine A Clothing for the soul divine Under every grief & pine Runs a joy with silken twine The Babe is more than swadling Bands Throughout all these Human Lands Tools were made & Born were hands Every Farmer Understands Every Tear from Every Eye Becomes a Babe in Eternity This is caught by Females bright And returnd to its own delight The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath Writes Revenge in realms of Death The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air Does to Rags the Heavens tear The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun Palsied strikes the Summers Sun The poor Mans Farthing is worth more Than... Continue reading
Posted 5 hours ago at The Best American Poetry
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Sometimes you're tired maybe because you Didn't sleep last night or you drank too much So even if you did sleep it wasn't a real sleep Yet somehow you make it through the day Until around 4 or 5 pm you lie down and sleep Till maybe midnight when you briefly wake up To check the time and then go back to sleep Clear until morning when you at last awaken To the sun shining and the birds chirping And any dog or cat you had in your life Is there jumping up and down with joy and Some even peeing with wild excitement and Because they can all talk now they're saying "We've been waiting for you!" That's how it will be. Continue reading
Posted 4 days ago at The Best American Poetry
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So eat a peach already! What the hell! The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse A persona che mai tornasse al mondo, Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse. Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero, Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo. Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table; Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets, The muttering retreats Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question ... Oh, do not ask, “What is it?” Let us go and make our visit. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, And seeing that it was a soft October night, Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?” Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair — (They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”) My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin, My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin — (They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”) Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse. For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume? And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling... Continue reading
Posted 7 days ago at The Best American Poetry
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Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) Definitely - No Probably - Yes What do You - Think? My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away - And now We roam in Sovreign Woods - And now We hunt the Doe - And every time I speak for Him The Mountains straight reply - And do I smile, such cordial light Opon the Valley glow - It is as a Vesuvian face Had let it’s pleasure through - And when at Night - Our good Day done - I guard My Master’s Head - ’Tis better than the Eider Duck’s Deep Pillow - to have shared - To foe of His - I’m deadly foe - None stir the second time - On whom I lay a Yellow Eye - Or an emphatic Thumb - Though I than He - may longer live He longer must - than I - For I have but the power to kill, Without - the power to die - Continue reading
Posted Jul 11, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
Robert Frost reflects on how seemingly inconsequential decisions can make "all the difference." So good luck! The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Continue reading
Posted Jul 2, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
Hamlet can't make up his mind. What's the hell's the matter with that boy? We also refer to Joe Brainard and the Book of Job. This is serious. (from Hamlet, spoken by Hamlet) To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause—there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th'unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. Continue reading
Posted Jun 24, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
Warning: around a third of the way through a HIATUS suddenly takes place. Don't be alarmed. The HIATUS doesn't go on for long. That's almost the definition of a HIATUS, isn't it? Something that doesn't go on for long. "The Godfather Part III" is not a HIATUS. That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long. Continue reading
Posted Jun 18, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
Here, using the latest technology, David and Mitch invite you to a discussion of great poetry. First up is John Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale" -- and there will be more where that came from, a lot more. So please drop whatever you're doing and click below. Do it now! What have you got to lose? Ode to a Nightingale John Keats (1819) My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness,— That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease. O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To... Continue reading
Posted Jun 8, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
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John Ashbery didn't die He went to Africa and Was bored by an elephant He told me with a laugh Because nothing good Ever happens in Africa Continue reading
Posted Apr 4, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
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When your whole life was going down And you had no money in the bank 'Twas duct tape turned your life around! 'Twas duct tape that was always there, Duct tape to which you owe your thanks, Duct tape, in an unfair world, was fair! You're old, but not bent out of shape When old friends have to walk the plank; Your best friend is good old duct tape! Continue reading
Posted Mar 27, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
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Wristwatches are very sensitive Like the old Timex that I retired When I got a new Timex from Amazon and the old Timex lay Cast off in a drawer for at least Five years without the battery Ever expiring all those years! I have now felt so bad for the Old Timex that I have retired The new Timex at least until The battery in the steadfast Old Timex finally runs down If I should even live that long, Knock on wood, I am 78! Oh the thought of the old Timex Lying in the drawer wondering What it had done to deserve this With its tiny battery-powered tick Ticking away in the total darkness! I have a grave paid for in Chicago But I might decide to be cremated! Continue reading
Posted Mar 15, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
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Weary of grandma's antique Woodstock stories, Well-off Winnetka women wearing whatever; Winsome women, wind whipping their hair, Wielding wicked witticisms with no apology; Women wandering to where restaurants lie Among the pussywillows, women whispering, Weaving wildflowers, warbling whoop-jamboree, Waking echoes across the fields of NSCD where Of late we whisked the footballs around, where In the weeds we went wee-wee, where we wept On the study hall's linoleum at the hormonal Halloween dance where crepe paper dangled -- Wait, wait: with the well-off women of Winnetka The wised-up women of Wilmette likewise ariseth! Continue reading
Posted Feb 27, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
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Sonnet LYII Man, you're being way too hard on yourself; Don't bang a hammer on your own head. If you want to make a good statue of an elf, Use a big piece of wood or a rock instead; People's weak spots are always easy to find, Especially your own, which is why they're weak; So find something else to occupy your mind Like how an eagle only carries food in its beak; Like how if we compare a bald eagle to an elf, How the bald eagle flies like a silver streak, While meanwhile the elf is too hard on itself And at best is considered something of a freak Luckily I came along to point this out As when rain falls after a long drought. Continue reading
Posted Feb 16, 2024 at The Best American Poetry
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Barrelling down Bumblebee Mountain We are! All of us hauling ass down Bumblebee Mountain but most of us Don't even know it barreling down Bumblebee Mountain in the $19.95 U-Haul towing a 1980 Buick Skylark! Do we even realize it? Do we have The barest inkling of what's going on? Racing down Bumblebee Mountain At tremendous velocity but somehow Oblivious of it so we imagine ourselves Someplace else until we inevitably get To the bottom of Bumblebee Mountain And then we know! O yes then we know! Continue reading
Posted Nov 24, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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When you can speak pig latin You should speak pig latin. Go and find other speakers Of pig latin and speak pig latin With them. When? Now, today. Or maybe you can't speak Pig latin and are indifferent To it, not for it or against it Which is fine, you don't care About pig latin. Fine, fine. Another type of person wants To speak pig latin but can't do it. You don't know how so you must Learn to speak pig latin, learn, learn Or you are going to be unhappy. Continue reading
Posted Oct 5, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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Though not a Jew himself Powys somehow Intuited Kabbalistic teachings on humiliation Through his sexual failures and constipation As we learn in his Autobiography where he also Spares us the rodomontadian strutting whereby Lesser writers dramatize their accomplishments In the bathroom or bedroom. Powys hated science Especially vivisection of animals which for him Was all of science in a nutshell nor did he use Typewriters, telephones or linen napkins. Wait! Am I painting him as some quirkily funny SNL-host Faux-awkward here-to-amuse-you Steve Martin type? No! Who is another quirkily funny SNL type? Tina Fey? No, no! Read Wolf Solent, you pogues! Read Porius! Continue reading
Posted Sep 29, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
How many demons and imps are in the world? Ha ha! I laugh when I'm asked that question; Demons and imps are numberless and timeless. Angels flit in and out of existence like quarks And anti-quarks but demons and imps exist Forever even if their wicked work may change. For example sexual intercourse near outdoor toilets Was forbidden for centuries and imps kept watch But today those same imps spy on men (women too), Lawyers, doctors, Wall Street types, famous athletes, Anyone who watches pornography on their computers Or phones and that comprises most of the population. What about Lilith the terrifying queen of the demons? Now you're talking. Imps can cause techno-related Embarrassments but Lilith can transform herself into The Serpent from the Book of Genesis, the Golden Calf From Exodus, or even into a shyly blushing bride on Her wedding night who very suddenly stops blushing. Remember: Lilith bolted from Gan Eden for wanting To be "on top." Feh, feh. You know what else? After the ruin of the Second Temple when God For a time was estranged from his female aspect Lilith and God became intimate with one another. That really happened -- feh! -- but it's a secret. Continue reading
Posted Aug 30, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
We're in a luxurious hotel suite, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and I -- but I'm invisible and Bill Gates does most of the talking as He and Steve Jobs sip brandy from Crystal snifters and I love the word snifter But let's put that aside because Bill Gates Suddenly proposes merging Microsoft And Apple to create a new company Called SoftApple and when Steve Jobs Seems skeptical Bill Gates references The Peloponnesian War and explains How the course of world history would Have changed if Athens and Sparta Had simply agreed to bury the hatchet So when Bill Gates says bury the hatchet Then Steve Jobs little by little begins Envisioning all the SoftApple possibilities, Steve Jobs slowly starts to come around, He starts to wake up and smell the coffee But at the instant that the old coffee cliché Makes its appearance, why, I'm the one Who wakes up. You see, it was all a dream! Continue reading
Posted Aug 18, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
Lou Holtz who was a great football coach Said that the most important relationship In your life is with God because God has All the power over everything so why Keep batting your head against the wall By disobeying God which will never work? Why keep eating your heart out uselessly? John Milton makes much the same point In Paradise Lost where the Devil actually Knows full well that God has all the power But he still pig-headedly brings about an Epic mess of everything with his puerile Attention-getting behavior caused by A pathetic need for self-aggrandizement. However there is a scene in Paradise Lost Where the Devil has some doubts about Whether to make the mess and although He does finally decide to make it anyway We can recall how Lou Holtz says that The second most important relationship In your life (after God) is with your spouse. If the Devil had a spouse she could have Talked him out of his infamous scheme; I think a whore-with-a heart-of gold such as Donna Reed in From Here to Eternity who Won an Academy Award in 1953 could have Swayed the Devil since that kind of woman Is impossible to resist! Yes, even for the Devil! Continue reading
Posted Aug 15, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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'I'd rather get my ass whipped with a plank 'Than go to a dinner party.' For these words We have Billy Bob Thornton to thank As for morning's songs we thank the birds. Now listen here and you listen good Don't you dare go around using that Expression it's not my first rodeo! I hate that expression and it's been Cropping up like the kudzu plant so If you want to use an expression You'd best say the jury is still out or That's a horse of a different color or Katie bar the door like if the dentist Wants to take your teeth out you say Katie bar the door or say Jesus Christ Or Christ Jesus which is six of one or Half a dozen of the other and bull riders Didn't used to wear football helmets. Continue reading
Posted Jul 28, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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Waiting is one of Judaism's great themes As when Abraham waited to be the father Of a great nation which God promised him Or he also waited to be the father of a child Both of which finally happened but only when He was an old man with a long white beard. Or what about how the Jews waited for Moses to come down from Mount Sinai? You might think we're also just waiting for Moshiach but it's not like John Milton said You also serve when you only stand and wait. You should expedite Moshiach whether it's by Philanthropy like a humongous concert hall or Cancer hospital or by not stepping on an ant. Continue reading
Posted Jul 24, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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The Hamburger Lounge? Yeats loved it there. Eliot, Crane, Whitman, Amy and Robert Lowell, When they wanted hamburgers, they knew where. The Golden Ox on Clybourn used to prepare A fine zwiebelfleisch, served with a roll; But the Hamburger Lounge? Yeats loved it there. He rarely attended the Golden Ox, nor repaired To the old Gripe 'n' Groan. Edna Milay, Heinrich Böll When they wanted hamburgers, they knew where. Kit Smart, Hilda Doolittle, Pound, John Clare, Their passion for hamburgers was beyond control; And the Hamburger Lounge? Yeats loved it there. Though I am unworthy, this one aspect I share WIth the past’s great metrists, in my heart and soul: When they wanted hamburgers, they knew where. To reveal, to disclose a hamburger past all compare Was their supreme aspiration, their deepest-held goal And when they wanted hamburgers, they knew where; The Hamburger Lounge? Yeats loved it there. Continue reading
Posted Jul 7, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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Under the aegis of Joey Aiuppa (Doves Aiuppa, Joey The Doves Aiuppa, Mourning Doves Aiuppa) No one could be killed (whacked) in Elmwood Park So you had to get a scumbag (mope, numb-nuts) Across Harlem Avenue in order to whack him. You couldn't even bring a gun to Elmwood Park During the Aiuppa years. What about Melrose Park? Things were kind of more lenient in Melrose Park Although it was the birthplace of Mourning Doves, And River Forest? That was like the Wild West Where Accardo, Spilatro, and Moony Giancana Had residences and where Moony (Momo) took A couple of .22s to the coconut after which Doves And Tony Accardo (Joe) moved to Palm Springs. Now here's something you might find interesting. While many gangsters were moving to the suburbs One man, Joey Lombardo (Lomby, Lumpy, the Clown) Stayed on Ohio Street in Chicago with his wife Marion. Even after Lumpy and Marion got divorced Lomby Just moved downstairs into the basement. Why? Perhaps there were some financial machinations Going on but probably Lumpy just felt attached To the Grand Avenue and Western Avenue environs Where he grew up. Of course he disliked being called The Clown which the various news media persisted In calling him whenever his name came up just like Tony Spilotro disliked being called the Ant or how Tony Accardo always insisted on being called Joe. A mysterious and even a spectral presence among The gangsters was Murray the Camel, also called Curly or Murray the Hump. Extremely intelligent, Always well-dressed, Murray the Camel generally Eschewed violence in favor of bribery or blackmail To achieve the Outfit's ends, and he was known as A philanthropist in Norman Oklahoma where he met Clemi, his first wife. They divorced but stayed friends While at his home in Chicago he built a playhouse For his daughter in the backyard and he helped Many gangsters get back on their feet when They got out of jail. When he took Sidney Korshak Under his wing as the Outfit's fixer in Hollywood The Hump said, "Sid, don't forget who you work for." Continue reading
Posted Jun 29, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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Casino is the best Mafia film although some might say that Casino could not exist without the preceding Goodfellas so Casino is sort of like Goodfellas 2. Be that as it may characters in Casino derive from guys in the so-called Outfit -- the Chicago Mafia -- who ran Las Vegas. A lot of us poetry readers, while we are familiar with Joe Pesce and Robert De Niro in Casino, might not know about their real life counterparts so a few of them can be seen below: Joey Aiuppa, on the right, was the CEO of the Outfit at the time in which Casino takes place although the character upon which he is based is supposed to be from Kansas City in the film and only appears in one or two scenes. I don't know who the guy on the left is. Robert De Niro plays Lefty Rosenthal in Casino and Sharon Stone plays his wife. This photo shows the real Lefty Rosenthal on the right along with his wife so you can see how incredibly hot she was just like Sharon Stone in the movie. The other guy is Michael Spilotro. He was the brother of Anthony Spilotro, who was played by Joe Pesce in the film. I don't know who the woman on the left is. Maybe Michael's wife? Here's a rare and unusual picture of Anthony Spilotro -- Joe Pesce's character -- playing ping-pong. Anthony Spilotro looks kind of pudgy and baby-faced in the picture but he was actually violent and hot-headed like Pesce portrayed him. Maybe it's not explicit in the movie but in real life Anthony Spilotro had sexual intercourse with Left Rosenthal's hot wife which made waves so Joey Aiuppa okayed the execution of Anthony Spilotro. The real life hit of Anthony Spilotro happened somewhat like in the movie except Anthony's brother Michael was also whacked at the same time and they were not whacked in a cornfield but were subsequently transported to a cornfield and buried there. Why was Michael also whacked? Who cares. Furthermore, the bodies of Michael and Anthony were soon discovered by a farmer whereas if they had been buried a scant few yards away it would have been on remote public land where they probably would never have been found and there would have been no heat brought down. So the guy who chose the cornfield burial site got whacked. Continue reading
Posted Jun 23, 2023 at The Best American Poetry
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1. I asked Jesus for a moment of his time, We got together at the bottom of a mine And when I asked Jesus for twenty bucks He said ducks quack and chickens cluck But Big Daddy Lipscomb feared no man So be who you are to the best that you can, Like Big Daddy Lipscomb was always mean, He called me Jesus and I called him Gene When we drove together on unlit streets To a boom-a-lay boom-a-lay old time beat, Big Daddy Lipscomb and little old me Picking up chicks just being wild and free, Big Daddy Lipscomb was always mean, He called me Jesus and I called him Gene. 2. There goes Big Daddy tooling 'round the bend; He used to play for Baltimore, I knew him when Him and Artie Donovan drank before the games There in the locker room without any shame About it either, and Big Daddy sure loved his car So when they played in NYC he drove way too far Off of what used to be called the scenic route, Picking up girls in Delaware and other ones to boot In Philadelphia simply by saying that his name was Big Daddy Lipscomb and he nearly missed the game But he distinguished himself in a goal line stand And when last seconds ticked away he said hey man To Artie Donovan, you want to shoot horse with me? Artie said you go ahead, I know how the end will be. 3. Big Daddy didn't play no college ball, The Marine Corps was pretty much all The experience he had on defensive line Till he joined the Rams but then he signed With the Colts and took his car for a whirl All by himself except for picking up girls In towns where girls just want to get out And go to New York City or how about Memphis or Chicago, or anywhere is fine; Nights by the motel pool drinking wine Big Daddy wonders if maybe he'll quit Football before the start of all that shit, Two a day practices out in the sun Is plain old work but girls are fun. Continue reading
Posted May 26, 2023 at The Best American Poetry