Eat the Cook's Brians poem

Getting Shot on a Beautiful Sunny Day
A Poem By Wolf Larsen


A cook took his brains out of his head and served it as an abstract painting to the restaurant's diners, once they ate the abstract paintings the diners in the restaurant turned into steel mills making love to your sister, this is why you live in Brazil, then the moon split in half and a rush of orgies oozed and fell out of the moon and now the entire world is a mental ward, then your doorbell rang and a nuclear bomb walked through your door and so now you're crawling through the 19th century, or a symphony was creating flying saucers, all the flying saucers are replicas of the Eiffel Tower sitting in class with you because suddenly you're in fifth grade again, a giraffe eats all the streets in Brazil, Brazil is an ocean is a vertical song and so the poem breeds with a mass of wars rushing out of my pen, then she kissed you and that is why the cook served you his brains for dinner
Copyright 2005 by Wolf Larsen
(First published in Offerta Speciale literary magazine, Italy)

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Wolf Larson

I'm going to assume that none of this is serious, but what I got from it was a satire of abstract poets. If that is what you are trying to say with this then I completely agree. Abstractness before meaning deludes the meaning so much that usually, by the end of the poem, there is no meaning at all. I think most abstract poets just have nothing to say and use their medium to conceal the fact that there is nothing really going on in their brain.

Hey Wolf,

Cool poem. I would love to be a fly on the wall in one of your dreams! You sound like a very interesting person with lots to say about everything. I wonder if such a creative person can keep just one train of thought, without turning every moment in to a Salvador Dali work of art!