Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Sat May 28, 2016 9:20 pm
Beastly Man with Savoie Faire
by Charles Carreon
May 28, 2016
If I was a yogi
I would make ice cream
And I would want to call it Mukti Fructi
I'd advertise it on Twitter
As neither light nor bitter
A real change of pace
A rest from the old rat race
Mukti Fructi
Make it all day long
Mukti Fructi
That's what I call this song ...
It's made from the sweetest cream
Milk from the sweetest cows
I throw rock salt in ice
I blend it real nice
I talk to the bees and the trees
I add some of their honeys
Mukti Fructi
It just sort of rolls along
Mukti Fructi
But it's not like nothing goes wrong
So pay close attention to what you're doing
Keep the crank on the paddle screwin'
Keep it cool as paradise
That's the way to make it come out right
Mukti Fructi
Everyone taste a treat
Mukti Fructi
It really beats the heat ...
by Charles Carreon
May 28, 2016
If I was a yogi
I would make ice cream
And I would want to call it Mukti Fructi
I'd advertise it on Twitter
As neither light nor bitter
A real change of pace
A rest from the old rat race
Mukti Fructi
Make it all day long
Mukti Fructi
That's what I call this song ...
It's made from the sweetest cream
Milk from the sweetest cows
I throw rock salt in ice
I blend it real nice
I talk to the bees and the trees
I add some of their honeys
Mukti Fructi
It just sort of rolls along
Mukti Fructi
But it's not like nothing goes wrong
So pay close attention to what you're doing
Keep the crank on the paddle screwin'
Keep it cool as paradise
That's the way to make it come out right
Mukti Fructi
Everyone taste a treat
Mukti Fructi
It really beats the heat ...
The Emperor of Ice-Cream
Wallace Stevens, 1879 - 1955
Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month’s newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.