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Jack and Jill went out to kill
For things they couldn't alter
Jack fell down and lost his crown
And left a baby daughter
cleveland st. poet
(as a bit of background, some suspect that this references the murders of Jack the Ripper)
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To make a Dadaist poem:
-Take a newspaper.
-Take a pair of scissors.
-Choose an article as long as you are planning to make your poem.
-Cut out the article.
-Then cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them
in a bag.
-Copy conscientiously.
-The poem will be like you.
-And here you are a writer, infinitely original and endowed with a
sensibility that is charming though beyond the understanding of the vulgar.
-Tristan Tzara
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"Grassed on me he did," I
said morosely. ( Note:
Grass is English thief slang for inform.)
I drew closer
and laid my dirty junky fingers on his
sharkskin sleeve.
"And us blood brothers in the same
dirty needle, I can
tell you in confidence he is due for a hot
shot." ( Note:
This is a cap of poison junk sold to addict
for liquida-
tion purposes. Often given to informers. Usually
the hot
shot is strychnine since it tastes and looks like junk. )
"Ever see a hot shot hit,
kid? I saw the Gimp catch
one in Philly. We rigged
his room with a one-way
whorehouse mirror and charged a
sawski to watch it.
He never got the needle out of
his arm. They don't if
the shot is right. That's the way they find
them, dropper
full of clotted blood hanging out
of a blue arm. The
look in his eyes when it hit -- Kid, it was tasty....
naked lunch, burroughs
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