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It’s time to take a break and return to the wellspring, where I trust that my evenings will be spent pounding more interesting things than a QWERTY keyboard. In the meantime, I am rounding off my semester’s work with this clone of Ezra Pound’s Commission. The content may be trivialised to my usual stuff about Thai bargirls, but I believe that the message remains essentially the same.

‘Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve-racked, go to the enslaved-by-convention…’

                                                                  Ezra Pound

Go, my songs, to the lonely and the unsatisfied,
Go also to the nerve-racked, go to the enslaved-by-convention,
Go to the hideously wedded,
Go to those who try to follow government guidelines
About the recommended alcohol units per day,
Go to those who those whose life has been trashed by greedy wbankers,
Go to the men who don’t like what they see on Match.com,
Go to the men who would never pay for it.

Tell them, my songs, about Thai girls
In whom the alchemy of the mysterious East
Distils the essence of femininity;
Tell them of Kama Sutra sex
Free from ‘Thou shalt not’ (because they are Buddhists).

But also tell them of the illusions and the lies
The scams and the disappointments;
Of Tony, who ended up on a barbeque,
Or Gary, now a beggar on the Sukhumvit Road.
Or Bill, who lost his life savings.
Tell them that Thai girls are pearls
In the dungheaps of Soi Cowboy and Pattaya,
And you have to shovel a lot of shit to find a good one.
Tell them to prepare themselves
By reading Stickmanbangkok.com.

But always emphasise that it’s worth it;
The finest prizes
Are won through the greatest challenges.

Go, my songs, to those who have delicate lust,
Go to those whose delicate desires are thwarted
By control-freak governments in the West
And feminists who want to re-create man
In woman’s image.

Go to those who are thickened with middle age,
And give in to the slippers and the fireside,
The secret stash of porn,
And a bookmark for Megarotic.com.

Go out and defy opinion,
Go against this vegetable bondage of the blood.
Be against all sorts of mortmain*.


*The last three lines (and a fair few others) are Pound’s. ‘Mortmain’ means ‘dead hand’.

 

© Bangkok Byron, 2009. All rights reserved by the author.