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THE MONKEY SHITS IN ITS HAND Jorn C.A. Monteiro

© Copyright 2007


ODE TO ASS Cycling home from work. Awy from filing-cbinets nd copymchines. It’s rush-hour on the bikepth. I’m behind  blck lycr-cld ss. It ripples slightly. Tiny blond hirs leding to The Crck reflect the sunlight. I’m mesmerised by it. I hve  penis nd men love sses. It’s  primordil thing. I’m behind The Ass for bout fifteen minutes. It goes where I go, only 2 metres in front of me. I’m curious bout the front. It’s disppointing. It lmost lwys is. A strnge shped mouth. Thin lips, but the middle of the upper-lip is ft. I’m in it for The Ass nywy. At Arthurton Rd. I turn right. The Ass goes stright on. ‘Mybe see you tomorrow,’ I lmost yell. But I don’t. You don’t wnt to frek out The Ass. 1


MONKEYSHIT I m n nxious piece of monkeyshit. A beutiful little turd. A drk-brown turd with those little creses tht turds hve becuse of the wy they were compressed in the bowel. Life is the Monkey. It shits in its hnd nd hurls me into the byss.

SLOW. EASY. BASE. Slow thoughts in my hed from  murky depth of debuchery lst night. Focus is seconds-long nd lcks ny wisp of grndeur. I retret to my bsest self on recovery-dys. Ignore the hednd body pin, drink  few beers nd think up sexnd frt-jokes. Keep it simple nd dirty. Esy nd bse.

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NO-ONE EVER HEARD THE SHOT Johnny ws  boy. Johnny ws  mn wh o never cred, nd never WOULD cre  bout bsiclly nything t ll. Why d id Johnny not cre? Wht ws his prob lem? Wht is your fucking problem Joh nny? Hve you got drk spirits living in your crnium? Did you never get en ough love? Wht hppened to mke you so creless? One dy Johnny ws found in  chep hotel room. It ws  room he hd hired for hlf n hour. Johnny ws ded on the bed with his brins s plttered on the wll behind him nd  gun in his hnd. In the bthtub li d Lucy, one of the locl hookers who turned tricks on the strip. Johnny w s 23 yers old. Lucy ws 45. She’d be en n old timer in the trde. Hd bee n, since Lucy ws ded too, her ded eyes string to heven nd infinity  nd beyond through the now cold wter. She ws nked, her clothes lying in  little hep on the floor next to th e tub. They were soked. Lucy hd die d with the tp running. The proprieto r hd broken into the room when the h lf-hour-renters from the room below hd complined bout wter leking th rough the ceiling. First he hd knock ed on the door, yelling to them to cu t the wter before fucking. He ws,  fter ll, trying to run n honest bus iness here. When there ws no rectio n from inside the room he hd kicked open the door. Wht the hell ws goin g on here? He found Johnny on the bed 3


his brins on the wll, nd Lucy in t he tub, string into nowhere with her ple-blue eyes. Not gin, he hd tho ught t tht moment, but tht ws not to be told to the cops. He ws shocke d, is wht he hd told them, but they didn’t sk for the ddress of the Gol den Fether Hotel. They’d been there mny times before. Two cops in unifor m cme first. They secured the crimescene with tht yellow tpe tht sys ‘DO NOT CROSS’. Then in cme two pli n-clothes cops. They herd the story from the proprietor Hrry. He didn’t tell them the ‘not-gin’ prt. Tht would only confuse the sitution. The y first took  look t Lucy. She seem ed to be smiling. How strnge. They n oticed how her blck pubes did not m tch her pltinum-blond hir. Her now permnent hrd nipples stuck out of t he wter. She hd big used brests. W hy ws she smiling? No signs of viole nce, no signs of struggle. The utops y would hve to tell wht she died of . Johhny ws esy: Suicide. He hd  little piece of pper clutched in his left hnd. It sid: Don’t worry bout me mother, I’ll be fine.

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A TRAM-RIDE The trm ws very full. Mny people stnding. But, lo nd behold,  set for me. In my greed I sit down nd simultneously relise I st down next to  bsket cse. She is in her erly 50s, mssive, you know, BIG but solid. Hir like  witches’ broom, dressed in off-red swetpnts nd  mtching woollen sweter, of which I’m sure they’re her only grments. She looks t me vcntly. Her eyes so empty it puzzles me. The ldy cross from us sys: ‘I don’t know wht’s wrong with her.’ I hd lredy smelled her breth nd wnt to sy, ‘I know wht’s wrong with her. she’s spsticlly drunk.’ But I don’t, becuse I’d rther hve those eyes resting on me vcntly, thn full of rge. So I sit there  while, when I feel my right leg 5


getting wrm. Moist wrm. The smell of piss fills my nostrils nd I KNOW wht just hppened. I m tken bck by the wek smile of contentment she hs produced, iming it t me. I wnt to yell ‘wht the fuck?’ but she pre-empts by expertly directing  jet of green bile into my lp. All of  sudden there is SPACE round me on the trm, nd I get up, not knowing wht to do. She still looks t me, grinning now. Just s I’m bout to spek, her eyes roll bck in her hed only showing the whites, nd she lets out  frightening cckle, nd on her forehed ppers, in flme, the word LOVE

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GREED I bought this coin on the weekend mrket in Ching Mi, Thilnd. An Americn one dollr coin from eighteen-o-four. I ws wht they cll  Liberty dollr, becuse Liberty ws wht the hed of it showed. Now, the Internet TOLD me, SHARED with me, tht THAT coin might be worth  lot of money. Thousnds of NEW dollrs. And I knew where to get more of these coins. So, of I go to Mr. Mx Stern, the coin deler, crooked nd old. He sks me: ‘Hve you been to Beirut?’ ‘No…’ ‘Hve you been to Indonesi?’ ‘No…’ ‘Hve you been to Thilnd?’ ‘Yes…’ ‘Well, it’s  good fke.’ He tosses it bck to me. ‘Awwwww’ I sy, ‘You killed the mgic.’ ‘No’ he responds, ‘You sked me to.’ 7


IT BURNS My crotch is on fire for my love of lechery. My hert is brimming, teeming, overflowing, with life unknown. My soul is burning eternlly in severl hells. And my will‌ My will? My will is s strong s  young oxen led to the slughter. It burns, this life. It burns holes in ll I know, ll I will ever know, ll I hve ever known. It burns holes tht I love.

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THE OTHERS Kerouc drnk himself to deth. So did Twin. Thompson blew his brins out. So did Hemingwy. Bukowski ws n lcoholic nd  misogynist. Why dmire  bunch of cripples? Survey the pst nd try not to lern nything.

THE UNDEAD Terrible drems lst night. Cn’t seem to shke it. When I close my eyes, flickers of terrible violence on the bck of my eyelids. I wonder wht drem-encyclopedi hve to sy bout the unded.

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GHOST I st in  br one morning nursing  bloody Mry when this guy cme in looking white s  sheet. He ws shking. ‘You look terrible. Wht’s wrong?’ ‘You’d look terrible if you’d just seen your own ghost.’ ‘You sw your own ghost?’ ‘Tht’s wht I sid.’ ‘Wht does tht men?’ ‘It cn men two things: I’m lredy ded, or I’m dying soon. This might be my lst drink.’ He looked me in the eye nd downed the drink with urgency. ‘No, you’re still here. I’ll buy your next possibly lst drink.’ We hd mny lst drinks. We got drunker nd drunker while he got pler nd pler. I strted to see his veins through his skin. He becme  bit blue. ‘Not long now,’ I sid. He looked t his hnd, exmined it. ‘I think you’re right,’ he sid. He got up 10


from his stool nd wlked over to  womn sitting t the other end of the br. ‘Bby, I’m either ded or dying. I wnt to go out swinging. How much?’ ‘Fifty dollrs, full service,’ she responded. ‘I’ll give you  hundred. The lst time ought to be good.’ ‘OK’ she sid nd led him to the restroom. Thirteen minutes lter she cme bck out looking white s  sheet.

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THEFT NO ONE ‘Do you do tht t home too?’ ‘Do you stel t home s well?’ The Greek mother yelled t her dughter, who lened ginst the wll of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese. She, the girl, ws ngry, but not crying. Must’ve been bout ten. From wht I understood the girl hd stolen money from Grndm. Intense. The mother ws in shock nd strted cursing nd rging in Greek. Ten yers old nd steling from Grndm. The rest of the fmily stood round, looking sullen. Little brother, string t his feet. Fther, silent with nger. And (nother?) grndmother, who ws stnding behind  wheelchir with  blind, def, hndicpped child in it. A little spit dribbling down his chin.

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WASHINGTON DULLES Wshington Dulles now. Hve spent my time with  Jim Bem,  pint, nd  double espresso. THAT should keep me going. I’ve been wke  long time now nd it’s gonn be  good time longer. This terminl is dedly boring. Behind the br re some very unhppy Ltinos (Is tht the PC term?). The first thing I’ve noticed is the high level of ugliness nd ft in this irport. If tht’s the generl geneticl stte of this ntion, then I seriously need to strt wondering bout how on erth Americ hs become tody’s Rome. Worrying, very worrying.

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TWO GIRLS Two girls, somewht ft nd looking bsolutely ghetto. They re wlking on the trin-rils nd so forced the trin to stop. I see them wlking pst twice. A conductor is trying to sntch ‘m of the rils, but they deftly wlk the other wy. I see  gold tooth. Their fces re mischievous. They re bout 17. Trshy. Visions of them being jumped by  full ger police riot squd go through my mind. It fills me with joy.

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UNEMPLOYED Unemployed nd writing  poem to mke me feel better. It mens I hve done something with my dy. When one dy just flows into nother it is the truth tht I sometimes feel like n empty shell. The simple justifiction of this poem s sweet  slvtion s I’ll ever get. GOODBYE Goodbye to you, my brother. Goodbye to you, my friend. It’s been long, sometimes short, but lwys sweet till the end. We rode long nights. We rode long dys. Alwys in our herts, ‘Come wht my.’ Never did I suspect, though, tht it would end like this. Me with my bck to you,  hole in my belly from your gun’s kiss.

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RAINBOW I just sw this rinbow while I ws on my wy to hve some coffee. I sw it, nd it ws glorious. I wnted to shre it with someone nd there ws this girl wlking towrds me with her bck to the rinbow. She ws deep in thought nd didn’t her me when I sid, pointing to the rinbow: ‘There’s  rinbow.’ My voice sounded weird nd I wsn’t sure whether she hdn’t herd me, or whether she’d ignored me. I felt like  weirdo sure enough. I st on  smll pole nd fced the rinbow, wtching it becoming more rdint nd then slowly fding. Once I glnced bck nd the girl ws now looking t the rinbow too. She gve me smile. It only lsted  minute or so, 16


this rinbow, nd I ws hppy I’d been ble to shre it with someone, t lest. The minute of beuty hdn’t been lost.

FORM Form. Everything might be bout form. Boxes, things should fit into. Then you might s well pck it ll up nd put it in storge, right?

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JOIN ME Yes, my friend, don’t we ALL feel the Gret Second Coming? Aren’t we l convinced tht the End is nigh? Terrible thoughts enter my brin when I wtch ‘The News’ these dys. Are they LYING TO ME? Or re they telling THE TRUTH? If you’d believe ANY newsreport these dys, you would spend the rest of your dys hunkered down under your bed, shivering like  Sumtrn bechfront. WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON? THAT is the question. But there is no-one trustworthy round nymore to sk. It’s ll  big mess. Anyone telling the Truth will be stomped by THEM, whoever THEY re. Well, of it’s ll fucked, we might s well enjoy the ride. Me, I’m going to strt with nti-socil behviour nd drinking on the job. Like  good citizen. Rise only  bit of suspicion, never enough for them to put the finger on me. A weird VISION in the corner of the world’s eye. 18


EX-JOCKEY Jockey-cp, blck nd white. Reflective sunglsses, hwi-shirt, tttoo on rm, vgue (mermid?), very short beige pnts. His legs, the right one wsted wy more thn the other. Socks in sndls. The gretness of old men. THE SAME Young Thi gthered here for Sturdy-night. One kid lredy very drunk nd flling sleep. His friends pester him  bit. He lughs nd clps to the music. It’s ll the sme everywhere.

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KUALA LUMPUR 29 minutes. 29 minutes it would tke the trin to get from KL irport to the city, is wht the posters told me. Not hlf n hour. Not even 29.5 minutes. 29 minutes. I timed it on my wtch. 29 minutes exctly. Progress is counted in minutes, seconds even. Very precise. The irport nd the trin were mirrors of the ffluence of this country. So too the trin-sttion. The contrst with most peoples’ relity hit me s I left the sttion. Rich nd poor were removed very fr from ech other in this plce, but they lived on top of ech other. Skyscrpers towering over slums. 20


SHITFART Fumbled thoughts pssing through my hed like hot frts. I shit-frted my pnts the other dy, for the first time in ges. Wht does tht hve to do with ANYTHING? Well… My brin is much like tht prticulr shit-frt tody. Stop trying to think, nd let go.

FLU I wonder, will I ever strt writing poems tht strt with ‘When I ws  young mn.’ I’m supposed to be  young mn now, but my body feels old. A rotting crcss filled with sickness.

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ORIGINAL SIN When Adm nd Eve te tht pple from the tree of knowledge in the grden of Eden, they committed, wht some cll, The Originl Sin. Wouldn’t it be gret if you could commit n originl sin? Something wholly new nd unexpected. Come in weirdly swinging from the fr left-field. But ls, It’s ll been done before nd we’ll just hve to mke do with the tried nd trusty.

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GREEK TAVERNA I lwys end up in the Greek tvern cross the rod from my house lte t night, t one or two in the AM, when only  few of the old Greeks who frequent the plce re still there. By this stge they re t lest s drunk s I m. We ll enjoy the songs crooned by the old mn, but I’m the only one who doesn’t know wht he is singing bout. I imgine love, but it could be deth, or horseshit, for ll I know. The old couples dnce with n bndon hrdly seen these dys. The women mke lewd moves with their hips nd big sses, nd look like 20-yer-old girls if you only look t their eyes. The men dnce like gint pecocks, crzy roosters, 23


their rms held wide s if to both invite their womn nd dre ll who’d like  chllenge. They lep high nd kick up their leg, showing their prowess. It’s like n ncient mting dnce. I only ever sty for one drink. After tht I feel I’ve peeked long enough into  world tht isn’t mine.

jorn.monteiro@gmil.com

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COME Come, come s you re. Becuse in here, in here we believe in Nothing.

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The Monkey Shits In Its Hand  

And old poetry booklet I originally published in late 2007.

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