cumple negroni

en que los dos cochinitos felicitan a un “Moço”,
el más moreno de los tres,
en su cumpleaños, en Terça Rima

armamos una fiesta el 19
con pambazos y chiles en nogada;
prometimos llevarla medio leve

y olvidarnos del tobi y su coca(da);
invitamos a jota y a raquito,
invitamos a evita bien portada,

a mónica, a rebeka (al pinche fito
lo cortamos), a hildita y a tamara,
a melcocha, a elizonda pal gabito,

yo me traje unos vodkas, mauro lara
unas grapas tamaño no me jodas,
adictvm sus casets de pepe jara;

la fiesta era pa ti, mi rompebodas,
romperrolas y porras, rompechistes,
mi negrito vudú, pinche pagoda(s),
la fiesta era pa ti y te nos dormistes!

contra bono

ya en la redacción de baile caliente le teníamos retirada la palabra a bono y a sus cuates desde hace rato… pero esto es demasiado. nuestros (ellos sí) amiguísimos de mocedades acaban de enviarnos una estrofa que quitaron en el corte final de esa obra maestra, ¿quién te cantará?, escrita de la mano de otro genio: juan carlos calderón en 1978. leed:

¿quién galopará
tu potro salvaje?
¿quién se podr’ahogar
en tu mar azul?
¿quién galopará
tu potro salvaje?
¿quién te hará su dios?

y comparad con esta estrofa de la “autoría” de bono y sus canchanchanes:

who’s gonna ride your wild horses?
who’s gonna drown in your blue sea?
who’s gonna ride your wild horses?
who’s gonna fall at the foot of thee?

las semejanzas no pueden ser casualidad: no aquí. por cierto quel último verso de la estrofa castellana:

¿quién te hará su dios?

es interminablemente más contundente y digno que el de u2, con su sinécdoque baratísima y su silabota de más:

who’s gonna fall at the foot of thee?

¿cómo llegó a esas ladronas manos la estrofita despreciada por mocedades y calderón? tal vez nunca lo sabremos. lo que sí sabemos es a dónde vamos a mandar a bono la próxima vez que nos venga a chillar que le invitemos unas chelas.

cualquiera puede comprobar la veracidad de esta nota con un clic derecho/descargar. croon along.

¿quién te cantará?

contra “poetas”

en que los tres cochinitos suplican el regreso
de una Moça exploradora en el extranjero

no seas mala ya vuelve de tu exilio
y lléname de besos y cocteles,
que estoy solo en la casa
y aburrido y mi perra,
carajo, se la pasa
echada ante la puerta
llorando con un llanto
que nunca había sonado en la colonia,
los versos se me acaban ya regresa,
estoy tan pendejito que podría
pasarme cada noche te leyendo
a sabines, girondo o benedetti,
no nos dejes caer en el ridículo,
tú sabes que no trago al ’che sabines,
no me hagas recurrir a benedetti,
ni me hagas tropezarme en o. girondo:
regresa por favor de san antonio.

En el que La Muerte le habla desde un telefono desconoçido a Manolo y le dice:

Prepara tus maletas lentamente:
de viaje por el mundo sin presura
voy tragando las almas más cachondas
que creen poder enfrentarse a las negras
huestes que son enfermedades, guerras,
bebidas y drogas y celos ruines
que violaron a Sodoma y Gomorra

y tu capital también violarán:
Tlalpan, Balbuena, también Coyoacán

So: cuida tu trasero, Manolito,
que vengo cuando menos te lo esperes,
m'escondo en los lugares que frecuentas:

salones, calzones, tellas, burdeles
serán tu condena y seránte fieles.

muestrario

En vista de la lamentable madriza que nuestros Bardos le acomodan diariamente a La Poesía, los tres cochinitos, acomedidos como son, ponen a la disposición de Vuessa Merced su catálogo de endecasílabos. Úselos Vuessa Merced a discreción, en bonitos sonetos, en largas odas tercetísticas, en ponedoras octavas reales, en grafitis coyoacanos, etcétera etcétera. Hay de todo: sáficos, heroicos, trocaicos, con diéresis, con sinéresis, con hiato, con yato, agudos, esdrújulos, todos libres de derechos y totalmente gratuitos. Ésta es una muestra; el catálogo consta de más de 6,000 versos. Va, pues:

- un sauce de cristal, un chopo de agua

ja! no, ya en serio:

- las doce de la noche y ni tus luces
- las luces de tu noche y ni mis doce
- las tres de la mañana y yo sin sueño
- ¿las once de la noche y ya dormida?
- me gusta tu valor para el cuerneo
- me gusta la cornada que te ensarto
- en cueros o vestidos, de a perrito
- perritos ayuntándose en mi cuarto
- mi cuarto sí se asoma a la ventana
- aventémonos muérdeme larguémonos
- vayamos a vivir a badajoz
- bajemos por los chescos y las chelas
- la chela está carísima en el súper
- oye, chela, ¿pa cuándo los cachorros?
- te rajas en el último momento
- las rajas sólo en tortas de la buenos
- la buenos es de cuates, tú no pasas
- ¿qué pasa si nos vamos al carajo?
- al carajo los sonnets de viejitos
- la neta mis sonetos no son netos
- sonetos los de lorca dice el ruco
- ¿l'orcamos diuna vez o lo esperamos?
- espero que me pagues de contado
- ¿te contaron del pobre del adrián?
- al güey se lo cogieron en tijuana
- en tijuana te cogen por dos varos
- dos varos por tu cuerpo dijo durrell
- el durrell no me aguanta unos tequilas
- tequilas pal dolor o pa la fiesta
- fiestones nos echamos en regina
- con regina m'echaba un acostón
- acostémonos pues ya no te quejes
- me quejo que no llegas ¡son las doce!
- las doce de la noche y ni tus luces...

33

However, the egg only got larger and larger, and more and more human: when she had come within a few yards of it, she saw that it had eyes and a nose and mouth; and when she had come close to it, she saw clearly that it was HUMPTY DUMPTY himself. 'It can't be anybody else!' she said to herself. 'I'm as certain of it, as if his name were written all over his face.'

It might have been written a hundred times, easily, on that enormous face. Humpty Dumpty was sitting with his legs crossed, like a Turk, on the top of a high wall--such a narrow one that Alice quite wondered how he could keep his balance--and, as his eyes were steadily fixed in the opposite direction, and he didn't take the least notice of her, she thought he must be a stuffed figure after all.

'And how exactly like an egg he is!' she said aloud, standing with her hands ready to catch him, for she was every moment expecting him to fall.

'It's VERY provoking,' Humpty Dumpty said after a long silence, looking away from Alice as he spoke, 'to be called an egg-- VERY!'

'I said you LOOKED like an egg, Sir,' Alice gently explained.

'And some eggs are very pretty, you know' she added, hoping to turn her remark into a sort of a compliment.

'Some people,' said Humpty Dumpty, looking away from her as usual, 'have no more sense than a baby!'

Alice didn't know what to say to this: it wasn't at all like conversation, she thought, as he never said anything to HER; in fact, his last remark was evidently addressed to a tree--so she stood and softly repeated to herself: --

'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall:
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses and all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.'

'That last line is much too long for the poetry,' she added, almost out loud, forgetting that Humpty Dumpty would hear her.

'Don't stand there chattering to yourself like that,' Humpty Dumpty said, looking at her for the first time, 'but tell me your name and your business.'

'My NAME is Alón, but--'

'It's a stupid enough name!' Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently.

'What does it mean?'

'MUST a name mean something?' Alice asked doubtfully.

'Of course it must,' Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh:

'MY name means the shape I am--and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost.'

'Why do you sit out here all alone?' said Alice, not wishing to begin an argument.

'Why, because there's nobody with me!' cried Humpty Dumpty.

'Did you think I didn't know the answer to THAT? Ask another.'

'Don't you think you'd be safer down on the ground?' Alice went on, not with any idea of making another riddle, but simply in her good-natured anxiety for the queer creature. 'That wall is so VERY narrow!'

'What tremendously easy riddles you ask!' Humpty Dumpty growled out. 'Of course I don't think so! Why, if ever I DID fall off-- which there's no chance of--but IF I did--' Here he pursed his lips and looked so solemn and grand that Alice could hardly help laughing. 'IF I did fall,' he went on, 'THE KING HAS PROMISED ME--WITH HIS VERY OWN MOUTH--to--to--'

'To send all his horses and all his men,' Alice interrupted, rather unwisely.

'Now I declare that's too bad!' Humpty Dumpty cried, breaking into a sudden passion. 'You've been listening at doors--and behind trees-- and down chimneys--or you couldn't have known it!'

'I haven't, indeed!' Alice said very gently. 'It's in a book.'

'Ah, well! They may write such things in a BOOK,' Humpty Dumpty said in a calmer tone. 'That's what you call a History of England, that is. Now, take a good look at me! I'm one that has spoken to a King, I am: mayhap you'll never see such another: and to show you I'm not proud, you may shake hands with me!' And he grinned almost from ear to ear, as he leant forwards (and as nearly as possible fell of the wall in doing so) and offered Alice his hand. She watched him a little anxiously as she took it. 'If he smiled much more, the ends of his mouth might meet behind,' she thought: 'and then I don't know what would happen to his head! I'm afraid it would come off!'

'Yes, all his horses and all his men,' Humpty Dumpty went on.

'They'd pick me up again in a minute, THEY would! However, this conversation is going on a little too fast: let's go back to the last remark but one.'

'I'm afraid I can't quite remember it,' Alice said very politely.

'In that case we start fresh,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'and it's my turn to choose a subject--' ('He talks about it just as if it was a game!' thought Alice.) 'So here's a question for you. How old did you say you were?'

Alice made a short calculation, and said 'Seven years and six months.'

'Wrong!' Humpty Dumpty exclaimed triumphantly. 'You never said a word like it!'

'I though you meant "How old ARE you?"' Alice explained.

'If I'd meant that, I'd have said it,' said Humpty Dumpty.

Alice didn't want to begin another argument, so she said nothing.

'Seven years and six months!' Humpty Dumpty repeated thoughtfully. 'An uncomfortable sort of age. Now if you'd asked MY advice, I'd have said "Leave off at seven"--but it's too late now.'

'I never ask advice about growing,' Alice said indignantly.

'Too proud?' the other inquired.

Alice felt even more indignant at this suggestion. 'I mean,' she said, 'that one can't help growing older.'

'ONE can't, perhaps,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'but TWO can. With proper assistance, you might have left off at seven.'

'What a beautiful belt you've got on!' Alice suddenly remarked.

(They had had quite enough of the subject of age, she thought: and if they really were to take turns in choosing subjects, it was her turn now.) 'At least,' she corrected herself on second thoughts, 'a beautiful cravat, I should have said--no, a belt, I mean--I beg your pardon!' she added in dismay, for Humpty Dumpty looked thoroughly offended, and she began to wish she hadn't chosen that subject. 'If I only knew,' the thought to herself, 'which was neck and which was waist!'

Evidently Humpty Dumpty was very angry, though he said nothing for a minute or two. When he DID speak again, it was in a deep growl.

'It is a--MOST--PROVOKING--thing,' he said at last, 'when a person doesn't know a cravat from a belt!'

'I know it's very ignorant of me,' Alice said, in so humble a tone that Humpty Dumpty relented.

'It's a cravat, child, and a beautiful one, as you say. It's a present from the White King and Queen. There now!'

'Is it really?' said Alice, quite pleased to find that she HAD chosen a good subject, after all.

'They gave it me,' Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully, as he crossed one knee over the other and clasped his hands round it,

'they gave it me--for an un-birthday present.'

'I beg your pardon?' Alice said with a puzzled air.

'I'm not offended,' said Humpty Dumpty.

'I mean, what IS an un-birthday present?'

'A present given when it isn't your birthday, of course.'

Alice considered a little. 'I like birthday presents best,' she said at last.

'You don't know what you're talking about!' cried Humpty Dumpty. 'How many days are there in a year?'

'Three hundred and sixty-five,' said Alice.

'And how many birthdays have you?'

'One.'

'And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?'

'Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.'

Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful. 'I'd rather see that done on paper,' he said.

Alice couldn't help smiling as she took out her memorandum- book, and worked the sum for him:

365

1

364

Humpty Dumpty took the book, and looked at it carefully. 'That seems to be done right--' he began.

'You're holding it upside down!' Alice interrupted.

'To be sure I was!' Humpty Dumpty said gaily, as she turned it round for him. 'I thought it looked a little queer. As I was saying, that SEEMS to be done right--though I haven't time to look it over thoroughly just now--and that shows that there are three hundred and sixty-four days when you might get un-birthday presents--'

'Certainly,' said Alice.

'And only ONE for birthday presents, you know. There's glory for you!'

'I don't know what you mean by "glory,"' Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. 'Of course you don't-- till I tell you. I meant "there's a nice knock-down argument for you!"'

'But "glory" doesn't mean "a nice knock-down argument,"' Alice objected.

'When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, 'it means just what I choose it to mean--neither more nor less.'

'The question is,' said Alice, 'whether you CAN make words mean so many different things.'

'The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, 'which is to be master-- that's all.'

----------

Dos Bienintencionados Cochinitos
Mandan Beso Y Abrazo Agradecidos
Al Cochinito De Todos Más Copión,
Deseando Suerte, Querido HospitAlón.

Rebáxase Quevedo a hablar con Gongorita. Soneto.

Soñaste que cagabas neçedades,
Gongorita de gloria más bien chica,
cagabas en tu banca bacinica
palabros pobretones: nimiedades;
---dezías construir “frondosidades”,
palabreja que aquí nomás no aplica.
(Francisco desde el Cielo multiplica
pesares que padezcas en el Hades.)
---A Quevedo seguir como un ejemplo
de Virtud, Claridad y fina Rima,
Gongorita de todo tan escaso,
---recomienda Quevedo –es un Tipazo–:
sola manera de alcanzar la Cima,
la Gloria Eterna y el Sagrado Templo.

Baja Gongorita de la Gloria Eterna y Caga Unos Cuantos Versos con Escaça Rima:

Para Don Aldonzo --Apodado Con Toda Justicia "El Necio".

Entiendo tus neçedades
que tú no las que yo fago.
Entiendo tu voz tan ronca,
tú no entiendes mi barroco.

Yo sé que no te concentras,
yo sé que siempre te ausentas.
Son altas mis glorias, Alón,
mas no muestres el vil cobre

criticando a Chabelico,
que reservado ha un lugar
en el Parnaso de los blogs.

No seas naco ni payaso
con tu amigo el culterano,
él sagrado y tú profano.

isabelino

En que los Tres Cochinitos discurren sobre una Moça
que no daba tregua en letra f

fottiamci anima mia fottiamci ahorita
fajemos anunciaste en español
fajemos repetiste and just fuck all
falábamos em línguas ya flaquita
enchufados forzándonos piltrafas
forzándonos a punta de cojines
forzando los cerrojos los confines
de la cocina quién pisó mis gafas?
falso que la fatiga nos alcance
falso que nuestros faunos nos olviden
muy falso que se quejen si eso piden
los de al lado / otro? quieres? me das chance?
flojonazo me dices si me acuesto:
fottiamci anima mia fottiamci presto