La Guerre (4) ee cummings

August 26, 2012

La Guerre


little ladies more
than dead exactly dance
in my head,precisely
dance where danced la guerre.

Mimi à
la voix fragile
qui chatouille Des

the putain with the ivory throat
Marie Louise Lallemand
n’est-ce pas que je suis belle
chéri? les anglais m’aiment
tous,les américains
aussi…”bon dos, bon cul de Paris”(Marie

with the
long lips of
Lucienne which dangle
the old men and hot
men se promènent
doucement le soir(ladies

accurately dead les anglais
sont gentils et les américains
aussi,ils payent bien les américains dance

exactly in my brain voulez-
vous coucher avec
moi? Non? pourquoi?)

ladies skillfully
dead precisely dance
where has danced la
guerre j’m’appelle
Manon,cinq rue Henri Monnier
voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
te ferai Mimi
te ferai Minette
dead exacgtly dance
si vous voulez
mon lézard ladies suddenly
j’m’en fous des nègres

(in the twilight of Paris
Marie Louise with queenly
legs cinq rue Henri
Monnier a little love
begs,Mimi with the body
like une boîte a joujoux,want nice sleep?
toutes les petites femmes exactes
qui dansent toujours in my
head dis-donc,Paris

ta gorge mystérieuse
pourquoi se promène-t-elle,pourquoi
éclate to voix
fragile couleur de pivoine?)

with the

long lips of Lucienne which
dangle the old men and hot men
precisely dance in my head
ladies carefully dead

La Guerre (3) ee cummings

August 25, 2012


La Guerre


the bigness of cannon
is skilful,

but i have seen
death’s clever enormous voice
which hides in a fragility
of poppies…

i say that sometimes
on these long talkative animals
are laid fists of huger silence.

I have seen all the silence
filled with vivid noiseless boys

at Roupy
i have seen
between barrages,

the night utter ripe for unspeaking girls.


La Guerre (2) ee cummings

August 25, 2012

La Guerre


earth like a tipsy
biddy with an old mop punching
conventions exposes

hidden obscenities
into neglected sentiments brings
to light dusty

and finally colliding with the most
expensive furniture upsets

crucifix which smashes into several
pieces and is hurriedly picked up and
thrown on the ash-heap


what was once the discobolus of



I was on Goodreads early this morning and saw a poem by ee cummings that was absolutely lovely. Possessing as I do E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems, I went in search of it. It’s one of a 5 part poem called La Guerre. I will post one part of the poem each day for the next five days.

La Guerre


Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchinly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you