REJECTED POEMS

A collection offers satiric poems that have been rejected by other publishers.

Lass was born in a German village in 1938, “a couple of months after Kristallnacht.” The poet asserts that “being formed by the 20th Century, I could not help who I was, and sarcasm was just about the only thing left to me.” This collection is divided into sections, including “Silly Poems,” “Charades on a Political Reality Show,” “Vibe of the Ishtar Gate,” and “The Left Drawer,” with poems ranging from the mischievously playful to the bitingly sarcastic. All of the selections were rejected for publication elsewhere. The opening poem, “The Apple,” plays on the word app to muse about religion and technology. Elsewhere, Lass sneers at the “coolness” of West Coast culture and its ever-evolving trends: “Roadkill from LA is superior, / Being reptilian and wise. / My rocking horse is entangled in deep / Stratosfairies of thenness, newness, itness, And ifness.” Named for the ancient Babylonian gate decorated with deities and animals, the Ishtar poems diverge into mythology, summoning, among others, Canaanite gods and West African spirits. Here, the poet melds the mythological world with the trappings of the contemporary: “Let’s avoid those seraphs, / What horrid little pests they are, / Dipping their arrows in angel dust Viagra!” Meanwhile, many of “The Left Drawer” poems scoff wearily at the absurdity of modern life: “A world glut-stuffed / With sons-of-bitches.”

Lass writes erudite poetry that is punctuated with precise, powerfully unsettling imagery: “And I will hear half your words. / My emotions are deadened / Like desiccated nerves.” Many of the untitled poems found here pose probing philosophical questions and respond with devastating answers: “Is man kind? / Is mankind God? / Is God mankind? / Mankind is God in ruins.” There is often a fine line between satire and the offensive. Lass enjoys approaching that divide. His writing can be crudely humorous, as when pointing out the brazenness of oil corporation executives: “Whether you pull out / Your testicles / While peeing, / Or leave them discreetly / In, / Is an absolutely / Sure indicator / Of your racketeer / Rank.” But readers who interpret the poet as perpetuating rather than lampooning prejudice will not enjoy his work: “I did watch the Para-Olympits. / You gotta admit, it’s a little tough to watch for too long….They don’t need me watching them, / let them do their own / hype.” In this collection, no subject is immune to satire. In another piece, the poet mimics Jamaican patois to call out corrupt evangelists: “He go to dey horehouse and he get rolld.” Such lines may well be written with ironic implications, but are difficult to stomach. On other occasions, the use of irony drives home Lass’ point emphatically, as when adopting the voice of pro-gun politicians to emphasize the absurdity of their argument: “The truth is not the truth, / Therefore it can never be true! / Death by automatic rifle occurs / Because there is a lack of such weapons.” Many of these rejected poems are worth reading, but the assemblage is marred by a few that stray too far over the line.

Effective, cutting but sometimes disconcerting poetry.