[lit-ideas] Freudian Poetry
- From: "Mike Geary" <atlas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 4 May 2006 19:22:56 -0500
FREUD'S FIRST SLIP
Freud's first slip had a lace bodice,
was A line and semi-fitted.
Pure silk was it as befit a man so august
and though he had often discussed
matters sexual with women many,
still he couldn't tell us what women wanted --
whether because they have no penis pointing to it,
or because he hadn't the powers to intuit,
regardless, he blew it.
Sometimes a cigar is only a cigar
and sometimes it's more like a Cadillac car,
all depends on where you coming from are,
I suppose. But as with Freud's own cross-dressing,
we're all of us left second-guessing
how he could have found pleasure
seeing himself by the mirror's measure:
hairy legs and arms protruding,
hipless in a hip-hugging slip,
and Oh, the so disappointed bodice!
Standing there in his slip, hat and cane,
the bane of Eros, he knew he had sinned
accordingly then, he broadly grinned,
Yes! still alive at 65.
Whether perversion is due to inversion
or whether it's the weather
we may never know.
Is the emotional commotion due to potions hormonal?
Or to an ocean of thought-wrought
psychoses?
Are we storm-tossed seas,
or bees on our knees pleading with the queen
not to be so mean?
Ach, who cares? I've always been annoyed by Freud.
Mike Geary
Memphis
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