| The
Poetry of Dr. Maximilian Tundra
Some have described the poetry of Dr. Tundra
as "shockingly original", while some have just described it
as "shocking". (And his critics have even had to admit that
it is "shockingly vomitous".) We have managed to recover two
of his unpublished works, introduced by Dr. Tundra himself in his emails
to the Circle:
10 Things to Do With a Brand
New Canoe
Ode To Nurse Ballbeuster
Subject: 10 Things to Do With a Brand
New Canoe
Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1999 11:07:59 PDT
From: drtundra@excite.com
To: Flyboy
CC: The ECRC
Hey Flyboy!
Knowing that I have a bit of time on my hands, The Squire
passed along your request for canoe-poetry. Loved the idea of "Ten things
to do with a brand new canoe". (Besides, I was just sitting around in
the common room watching the others play with their jello anyway.)
Nurse Ballbeuster was nice enough to let me use her computer
(and crayons).
Ten Things to Do in a Brand New Canoe
By Dr. Maximilian Tundra
There are ten things to do in a brand new canoe
Whether made of birch or caledonian yew
You can use it to cook a ragout of fish stew
So you can fill your tent with the smell of gym shoe.
In my younger days it was great for pas-de-deux
(I suppose it needn't be a brand new canoe,
Though non-fiberglass bottoms cause less rash to rue
So I guess we should count "plank bonking" number two.)
It makes a great hat if you run out of shampoo
You can paddle the waters of far Katmandu.
There are ten things to do in a brand new canoe
It can be made of birch or giant timber bamboo.
You can use it to bury your dead kangaroo
It makes a stunning platter for veal cordon bleu.
Once they were made without using epoxy glue
Now they are so high-tech they need their own ground crew.
I'm not obfuscating so please don't misconstrue,
(I'm sure this poem will be up for peer review.)
You can use it to make a big batch of home brew
It can make a platform for pomp and ballyhoo.
There are more than ten things to do with a canoe
Whether it's old of birch bark or brand spanking new.
But I can only say ten, so the chase I'll cut to:
It's a terrible cure for Asiatic flu,
But an awesome new schnoz for Gerard Depardieu.
Toodles,
Max
Dr. Maximilian Tundra
drtundra@exitemail.com
c/o Nurse Ballbeuster
Heilanstalt Ruuschgiftundpeyotesucht
Und Badenhause Bayerische
Bavaria
Deutschland
"It's not the pain, it's the itching!"
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Subject: regrets and an offering
Date: Fri, 28 Jan 2000 11:55:35 -0800 (PST)
From: drtundra@excite.com
To: The ECRC
Alas, alack!! Gentlemen, I am unable to attend
the glamorous and magnificent meeting of towering genius(ii?) that is
the Emily Chesley Reading Circle. As an olive branch, I offer this most
recent effort that I composed for my lady love.
(Unaccountably, she found it most offensive. Perhaps you could explain
why?)
With a sincere buzz,
Max
Ode
to Nurse Ballbeuster
by Dr. Maximilian Tundra
A mountainous range stood before the sympathetic peyote buttons
"Alms for the poor!" cried the brisk, tight peyote buttons
Alas poor Hermes, for I knew him in a well...
Thrice she said with flattering scholiatic lumbar regions and joyful sighs.
My lover held on to my hairless nostril, I was depressed
My ghost repulses the cream solitary guppy
Billowing, enriching, the psychotropic substance felt like a nurse.
Heads whip back when crushed against anvil-like scales
An end is an end is an end, but this is simply the beginning.
A sea cow advances from the passionate electro-shock treatments,
A light wind transported past, like a sea slug breaking wind.
A playboy bunny approached quickly from the navy blue hills,
Piercing sounds, wails, cries, "Shut up you profane doctors!"
The lousy bard sings a ballad, sing the song of the jazzy genitals.. .
In it make him die
Cheerfulness washed over me like a faint lily,
With a youthful grunt and a magnanimous distort we pressed onward
Taste my earlobe or my other parts, feel the pleasure as I style your
hair
Spare me your feminine bauble or I shall manhandle.
Listen not to my trifles but forget your own
Last for the shocking first for the maiming--Now we forget!
Ever briskly, the hand took its toll...
Winky, the precise little sadistic Santa smiled with a cherub grin
"Holy flying screaming Buddha, Batman!" he said radiantly
An easy chair or a smiley guinea pig is the key
Hope for you is not a morning dove, rather a mourning mushroom cloud
Take the B-train and feel the pleasure as I dethrone you
O melancholy world, you have gouged me again.
Never fanaticized about, never more has been whined
Not a hammock ever was known with such fanatacism
With lightning strokes, the sly sexy chapeau shot forward; contemptuously,
swiftly Eating monkeys as snack food, the lurking mass blocked the sun
All were in a circle of juggling shanties--bubbly and crisp,
Opium dens flow from the flesh colored water buffalo
Hope for you is not a morning dove, rather a mourning really nice bed
Wonky peyote, dreadful nurse, feel the pleasure as I massacre you
Fetch this bone, like a dog I will grip you in my blue teeth.
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O Tundra! Max Tundra ....>
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