E. E. Cummings: Poet for August

This month, I’m doing another poet of the month and I wish to showcase Mr. Cummings. Cummings…#phrasing #Archer. Aww.. look at him looking all sexy and contemplating life.


Edward Estlin “E. E.” Cummings (October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962), often styled as e e cummings, as he sometimes signed his name, was an American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright. He wrote approximately 2900 poems, two autobiographical novels, four plays, and several essays.

Cummings is associated with the modernist free-form poetry associated with much poetry in the 20th century. Much of his poetry is written with a original syntax and largely inclining toward an extended use of lower case typography for poetic expression. His use of lower case syntax extended to the rendering even of the personal pronouns “I” to the lower case “i” as may be found in the phrase “i shall go”. Cummings was politically neutral much of his life until the rise of the Cold War when he became a Republican in political orientation and a supporter of Joseph McCarthy during the height of the Cold War. He died in the 1960s after briefly teaching at Harvard University in the 1950s having lived nearly seventy years.  Below is a personal favorite of mine; graphic, but  I say start the month with a Bang! Please enjoy; I know I did.

F.M. Laster

“I never loved another person the way I loved myself”. – Mae West


The boys i mean are not refined

the boys i mean are not refined

they go with girls who buck and bite

they do not give a fuck for luck

they hump them thirteen times a night


one hangs a hat upon her tit

one carves a cross on her behind

they do not give a shit for wit

the boys i mean are not refined


they come with girls who bite and buck

who cannot read and cannot write

who laugh like they would fall apart

and masturbate with dynamite


the boys i mean are not refined

they cannot chat of that and this

they do not give a fart for art

they kill like you would take a piss


they speak whatever’s on their mind

they do whatever’s in their pants

the boys i mean are not refined

they shake the mountains when they dance

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