I know we’re all sick of Charlie Sheen news or at least pretend to be, but as the sticker on the back of my rascal scooter says, “I brake for poems.” On Monday I brought you the news that Troma had discovered in their archives a 1989 film called A Tale of Two Sisters, based on the poetry of Charlie Sheen and narrated by Sheen himself. Brace yourselves for this next news because you’ll never believe it, but it turns out Troma is REISSUING the title and it will soon be available in THEIR STORE. I know, I was as surprised as you. You probably got my cooties when your jaw hit the floor.
They sent over a clip with a new poem, which I’ve taken the liberty of transcribing for you. Just when you’re like, but wait, where are the vagina references? BOOM! There’s the vagina references! Sometimes I wonder if we’d even have poetry if it weren’t for vaginas.
Ghandi’s back teeth pudding [10 points for revolting visual]
When offered gum she repled
No thanks, when I chew gum, I think I chew gum [whoa, deep...]
Korean hair and coconut milk frozen juice bars [sounds like someone composed this at his corner store]
Oversized man fell overboard, splash
Yes, Phyllis, she smokes.
Dog-tooth necklace worn by a cat
The tension mounts
Vaginal riots in the Middle East [did Charlie Sheen predict Libya?]
Do I have a choice? Do I have an option? Mommy, I love you
Boogie mama disco queen, midnight whore.
Peas and onions, of course, peas and onions [of course]
Gibberish wept.
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William S. Burroughs would want whatever Sheen was on when he wrote that.
Is Charlie Sheen like the Troma version of Joaquin Phoenix/Casey Affleck? Because all of this would suddenly start making sense.
Hey, fuck you Uproxx(xxxxx!)!
I’m thinking along the same vein, Fek. I have come to conclusion that his “meltdown” is some manner of performance art/gag. It’s just too perfectly batshit to be fake, and deep within the gibberish is an underlying salience that smacks of a knowing wink and a nod.
^…to not be fake…
F’this, I’m going to go get shit faced and go to a hockey game.
Qaplah! In a few minutes, The Mighty Feklahr is going to get shitfaced and start a fire!
(True story! He is grilling out tonight! Guy’cha!)
Lovely Lizzie, sign that check
Those diamonds hang from your throttled neck…
Rebel rouser, call me Phil
Dressed so dark won’t take the pill
It has to be Burroughs he’s ripping off there? YouTube is fail. This is killing me.
It doesn’t count as poetry until I see it on a Hallmark card. I am SOOOOOOO giving my wife a Charliemark card for our anniversary this year!
Yeeeea,uh huhhh, you know what it is
peas and onions, peas and onions, peas and onions
If Charlie starts hanging out in trash cans behind Bob Dylan’s house, I called it.
Actually, that doesn’t seem all that far fetched.
Vaginal riots … Lybia … MUST … RESIST …
OBVIOUS VAJ GAG!!!
*bites on ball gag instead*
Libya, even.
Fuckin’ spaz.
Vaginal riots in the Middle East are usually instigated by sand.
Charlie Sheen isn’t a drug, it’s a religion!
Oh, I’m not familiar with futurist percussive poems.