Tuckford Bunny Press
© 2009-2021 William Frank | Tuckford Bunny Press | Selden, NY | Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication or website may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
The Fulgent Requiem is an exotic book of poetry that goes beyond the social or personal layer to explore the foundation of human nature itself, celebrating and lamenting at the same time all the instinctual and visceral things that make us human. These are the lush poems where the bright and the dark, the violent and the loving, the joy and the Lebensmude, the tragic and comic, in the end and always, inevitably intersect. See sample poems below… a Wickedly delicious it out of a black and horrid gale finishing fat the little bit, licking the bone until it's pale of what's scrummy in travail, you've quite surprised me, I confess. I'm Slumgullion. Forgive the mess. But while you're here, why not sit and listen to the tale of this bone and savor it out of a black and horrid gale? It's jovial, if somewhat stale, but dolts, disasters, folderol, I have found, don’t get old. When I was in the world just lollystrolling about the easy foolishness of suffering, attentive, but not so much patrolling, fanning in my great, God-Given wings the attar sweet, the hopelessness of things, I saw a man against a tree and leering which beguiled me to take the sheep for shearing. I know the awful shape of things to come. I am beyond all mercy and salvation. I am in the painful shadow of that Kingdom where the Jewel Wasp stings and life goes on through the thirst and gnawing of damnation and even though I was one of many men I’ve no compunction now tormenting them for I have known them all, and quite enough, the selfish, belligerent idiots who go heads up their ass though overstuffed and guard from there a worldview that swells their balls until they shoot and you get sperm accidents, murder, adultery, addiction, vanity, the sob story. As expected, he wasn’t much of a prize: short, stupid, boring, a jerk-off, common in every way that common dies not even worth the stamp or salvage cost for, clearly, he was already lost to some other simple, pointless devil, the imbeciles they take at Junior level….

The Fulgent Requiem

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$16.00, 85 pages
Tuckford Bunny Press
© 2009-2021 William Frank | Tuckford Bunny Press | Selden, NY | Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication or website may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
Slumgullion A fresh and timely Satanic masterpiece for today’s free-thinking, forward- facing misery enthusiast, this book-length poem in Rhyme Royal is a musical, vortical and colorectal romp, with all the wonderful temerity that makes us human. Follow Slumgullion as he recounts an unfortunate temptation gone deliciously awful and, in a lyrical tragicomedy, refutes the confusing theodicy that underpins our hapless lives. The book is especially exciting for the faint of heart and suburbanites so pick up a diabolic copy today! Below is the first few pages excerpted from the book,,, a Wickedly delicious it out of a black and horrid gale finishing fat the little bit, licking the bone until it's pale of what's scrummy in travail, you've quite surprised me, I confess. I'm Slumgullion. Forgive the mess. But while you're here, why not sit and listen to the tale of this bone and savor it out of a black and horrid gale? It's jovial, if somewhat stale, but dolts, disasters, folderol, I have found, don’t get old. When I was in the world just lollystrolling about the easy foolishness of suffering, attentive, but not so much patrolling, fanning in my great, God-Given wings the attar sweet, the hopelessness of things, I saw a man against a tree and leering which beguiled me to take the sheep for shearing. I know the awful shape of things to come. I am beyond all mercy and salvation. I am in the painful shadow of that Kingdom where the Jewel Wasp stings and life goes on through the thirst and gnawing of damnation and even though I was one of many men I’ve no compunction now tormenting them for I have known them all, and quite enough, the selfish, belligerent idiots who go heads up their ass though overstuffed and guard from there a worldview that swells their balls until they shoot and you get sperm accidents, murder, adultery, addiction, vanity, the sob story. As expected, he wasn’t much of a prize: short, stupid, boring, a jerk-off, common in every way that common dies not even worth the stamp or salvage cost for, clearly, he was already lost to some other simple, pointless devil, the imbeciles they take at Junior level….
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$8.00, 36 pages