La Femme Repent

from ulu by leslie helpert



this is a historical mash-up: riddled with "Bush-isms" and mis-paired facts, here the slave-ships were filled with tied up victorian women, for example. this piece touches on a theme i continually re-enter, Columbian-era Imperialism, Elizabethan dyslexic formalities (pushing away the very one you want, etc. creating law to subdue the most powerful forces, nature versus man, etc.) and it's told all from the inside of a space helmet worn by a femme-bot, some light years away where meters are reckoned in Meteorites.


he said
"oh it's unusual, you are most beautiful
when you are close-up."
and so he boarded her quick
on a far traveling ship
when she fell(d) asleep.

And she woke up next to 500-odd ladies
all tied to slave ship beds
silently screaming which can be in some
cases much louder than sirens
when clutching in teeth
snaffle-bit metal roses red.

he said
"your brilliant wit it's so
marvelously fit
and a rarity becomes
more whittled-ly brilliant
under the last layer of your frock."
and so with one phone call
he had his assistant send
for entire empire-waisted/wasted
jackets with the slip and
lacy things she's have to use
all her figuring just to
get these things off.

Well it's just not so polite to say
and especially because
i'd have to point a finger
point a finger through
an insipid glove
whose finger-tips cannot feel
they're languid from his language.

Convoluted doily heart
that dreams of quick-coming men
who've never learned to make love...
fool her twice
it's certainly all her shame
she's room to hold the blame
for the one who'se never learned to make love.

But it's just not so polite to say that
and especially because
I have to use His Language
saying "i said, i said...
Run to the hills in '89" the hills have all run on
the earth herself's gettin' outta
my country.....
'til nothing breaks the dawn.

(he said)
"Oh beautiful
it's for spacious and amber waves
I'm game,
to the rolling planes
and the lolling dames
while behind this door
by bed you'll be framed.
Oh and wait on me
for I cannot wait
a man's success
is marked by his heed.
But in all due time
I'll have 10-dozen sheep as mine
and and equal amount of steed...
Be like my Corn and Cope
with all the means I broke
you into kaleidoscope
I'll take your poetry
and end in an even rhyme scheme
to prove as Hero
that Murder she Wrote."

Well it's just not so polite to say
and especially because
I'd have to point a finger.
Point a finger through an insipid glove
whose finger tips cannot feel
they've never learned to Make Love.
Convoluted doily heart
that I at once claimed as mine
...I cut out in two dimension....
But it's just not so polite to say that
and especially because
I'd have to use his language
Saying "I said, I prove, I trade-marked...
The Temple Fell
Long before Merrill Lynch fell
Turned a Cell for the so-called terrorists
and infidel...
Now you show me a Man
and then I'll show you on My Knees
How my fists can make a cross
And I'll play
'La Femme Repent'."


from ulu, released October 1, 2009
dave bianchi- production
nic talvola- trumpet
miguel serna dominguez- electric bass
oriol roca- drum kit
leslie-acoustic & electric guitars, voice


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::leslie jill helpert º≠º New York, New York

<---a non-deductive anachronymph, meaning, mostly "of a chronologically inconsistent hemimetaboly". she makes candy out of earthsap, rudders and thunder ----->

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