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Sonnet on Narcissists

The narcissist is in The Factory,
The feminist decides to wrest control...
Why don't you come on over Valerie?
It's time to see if scum has got a soul.
You know he is a spiteful potentate,
And all the venom snipers after you, 
And hopes for his support evaporate, 
And cheap bloodsuckers pop a cap or two.

And what if he made bunting out of porn,
To "prove" his het'rosexuality?
I know you'd make him wish he wasn't born,
It's curtains for this gash-hag, Valerie.
He's running on an empty chieftain tank;
You swoop, I'll roll the rock, I'm pulling rank.


© Sara Nicola Ruth 

Big up

✂ SCUM = Society for Cutting Up Men

Valerie Jean Solanas (April 9, 1936 – April 25, 1988) was an American radical feminist writer who is best known for the SCUM Manifesto (1967) as well as the attempted murder of artist Andy Warhol at his New York studio The Factory. 

“Life” in this “society” being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of “society” being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and eliminate the male sex.

(Valerie Solanas, SCUM Manifesto)

On June 3, 1968, she (…) went to The Factory, where she found Warhol. She shot at Warhol three times, with the first two shots missing and the final wounding Warhol. She also shot art critic Mario Amaya, and attempted to shoot Warhol’s manager, Fred Hughes, point blank, but the gun jammed. Solanas then turned herself in to the police. (…) She was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and pleaded guilty to “reckless assault with intent to harm”, serving a three-year prison sentence, including psychiatric hospital time. 

The attack had a profound impact on Warhol and his art, and the Factory scene became much more tightly controlled afterward. For the rest of his life, Warhol lived in fear that Solanas would attack him again. “It was the Cardboard Andy, not the Andy I could love and play with,” said close friend and collaborator Billy Name. “He was so sensitized you couldn’t put your hand on him without him jumping. I couldn’t even love him anymore, because it hurt him to touch him.” 

🎶 “Why don’t you come on over Valerie?” is from “Valerie“, a song by the English indie rock band  the Zutons from their second studio album, Tired of Hanging Around (2006). The song was later covered by Mark Ronson, with lead vocals provided by Amy Winehouse, reaching number two on the UK Singles Chart in 2007.

🍌  Lou Reed… I’ve pilfered words and phrases from the brilliant “Andy’s Chest” from Transformer (1972).

Reed describes the song as a kind of love song to Andy Warhol after the attempt on his life by Valerie Solanas. Unusually for a song, this reads beautifully as a poem. 

Andy's Chest

If I could be anything in the world that flew
I would be a bat and come swooping after you
And if the last time you were here, things were a bit askew
Well, you know what happens after dark
When rattlesnakes loose their skins and their hearts
And all the missionaries lose their bark
All the trees are calling after you
And all the venom snipers after you
Are all the mountains boulder after you

If I could be anything of the things in this world that bite
Instead of being a tethered ocelot on a leash
I'd rather be your kite
And be tied to the end of your string
And flying in the air, babe, at night
Because you know what they say about honey bears
When you shave off all their baby hair
You've got a hairy minded big bare bear
And all the bells are rolling out for you
And stones are all erupting out for you
And all the cheap bloodsuckers are flying after you

Yesterday, Daisy Mae and Biff were grooving down the street
And just like in a movie, her hands became her feet
Her belly button was her mouth
Which meant she tasted what she'd speak
But the funny thing is what happened to her nose
It grew until it reached all of her toes
Now, when people say her feet smell, they mean her nose
And curtains laced with diamonds, dear, for you
And kingdom's Christian sailors (soldiers), dear, for you
And melting ice cap mountains, dear, for you
And knights in flaming silver robes for you
And bats, that with a kiss turn prince for you
Swoop, swoop, oh, baby, rock, rock
Swoop, swoop, rock, rock
Swoop, swoop, rock, rock

Sara without an H > this collection: Fragments of Hell > Hypocrisy > Friendship > Possessiveness > Reputation > Status > Cowardice > Gangsta > Narcissists > Wrong > Judgement >> next collection: Peanu(t)s