Concave Buddha By Thomas L. Vaultonburg

My first book was written and published when I was a teenager. It was titled Concave Buddha and Other Public Disservice Announcements, and published by The Press of the Third Mind in Chicago by a man I have met only once in my lifetime, Bradley Lastname. I have never had the gumption to digitize the poems so only a few appear anywhere on the internet. Tonight before I drink my last cup of tea I’d like to type out a few of those poems here. I haven’t opened the book in a long time, so I’m not quite sure what is really in there.

The Third Gender

The third gender arose from the

Semen of the mastubatorial sermon.

At first were used primarily

As slave labor, but other uses

Became apparent when their

Reversible genitalia were discovered. 



I remember waking up during a full
moon and telling my mother I was a
werewolf and she had to drive a stake
through my heart. I was four at the time.


The Apparatus

The first thing you must do
If you wish to conform
To the compact standards
Of the Apparatus
Is dispose of your arms.
But don’t despair,
For the psycho-optic sensors
Of the 2037 model
Of the 7th restructured Apparatus
Allow these hydraulic pincers
An amazingly intricate
Range of motion:
Crush bowling balls,
Fetch far-flung objects,
Scratch sensitive areas,
In effect rendering the human hand
The chromium molybdenum
Exoskeleton of this year’s Apparatus
Is rust proof, decay proof,
Lightweight, and offers
Partial resistance to chemical weapons,
Genetic plagues,
And absolute immunity
To sexually transmitted diseases.
Revolutionary new research
At our Nippon factory
Involving petroleum-chromosome splicing
Gives you the latest option
Of replacing antiquated and inferior
Organic systems such as
The lungs, heart, and kidneys,
Spleen optional, of course.
And when you experience
The life-like sensations
Of the Ganglionic TM nerve clusters
And test think the TNQ-1001
Psychedelic modulated graphic
Read out screen,
Surely you’re going to want
To change your mind.


Career Woman

She whispers to me
With the salt-laced voice
Of a baby seal
About to be clubbed to death.
I tell her Antarctica
Is no place for a
Career woman.
She tells me
This isn’t Antarctica,
It’s San Francisco.
I call the building super
And ask him to fix the heater.



The great soul grinder of beyond
Opens and closes,
Vacillating like the decayed cunt
Of a newborn woman witch child
Oozing her Mercrochrome vaginal
Emissions into a universe
Starving for cum,
And having thusly fulfilled her
Contractual obligations,
Retires to a summer home
In Skinekdicky, NY,
But when perpetual winter
Is declared,
She comes out of retirement
For one last Title bout with ignorance,
Is TKO’d in the fourth round,
And is finally stabbed to death
With a huge black dildo
In a place like Other.

concave buddha

I didn’t realize what an effort in time, energy, and money it was in 1990 for someone to publish another person’s book. I was young and arrogant. This was before digital presses, so so someone actually had to typeset all these poems, poems I find so crummy all these years later I can barely stand to waste my time committing them to digital files. Then it was all sent to an offset printer who had to set it up, and print them out. A lot of hands spent time making this book. I remember this experience all these years later, and it is part of the reason why I now publish the work of other writers. The experience is much easier now, it still requires an effort and an expenditure to make sure it is dome right. There are no copies of Concave Buddha left for sale. I have six or seven, but those are for the kids if they ever show an interest later in life.



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