LA MARSEILLAISE CHICKEN

Marseillaise Chicken ______________________________

La Marseillaise, Detail from the Eastern Face
of the Arc De Triomphe, 1832-35, and the rather
lewd facade at the Baton Rouge Louisiana State Capitol
(1931-1934) by Francois Rude ________________________________________________________

Francois Rude’s (1784-1855) exquisitely homoerotic “La Marseillaise” sculpture on the Arc of Triumph dedicated to the French Revolution—also artfully gracing the front façade of Huey P. Long’s magnificent modern sweeping Art Deco /Streamlined Moderne skyscraper capitol looming over Baton Rouge and the Mississippi River. There I stood, amazed & awed by the naked revolutionary youth, flaunting his male beauty for all to behold. To behold & lust after as I did, there in front of that magnificent Depression Era steel & limestone phallic monstrosity typifying Huey P. Long’s egomaniacal size-queen Louisiana dreams—gunned down as a Senator deep in his own capitol’s magnificent bowels, sullen bullet holes still lurking in the sad walls, his body buried in the garden grounds, an infamous tricking place for shocking midnight gay rendezvous nightlife, how fitting & proper for a Louisiana blowjob temple, sucking off a trick, as I gazed up at the highlighted monument to the Kingfish’s glorious dreams & dashed Camelot aspirations. I was there groveling in the darkness, worshipping what I worshipped only so well, an olive-skinned Creole youth I’d picked up in the bus station that tragic night in November 1963—when all I could think about was failed revolutions, grandiose Camelot dreams done in by too much blind ambition & great expectations, something I didn’t suffer from down there on my humble knees, the kid manhandling my humble attempts at polite oral intercourse, treating my mouth like some gauche Popeye or rude Alabama Red fucking whore Temple Drake silly, way up there in Memphis in skanky Miss Rebus’ dingy old whorehouse, no doubt about it, I suffered no disillusionment or fatal romantic denouement, preferring instead to gag & swallow the runny awful-tasting juice from the suddenly severed crawdaddy’s engorged head, milking with my pouty lips the rough-trade Creole kid’s huge veiny cock— down to the last whimpering jizzy jerk, knowing all too well the excruciating tragedy of so many Creole-Camelot cumly French revolutions…later gazing up at Francois Rude’s rude French chicken up on the capitol’s classy façade entrance, glowing in the moonlight, as I reached up & touched it, with my still quivering spermy tongue, the idol of the Arc of Triumph, the cold stony statue’s secret endowment, the tragic treasure & the reason for my decadent downfall ever since…