Carlo Parcelli


I          II          III          IV          V

V:  Pazzo Obatzo Ubatz

A royal cock up from the jump, ain’t it.
          What not betoke any thieves bones as this Jesu,
And be done a it?
                    Clearly, wisdom be not imposed upon a procurator
As freely as folly upon the people.
          Who knows bone a bone 
                    What not got its own rut a teef marks in it
Or ta scratch out the feast days a the Julian
           Where meat meet the famished rake a the poor
And their tongues go silent at the portal
                     Wif they’s rage clotted wif fat.
Bit ghoulish start ta finish a that
           What wif dem wee ones murdered ta spite this Jesu.
And blood in the goblet even if he be just havin’ it on.
           And doubt a bit a good bread ta say 
                   It be meat. 
And plunder a corpse a its spoils for rumor.
                   This give a bit a offense ta most folks
What care a bit a doubt in the dispatch a dice.
          And what a count be this but another Mithra
Or Horus or Attis or Dionigi.
          And don’t the dagos crucify us like we’s laundry.
                  What by chance or solstice be born a the same day
That life here and now be eternal sought by all us wankers.
           Here I be but a knob what waits the Roman guard
But I know the twin and Abbanes from out the Kush
      And he, Thoma, be that prowl past Fish Gate 
                  Ta ramp hysteria in the gillies,
Yeshua hard dead and made off some wadi ta rot
           Reasonable men suppose.
But people be amok 
                    A these hairy tussocks fetid wif guinea seed
That their sisters breed masihs a dago archers
            What leave lions dyin’ in the sand,
As well as another man’s cod in his bed
             Ta spurt sons wif two tongues
And no patrimony but earned rebellion.   
      And that be Barabbas what sing
“I come not ta peace, but wif me sword”
              And be not pretty by it
Like this pansy Yeshua
              What be in league a the Gamalas .
 Jude ta be offed and keep the brethren cranky,
       What epiphany Magadala thumbs down her Jesu
It bein’ time for a bold move ta top the till
              Til it be too cumby for a pikey haul about
       And a lady need furnishins and a roof, don’t she now.

But it be a cock up  
        What abate many a pensioner from the rolls
                     At the nice end of a pugio
Or cinched face down upon the gibbet.
        This bloody business a masihs,
What stand not an army but the people’s will
              And wonder favor a that.
What  make allies a them what would see them subject.
        And knowin’ as whole generations be a engine a rebellion.
And pay themselves out as such
               That this dago curse be removed. 



About the Author:
Carlo Parcelli has spent 40 years studying the epistemology of science
and technology and their effect on the natural world and naturally
evolved cultures. He specifically challenged the efficacy of progressive
systems of quantification, mathematization, mathematical discretion,
formal systems game theory etc., since these elements form the core of
the way western man can think about his world and all the limitations
such an epistemology implies. Parcelli has written 14 book length poems
which embed numerous sources and elaborate in great detail his
insights. He has also written numerous articles. Now, he is content to
watch the Earth scribble its own Apocalyptic Epic in real time.
Having failed to reach virtually anyone concerning his epistemological
concerns and seeing the natural world taking its future into its
own hands via global climate change, Parcelli embarked on a retelling
of the Synoptic Gospels. The Canaanite Gospel is comprised of 88
monologues, primarily eyewitness accounts known as Divine Depositions,
recorded by the Apostle Simon Kananaios or Simon the Zealot
in the First Century A.D.
He currently spends his evenings busking local bars in the Washington
DC area dressed as Simon Kananaios, performing his monologues
in exchange for drinks and the occasional monetary remuneration.
Visit carloparcelli.com for performance videos and more.

The 88 published monologues:

order through
Amazon or Country Valley Press

"So's the boys at the pub ask,
if he's resurrect, where the fuck is he?"


Poet Vaudevillian
Carlo Parcelli
The Canaanite Gospel
A Meditation on Empire
88 Monologues

Country Valley Press / FlashPoint
ISBN 978-0-9820196-2-7      $11.95

Earlier versions of the monologues can be found in:
  FlashPoint Spring 2010 / Issue 13

For information about live performances of The Canaanite Gospel
see our Live Performance online flyer.