Big Tent Poetry (7/30/10) — The Lizard King
The idea this week is to write a poem about an icon, hero or personality and what might be different. Jim Morrison is dead. I wondered what he might be about were that not the case.
I leave it to you to determine how successful I was with this weeks prompt or not. In the meantime, you can see how others responded by looking here.
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The Lizard King
Would you still be peddling the leather clad
Dionysus shaman act, with hairline in retreat
Your shirt still unbuttoned down to there?
Would your sulky eyes be tightened up
from trips to the plastic supplier? Would
you still wake up in the morning and
Get yourself a beer or love her madly?
Even though you walked on out that
door, eternally young?
Would you still be selling yourself as a guide
through the labyrinth or still dreaming of killing
your father?
Are you now living in the company of
gods or are you just gone?
Would you still be daring infinity to answer
your knock or drowning in the new wine
you were searching for?
Where are you now? Where were you
then? No one here gets out alive
is a book; though some thought you did.
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3WW CXCIX — Free Write (No Relation to Willie)
3WW rolls around yet again, like weekly clockwork and I took one look at the words and realized that they didn’t fit into poetic thoughts I be thinking, so I elected to Free Write instead. I had no idea where this was going to go once I started and was pretty surprised with what I ended up with. I woke up in the middle of the night last week with horrible leg cramps, but the rest is not autobiographical. Much…
Thom G’s words this week are: abuse, cramp and hatred. They conspire to bring forth dark, sordid thoughts…and they did. Thanks, Thom!
—–
Michael awoke with a leg cramp screaming in his left calf. He tried to make his foot move, but the pull of the muscles was too strong. He had no choice but to get out of bed, putting his full weight on the left leg and forcing his muscles to relax. That short flood of relief was quickly followed by a shot of anger at his leg muscles for betraying him, waking him up in the middle of the night when he had to get up earlier than usual the following morning (just a few short hours away, actually) and he needed all the sleep he could muster.
Since he was awake, Michael went to the bathroom to get a drink of water and take a leak. Between his bladder and his calf muscles, Michael felt his body conspired against him. He hated it when it seemed to happen. Even though rational thought told him that his feelings were unreasonable, he couldn’t help feeling the way he did.
He slumped back into bed, dreading the abuse that his dreams would bring him, praying that he didn’t dream at all. His smoldering hatred had slowly been eating him alive since Alison left him, but he seemed to be the only one who didn’t realize it. It ate him like a cancer because Alison no longer gave a damn what Michael thought or felt. Hatred with no place to go only afflicted the hater, not the hated.
Maybe one day Michael would get it, but not this night. No sooner had Michael returned to sleep than his left calf cramped up and he was once again vaulting out of bed trying to stretch out muscles conspiring against him.
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3WW CXCVIII — Tender Mercy #26
Slogging along, another in the Tender Mercy series of poems that hang together only because I believe they do…
This one is inspired in part by 3WW and you can play too by visiting the site!
Tender Mercy #26
Overture to a
Sixty Second Interval,
Contemplation mounts,
A Spring collection
Flutters in the
Disinterested breeze.
An isolated victim
Live at the Marquee,
Primary colours
Shading the lies
Nostalgia for what
Was never mine.
Bait and switch memories
Corrupted database
The Soul’s Bane;
When the old stories
fade from view
An Illogical jump step
In the dance of legislation,
Sorrow for a sparrow.
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3WW CXCVI — Damn Cardinals
No poetry this week, nor fiction, just a rant about Baseball…sorry in advance for the blatant sports theme.…but this is what was on my mind this morning and the 3WW words were perfect.…
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TWELVE to NINE! The Cardinals gacked up NINE RUNS in the bottom of the NINTH INNING with TWO OUTS!
Thus far, the Cardinals have been the bane of my baseball enjoying experience. If you play hard and lose, fine. If you go through games playing listless, tepid, close to uninspired baseball, well I am disgusted. These are not the hallmarks of a Tony LaRussa lead team, that much is certain.
I have elected to vote with my wallet. I had wanted to go to another game in St. Louis this summer as I enjoy going to the ballgame, but I don’t want to pay good money to watch bored players sleep walk through games. I’d rather pay my money to go watch the Kansas City Royals at least try, even if it is likely they will not win the game. At least they put some effort forth…
Tender Mercy #21
Let’s go throw all the songs we know
into the sea and
blend them with just out of reach
ocean rhythms and
time breaks singing in a resurgent
hiss and lap ebb
and flow as the songs we know
sliding off the sandbar
slowly float out to sea only to
return with the tides
—
I read the first line of this on a Last.fm page, and was inspired…Who knew it was a song by The Cure? This is another in the Tender Mercy series which is growing sort of like poetic kudzu.
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Last.fm Recently Placed
