Epic Poem 17-18

Poems 1-11 and Poems 12-16

17

“Where does the map say to go?” asked Anna in fear,

“Through danger and mayhem, past door to door salesmen?

Don’t ‘a fortiori,’ speak English is that clear?”

“Then,” said Mary, “can I at least say an Amen?”

“‘Tis prayers we need? Do we enter a lion’s den?”

“No,” said Mary, ” just follow the yellow brick road.”

Shall we now ask for the prayers of some clergyman

Before we leave this strange and wonderful abode?”

“Aquinas just came here for this one episode,”

Said Mary, “We can ask him for a prayer I think,

He is a nice person to whom you can unload

Your frantic woes, ‘specially when you’re on the brink”

Anna thought hard and then felt like her mind would sink

A Catholic girl who played with the paranormal

She now wondered what in heavens would Jesus think?

Would He think that she was so very abnormal?

Brink of sanity? Anna asked, with a chortle

“I think that I’m still quite far from around the bend

Let us see the saint then,” she said, her voice formal

Let us see what Aquinas is able to mend”

They went down the road. They walked to the very end

Where a little church stood amongst the greenery

Anna sighed, “‘Tis just a mass I have to attend

Or do I need buy an indulgence plenary?

“There’s no need for that, just enjoy the scenery,”

Said a man walking out the church’s wooden door

“It’s so nice here, far from any machinery,”

Said Mary, who’s eyes were lighting up more and more

Are you Saint Aquinas to whom I must implore?”

Asked Anna, “Must i now make my own confession?

Bless me father for I have sinned, last one a score

Or less years ago, is there hope for redemption?

Always, my dear” said the saint, “now I’ve a question,

I heard you’re going to China Town for some hints

You will pass through many lands filled with aggression

Your journey will leave more than a billion footprints

What will you girls do when your legs are put in splints

Broken from the journey’s wear, tear, misadventures?

What will you do when foes give chase while you can’t sprint?

Sing Sun’s Canticle then, it’s a real thirst quencher

That’s the only help I can give you, now and here

And of course a blessing, I pray for your success

You will have trouble, I’m sure, Just don’t disappear

Into despair, stay true to your hearts, don’t distress”

And with that, Anna’s many worries were much less

Mary grinned, “Amen,” and pulled her along the path

“We follow the yellow brick road to the address

Let’s leave, or do you want to first go take a bath?”


18

This strange poet will now leave the girls to their bath

–Fade out– –out!–quick! before one Artemis attacks

It is not easy to escape the goddess’ wrath

The scene changes now and this poet can relax

Scene: a winter wonderland, the snow filled with tracks

Conifer trees are laid out sparsely through the land

Three men and a black bird are munching on some snacks

Pumpkin seeds that Peter supplied the merry band

“Balls to this, and cocks to that, these seeds are so bland”

Cries the mocking bird with a voice filled with much pain

“I’m no foodie but I really must make my stand

Munching on these seeds is way way too inhumane”

Viscount James cries out, “I’ve had enough of this strain

A bird that cusses and my gentle lady gone

Please send me back to London in a choo choo train

I’ve got a new cravate that I really must don”

“Be still and silent,” says Thor, “it is nearly dawn

Leave me be and I can soon find our bearings

Seeing grown men whine is a new phenomenon

Grow some balls, you little man, and be more daring”

Thor walks on, he knows he can be overbearing

Whether they’ll come with him or not he doesn’t know

Even he admits, this group is a strange pairing

Come see Peterson, this is the real Northland snow

These flakes are proportioned in golden ratios

We are close to Asgard, so close to my homeland

Don’t you think we should now go there and say hello?

I can tell you how beautiful it is firsthand

There is Valhalla, where fighting is in demand

You will do very well there Peter Peterson

There are other great halls, please don’t misunderstand

I just think that this is the one with the most fun”

Peter looks around, “More pumpkin seeds anyone?

Valhalla sounds nice mister, don’t spoil the surprise

But right now I’d rather be eating a hot bun

Is there a restaurant here you can recognize?”

All of them turn to gaze at the sight of sunrise

“Follow me,“Thor says gruffly, “and you’ll eat boar meat

Or stay here without me and go meet your demise

When we reach Asgard,” he smiles, “ it will be my treat”

They walk for days. James, Bird and Peter feel so beat

Just subsiding on snow, sheer will, and pumpkin seed

Then when the three look at each other in defeat

Someone descends on them, jumping from flying steed

Valkyrie,” laughs Thor, “a splendid sight indeed

We’re so very happy to see you over here

May I ask? You wouldn’t happen to have any feed?

And I’m afraid your horse we’ll have to commandeer”

The Valkyrie laughs and throws them meat of deer

Jerky so vile that they would normally despise

But now they’ve grown wiser, their conditions severe

They eat, and it turns out a delicious surprise

“You can’t ride my horse,” she thinks of a compromise

“Make a sleigh and I’ll pull you to the Rainbow Bridge”

My horse is in need of excessive exercise

Be patient and I’ll soon get you out of this fridge”

They make a contraption that looks like a drawbridge

They fasten it securely on the white winged horse

The horse then pulls them rapidly over the ridge

The horse pants and runs in air with very great force

They soon appear before the Rainbow Bridge of course

Before boredom turns this poet’s eyes from the scene

They’ve finally arrived at the great god Thor’s source

Thor grins and grins, looking so happy it’s obscene

The lamb, safely tucked away in Pete’s arms, maas in disdain

(It’s hard to format when there are more than 3 people talking. I am rebounding hard! Tears and a headache… Sorry if I don’t respond immediately)

Epic Fantasy Poem (12-16)

You can read parts 1-11 here. Epic Comic Fantasy 1-11

12

The intrepid heroes, after a quick siesta,

And fiesta, travel to old barn McDonald’s

No time to marvel at the farm’s flora/ fauna

They use Duff’s spare keys, to whom McDonald farm willed

As his rightful heir and successor. Duff don’t care

About the farm though. The tavern’s his rightful lair.

“All right,” Thor says, reading the sacred chalk drawn glyphs

On the inside of the barnhouse walls. Mockingbird burps.

“Silence,” Thor thunders, “can’t make a single mistake.”

“Yeah, quiet,” says the Bird, “or you’ll get the damn herps!”

“First the sacrifice,” Thor says, hidden pockets provide

He magicks a fire, exactly ten square feet wide

“Oranges and lemons for Saint Clement’s” he chants,

“Five farthings for the bells of Saint Martin’s,” he rants.

Eh?” says Mocking Bird in glee,“did you say farting?

If I could do that, I’d make the sea a parting!”

“Demon bird,” Thor hisses, “just be quiet and still

Or I’ll roast you with parsley, sage, rosemary and dill!

Thor throws in the fire his various offerings

While Mocking Bird mutters his vulgar proferrings

Thor dances around the fire, “ringa ringa Rosie,”

He then falls down and begins the final sacred chant

Thunder roars with his splendid syllables, “Ee Ai Ee Ai…”

Mocking Bird completes the magical ritual, “Uh Oh!”


13

The Yggdrasil is summoned! Its branches swallow

The adventurers like a matador’s ‘Toro’.

Their destination reset by the bird’s outburst

They disembark far away from Valhalla! “Curst

Curst curst curst demon bird!” growls Thor, spitting out sand,

Look where you’ve brought us, this vile and deserted land.

(When we reach there, Sæhrímnir’s food you’ll share)”

From this scene let us move to one quite contrary

And witness the happenings of Anna and Mary!

—-fade out—

—-fade in —

Scene: A colourful Parthenon, surrounded by

Arguing philosophers and yellow brick roads

Beautiful princesses and existential toads

Dueling dualists and material reductionists

Platonic caves filled with luminosity inherent

By stony induction. “Welcome to Utopia!”

Mary says to a newly arrived Anna.


14

Anna recovers quickly, though her head hurts bad

From eager Mary’s incessant profound chatter,

Her nurse’s bedside manner, makes Anna real mad
Anna cries, “Stop, just stop! Can’t bear this mind batter,

Weltanschauung, sine qua non, sensu strictos and propaedeutics, prima facie and otiose percipi!!!
If you’re not going to read me the Three Musketeers

Then let’s go out, I need to get off my sore derriere!”

Mary acquiesces, with one final “a fortiori!”

They set off to see Shorty, the cowboy philosopher

Rival of Demosthenes, the Demagogue whisperer

Shorty knows everything about…oh, everything,”

Mary explains, “He’ll tell you why we’re here better.”

They pass by Merlin, a greybeard on a young face
Who lifts his pointy hat, with grace, finesse and zing
They nod their heads to his very polite, how do you do?
Anna is quite fascinated, watching the passersby
She stops to watch Plato argue with Thoreau,
She could watch this forever she thinks… Until
She sees nude Nietzsche playing the didgeridoo


15

Cowboy philosopher Shorty
Greets them with a drawled, ‘how-de-do’
Mary responds quite politely
But Anna is still haunted by Nietzsche’s didgeridoo

“So you want to know whereabouts here is,”
Shorty says, after tea and lemon tarts
“Not a simple question, worth a treatise,
But I’ll put it simply, lest I stop your hearts
We first thought it was heaven, when we arrived
Melange of different ages and amazing minds
But then Nietzsche came, and so we then divined
Menage neither heaven nor hell, a space outside time
Where the laws of the universe sometimes go on break
And we’ve even got an overly pink candy floss lake”

“So, why are we here?” asks Mary.
“Profound question,”Shorty replies,
“The answer could be twenty three
Sent here for a purpose, you were
Just what it is, I’m not sure
Perhaps you’ll find an answer in China Town.”


16

“China Town!” said Anna, “that’s near my house

Back to Liverpool, My own home sweet home

Where nude men don’t keep staring at my blouse”

Ignore the naked man and his syndrome,”

Said Shorty the fastest mind in the West

“His mind is taken up by too much gloam

He stares at people, puts them to the test

Tries to save all from the abyssal dome

Nietzsche’s brilliant but his mind’s now a mess

Leave him be and enjoy the scenery

Remember your goal and do not digress

China Town’s not in Liverpool deary”

Mary then said, “tell us where we must go

Give us a map before you grow weary”

Shorty marks a path for them to follow

On a map of space-time he gives to them

“This will avoid places of Death’s shadow

Where I lost my true love, my darling Clem”

They take the map and then say their goodbyes

They bid farewell to Utopian skies


Poems 17-18

(I was surprised that readers made it through to the end of the previous installment. I think I’ll post these in shorter bits from now on, with hyperlinks to help navigate the entire thing. Writing this seems to help with my depression. It keeps me busy, and makes me laugh. Not that I’m depressed right now. I’m still feeling a little high, if a little anxious. I am still unsure whether to continue it past 32. The responses in the previous post have made me reconsider. I may actually see this one through to the end.

No disrespect meant to Nietzsche, but he did go a little crazy at the end, and there are no inhibitions in Utopia)

⚠️Long⚠️ Untitled Epic Comic Fantasy Poem 1-11

(This will be a test in patience for you, dear reader. I’ve written 32 sections so far, but didn’t want to push it, in case someone actually decided to read through it all 😇, so I’ve only posted 11, which is about 10% of the story. I think that the poem is quite funny. Let me know what you think in the comments, if you make it all the way down there)

1

One evening long ago, Mary and little lamb

both gazed at the sky, pondering meanings of life

Monotony, dullness, ennui suffused them:

Go to school, go back home, wash dishes, no drive

to learn. Her interests lay in philosophy

Nietzsche, Plato, Chesterton, wide variety

Of startling intellects… Not Aesop fabelry

that the teacher regaled students with endlessly

She wanted to run away to France and meet with

existentialists who would challenge all her wit

Oh, what is this? A portal appears… Mary’s gone

Peter is a young shepherd, fourteen years come morn

He celebrates his birthday with his flock, now dawn

Sheepy1, Sheepy2, and Ypeehs, the last name

An attempt at creativity he’s very proud (to) claim!

For thirteen years he gloried in war and battle

Like any other child his age. Epiphany

shines with this new dawn, leaving his high voice broken

“Females,” he croaks, “are not plague ridden monsters, nay,

Not abominations of Beelzebub, I reckon,

But rather attractive,” he opines to his flock.

Fond memories of Mary engulf the boy’s mind

He sees her far out on the prairie with little lamb

Fleece as white as snow. What to do? Perhaps talking

might help. Perhaps an ode to her beauty, he thinks

Oh Beautiful Creature

Goddess of all that you see

This offering of mine- a pitcher,

Can never be worthy of Thee.

He prepares a cup of milk to offer his love

He approaches, palms sweating, legs trembling, mind numb

“OH BOOTIFUL KEECHAAA,” he stammers, and then Mary’s gone!

The lamb ‘maa’s at him in disdain.


2

Do women just disappear come adolescence?

Peter wonders, cast into a pit of despondence

No wonder Mama tells Georgie off for flirting

Anguished he stands, from the black magic of his courting

Lancelot and Guinevere, Marian and Hood

No, something’s wrong here, something is misunderstood

An epic quest of chivalry, Peter sets out in search of Mary

The lamb bleats in disdain and follows.


3

Scene: A small room with mystical paraphernalia

Covering the wall. A woman sits at a table

Before a crystal ball. She’s decked out in regalia:

Multicolored shawl, turban tall, bejeweled and able:

Marvelous magical medium Madame Anna

Is ready this morning for her first ever reading.

Enter: James Hellington, Viscount of Whochester,

Cravate folded just right… She thinks he looks quite dashing!

“A powerful totem, I sense it in you,” she sings.

James looks pleased and nods his head, peering into crystal.

“Now we summon it,” her song is strong and it now brings

Extraordinary forces and winds mystical.

Then a burst of smoke and the sound of a shot pistol.

A man appears on the table, looking disgruntled

He yawns, then says, “I am Thor, why have you woken me?


4

Thor sighs. He then sits on the table cross-legged

He lights a pipe, cursing a reluctant match stick

James grows bold, ” wonder from what gutter you were dredged?

You’re clearly not bon ton, your hair is much too slick

Thor or More, begone whoever you are, crude brute!

No hat, no jacket, no shirt, not one how-de-do

Soar away, before my dueling pistol shoots truth

Vile interloper of a private session, you!”

Thor grins, “A duel with a pup? Sheesh kebab lunch.”

James grows red faced. He says,”I’ll drown you in the Thames!”

Pepper roasted turkey with apple cider punch.”

“Vulgar gourmand! My saber shall cut off your gems.”

“Fried chicken with cinnamon buns? A snack or brunch?”

“Vile cannibal! Take your crude mouth away! away!

Your vulgar discourse is making the lady faint.”


5

The demigod’s face oozes concern as he turns
“Gentle Lady, fear not. I do mean you no harm.”
Anna smiles and nods though her visage still crimson
“Truly,” Thor says, proffering her his big strong arm

But then he pauses, closing his eyes. “An alarm
I can hear, a shrill screaming of the Universe
The fabric is sundered near Old McDonald’s farm
Come, you two, you have been chosen as heroes! Yes?”

“No,” James politely demurs, “I’ve got duties here.
Tenants, and family, stock futures, Gretna Green
You see? I cannot go anywhere with you, Sir!
I have a sizable stake in South Sea Trading.
Quiet brat!” Thor says, as lightning wraps around him
“No!”
“Grilled rodent on a stick! Like it or not, we go!”


6

Thor channels magic and sighs, still sleepy and weak.
“Oh if only I hadn’t lost my Mjolnir.
Anna tut tuts and says, “you may not be at your peak
But I know just the thing. Please have a cuppa tea.”

Thor drinks the magical Earl Gray, and then goes (to) pee
All better,” he smiles, “it’s time for portal magic.”
“No,” says James, but too late… They’re drowned in an aether sea
“Muffin brat boy,” Thor grins, “stop being so tragic.”
He says to a squealing James attached to his knee

The magic has made Thor feel very lethargic
He’s transported them a thousand miles in space-time
A Peter battling a demon now seems cathartic
Is Thor hallucinating, or in that tea too much lime?


7

Armed with a sturdy wooden stick Peter marches

No black knight shall keep Peter from his Lady Love
Lamb and sheep follow, they don’t really give a shove

About his heroic quest, but there’s a demon
Following in their footsteps, so they don’t leave him.

The demon closes in. Peter brandishes his stick,
Demon says, “Hey, chill out. Relax! Don’t be a Dick!”

Peter says with fury, “What have you done with Mary?”
Demon brandishes claws, and screams, “Hate Rate Trait Mate. Savvy?”
This demon is incoherent and scary. Peter must flee.

Just then, a dazzling light and three people appear
A woman, a bearded Nord and a leg clinger

Fear not, brave Peter Peterson, ” the Nord proclaims
Ha ha! I was born to slay demons,” he acclaims,

“I shall smite him with Mjol…I mean… My bare fists”
He pounces on the demon, epic pugilist

His punch makes the demon creature disintegrate

(While the leg clinger fop does obfuscate)

“Thanks, I guess I did need some help,” mutters Peter
shame faced says, “and how do you know my name, kind Sir?”

Thor shrugs, “(no thanks necessary) Smiting HateRateTrait was just what I needed

A pick-me-up! And I knew your great great great grandfather

He and I shared many quests. He’s one mortal I heeded

You have his same noble nose, warts and all… As well as his rank odour.”

A dark winged mass emerges from the demon’s ashes, a black bird.
It speaks, “yeah, yeah, yeah… All very touching, you pieces of runny guanno,
But you idjits born of idjits could have gone easier on the punches you know?!!!”

Peter brandishes stick, as Thor raises fist. “Shapeshifter!” they shout together.


8

Shapeshifter?” The demon squeaks, “No, you damn feckt,
I’m a pretty mocking bird. Mock, mock and screw you!
That demon wraith ate me whole, that halitosed wretch!
And I got stuck in its throat! That freaking stink belch!!!”

“Can you understand its infernal dialect?’
Thor asks. Peter shakes his head, “Where’s Mary? Speak true.”

Bird cackles in wicked glee, “If you hate the rate
And really have to shake, then just castrate your mate!”

“Mad Fury,” Thor sighs, “the worst sort of punishment.
Definite warp in the space time continuum.
Once I finish this here magical annulment

Mary will appear and Fury bird disappear
Law of conservation of mass. So do not fear
Young Peter Peterson.”
Thor begins his magic
While the bird hurls unintelligent abuses.
Viscount James, adjusting cravate, looks so tragic
While Thor’s aether magic over the area diffuses.
Anna disappears. Thor scratches his head, “I think I miscalculated.”

“YEAH, NO SHIT,” says the Mocking Bird.


9

“A peculiar state of affairs,” Peter proffers.
“Downright kinky, you nit” the mocking Bird differs.
“We’re heroes, we’ll certainly fix it,” Thor posits,

We’ll go to Valhalla where Reality meets
And If needed, I’ll kick all demons off their seats
Indeed, don’t fear! Anna and Mary will be saved
So let us go now to McDuffie’s Tavern Hill
And get the keys to the gate of the Yggdrasil.”

Peter and Thor confidently stride forth, with swagger!
James and the lamb follow behind, staring daggers!
The Mocking bird cackles in glee, “Yo Mama…”


10

Tavern Hill, an hour’s walk laden with abuse

From a verbose trans-dimensional mocking Bird

The heroes enter. Their presence does now induce

Instant silence and appraisal from the innards

“Thor, you bastard,” a giant bearded Scott yells out,

“You still haven’t paid your tab, you bloody baw bag

Three centuries interest, a king’s ransom… You lout!”

Thor smiles wide, arms stretched out, “McDuffie lqngubak,

Let’s settle our dues with a drinking contest

All forgiven if I win, plus McDonald’s keys.

My tab closed and I will sponsor the village fest

If you win, McDuffie old friend, renowned qlfuss.”

McDuffie agrees. It’s been a while since he had

A worthy opponent.
The Mockingbird croons, “Mad!!!”

Mary’s little lamb, fleece as white as snow, agrees.

(baw bag: scrotum

lqngubak: fishbelly

qlfuss: drunkard)


11

The Scott and the Nord drink fine highland single malt

Cask after cask is taken from the tavern vault

Their burps contain pure spirit. Inflammable Belch!!!

Maid Nancy moves the lamps away. Clever Miss Welsh

Peter and James watch in dismay as Thor wavers

The mocking Bird inebriated in vapours!

James throws a pot of liquid at Thor’s reddened face

Thor roars, “Eel salad! Why you nincompoop disgrace?

You dare empty a chamber pot on my luster!”

James squeaks, “I thought it was water; pick-me-upster.”

McDuffie chortles, “drenched in piss! Just like old times”

Thor bristles, “Speak for yourself. Don’t bundle me with your crimes.”

McDuffie laughs as he falls off his chair…

and then dreams sweet dreams

The mocking Bird sings, cacophonous infusion

To McDuffie’s snores, “tankuberyuchyubigsimpltn.”


Parts 12-16

I’m a Screw Up

I’m always scared I’ll screw up
Starting from my morning cup
Too much sugar, too much milk
My mind’s rough cotton, not silk
It’s worse when I comment here
Or talk there, (my) head’s everywhere
And there’s just one constant: fear
No matter the time of year
Body language,  eye contact
Have to keep my smile intact
Self mocking jokes lost at sea
People see the weird in me
These things keep me up at night
It’s quite agonizing, right?
They say that I should care less
About how I am assessed
I know I’m far from perfect
I feel obliged to reflect
On each mistake made, and cringe
I often shiver and flinch
When I remember my day

Scared to be seen as someone I’m not
And also scared to be seen as someone with faults
These two fears contradict
Inner conflict… I do not know myself

So, how can I expect that of others?

(I have been commenting alot lately. I find it enjoyable, but the anxiety has started to set in. The high is wearing off, and I am rebounding. )

The Gig

Not my song, my people, or my culture
But this doesn’t stop me from listening to their number

I saw them live, mesmerized by their tunes
By the grit in their voices, by their exotic desert dunes
We are all humans, borders don’t make us…
Conflict, segregation, alienation, it’s all nuts!

(Time out 😔 What people! What culture! We are different but also the same. Differences coming from: Location, prosperity, history, these things aren’t important. It’s the soul… Music can show that! I am going off tangent. I will stop now. The poem isn’t over )

The lady behind me
Couldn’t see the stage
I asked if I should move
She said it was okay

I was in a trance
When I listened to the band
Ignoring everything around
I might have taken in a whiff
Of ganja, coming from somewhere
Tanmay and drugs do not mix well together (There were people smoking at the end of the hall)

I just anchored my senses to the stage
Lived in their beautiful music
For two hours straight
Heard the lady behind tell her friends
That the guy in front of her was weird


I did my best to disappear

When the concert was over

(This can’t go on my other blog. I have written about this band before, on that one. A completely different poem, but the same song. I will post it here, even though I’ve already posted two today.

That lady was the weird one… She poked my back, said I was too tall, and then said it was okay when I asked if she wanted me to move… Or is there something else to it that I did not understand? Who goes around telling strangers that they are too tall? And I’m not too tall! 😤 I admit that my agoraphobia may have made me a tad nervous, but it wasn’t so bad back then.

I messed up and had to edit the hell out of this. Today is a bad day for my writing. I wanted the first line to be like a snobby elitist, cultural supremacist type of thing, and the second one to overturn that attitude through the power of music. I did not pull that off

Honestly, I’m a little confused by this topic. I think it’s more about respecting differences, accommodating them, in such a way that the differences become a part of one wholeness. It is hard to explain… Like putting various different spices together to get that one taste, a collage, I cannot think of any other examples at the moment… I believe that things like music can do that, by showing us both our differences as well as our universality at the same time, and this song did that for me. )

An Evening in Paris

On this week’s edition of the W3 challenge, Melissa Lemay has asked us to Choose one of two paintings (shown on the challenge page) and construct a poem of any form, using the artwork as inspiration and incorporating the colors shown. I chose The Big Wheel, by Marc Chagall

My incorporation of the colours was not subtle enough. The sun really looks like a clock, seen through a Ferris wheel. I can’t make out what the green is. Bon apetit.

There’s a wheel in the sky
Bright yellow, to my eye
Tick tock, tick tock
Goes a clock
In time to that yellow guy

The big Ferris Wheel
Tried to make a meal
Of the dying light
But his stomach wasn’t right
And made a loud squeal

Blue walls and a black tower
Pari starts its happy hour
Champagne, chardonnay, sauvignon blanc
La Lumiere de tes beaux yeaux! says a besotted Frank
As he gives ‘la belle dame’ a red flower

Place du this, place du ca
Everyone is going ha ha ha
Breathing in fumes of green and white
What’s with that? That’s not quite right
The girls from London go, La!

(I do not know how to put accent marks… Pardon my French ☺️🙏

That sentence is supposed to be la lumiere de tes beaux yeaux me penetrez jusqu’au coeur.

The brightness of your eyes penetrates my heart… I think. It might have been a poem I read somewhere. I have forgotten my school French)

I Visit the Lady in the Depths

Where are you?
I shout
Loud!
For
The Lady of the Depths
“I am not at your beck and call”
I hear her voice
It’s not soft
And quite clear
But I don’t know where
It’s coming from
I thought that
We had become one
Some kind of self actualization
In Progress
1%…2%…3%

Prepare for descent
It is time
I visited
The Lady in her home
Since
She won’t pick up her phone

“Who dares come?
Fee fi fo fum”
I hear her joke
While I soak
In my inner being
(Where meaning
Is a fun treasure hunt
After I jump off my punt
And dive down, deep below)
While boats merrily row, row, row
On the Lady’s ceiling
Where the yatchs go sailing
While birds swoop down
A showdown between realms
When the dolphins jump out
Along with some trout

The ocean sky
Meets the ocean depths
And The Between:
A contested border
In a joyful game
Between creatures

“Fee fi fo fum”
Her echo
Draws me out of my reverie
Shall I compare thee
I begin to say
To smooth the way
To cover up
To disguise
My momentary distraction
There is no reaction
So I do not continue the sonnet
I’ve forgotten most of it anyway
Hey
I say
“Hey”
And just like that
The distance closes
The welcome mat is out
And a bouquet of roses

I do however say
A Hail Mary
Out of habit
I never quite know
What’s going to happen next
When I’m with her

An Epic Collaboration

I did a collaboration piece with the ever amazing Lesley Scoble (linked above). What resulted was an Epic Poem Of Courage, Plastic Monsters and Truancy!!! (battle roar). This is more than just a poem, thanks to Lesley’s efforts. It has some beautiful artwork and a lot of other fun surprises that I won’t spoil for you. Check it out, peeps!

Pinpricks of Light in Infinite Darkness

Skip down half a page for the poem.

‘If you are an old reader, you have probably seen me ruminating on the name of my blog, ‘Slipstream Swimming.’ I have not figured out what it means yet. There seems to be an entity called ‘The Lady of the Depths’ who shows up frequently in my poetry. She probably has something to do with the depths of the ocean… maybe. The ocean probably represents the universe which cannot be seen or sensed by us (me?) just yet. She could be my guide to that place. Or she might just be a figment of my imagination I conjured up as a psychological defense mechanism.

Anyway, I was wondering when the meaning of the ocean changed for me. It might go back a long time, but I found this poem from 2018, which helps explain a few things. Maybe my blog is about shining a tiny light in infinite darkness? It’s never going to light up the place, but I’m trying… I did not mean to post anything else today, since I overwhelmed your Reader’s feed yesterday, but you must know by now how impatient I am. I don’t feel comfortable if I don’t post something I’ve written as quickly as I can. I won’t apologize, but I will ask for your understanding. This writing mania isn’t going to last long. This was all triggered by my music, which I’m starting to get over now. (Thought I didn’t exactly write this one now, the sentiment is the same… Once I have it in my head, I have to post)

Without further ado… The poem!

Chaotic, wild, primordial space, undefined
Discordant, veiled, illogical face, unrefined

I could make this poem take a rhetoric spin
Appeal to your emotion rather than reason

A ship on the ocean, battling a fierce storm
Sailors, anxious to live, working, praying for calm
Men, delirious from the hard journey of strife
Hoping for landfall and a happy retired life

A crafted narrative, good and bad, life and death
Chaos and order, opposing dualities
Slim chance for a good outcome, just a little wet
Or a watery grave, human feed for the Sea

It makes good imagery, but serves little purpose
Since I seek to discover its inner nature
So I’d rather speak about a torch called Logos
An unknown space: Apeiron, and bounded Peira:
Lit bay within our control, the Understood
(Perhaps even mankind’s collective pool of Truth?)

As the light increases so do the boundaries
Chaos turns to Order, part of the Bay of Truth
But Apeiron is infinite, that vast ocean of darkness
This journey cannot end until Time loses its lastingness

(I have revived my old blog. I’m only going to post weird stuff there. Also, I want to spread the load, if I ever feel the need to. I wanted to share this particular poem here. I should also mention that this is Heraclitus’ Logos, not John’s Logos…

I’m going to add a True Detective quote even though it doesn’t go that well, since my poem isn’t a versus thing. They are talking about the night sky)

Rust: “I tell you Marty I been up in that room looking out those windows every night here just thinking, it’s just one story. The oldest.”

Marty: “What’s that?”

Rust: “Light versus dark.”

Marty: “Well, I know we ain’t in Alaska, but it appears to me that the dark has a lot more territory.”

Rust: “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

Rust: “You’re looking at it wrong, the sky thing.”

Marty: “How’s that?”

Rust: “Well, once there was only dark. You ask me, the light’s winning.”

Outside my Window (Free Verse)

A sudden storm
Joy found in the cool breeze
Forgotten,  past hours of sweat
Wet t-shirt, as I gaze out from my balcony
Droplets carried by the wind, en masse
Her cold embrace, I know she loves me
I look out the window once I’m dry
The fly mesh, like the pores of my skin
I spend far too much time sitting there
Fairy lights in the distance
Blurred by the fall of rain
A tree towers over everything
In the background
Life slows to a trickle
Outside my prison grill
The crack of thunder
I rattle my chains
Rumble!
Clink
Rumble!

(My agoraphobia is getting better. I went out for lunch with family the other day. It was nice. This is the actual view from my living room window, a few hours ago. I don’t know why the neighbours, three houses down, have those fairy lights on their house. Probably a wedding…