The Kingdom of Crazy
Every time I hear
that song*,
I always think of you
because you are beautiful,
but mostly because of how much you
hated
that
song.
Kingdom Friday nights
of those coming-to-an-age years,
the laser lights
flashing and lashing out,
in a frenetic frenzy, and
that
song
would inescapably be played.
A ticking bomb
you couldn't really hear,
but you knew it was there;
You never knew when those pulsing drum beats-
that you could feel driving deep within your soul,
because it was so loud and because it was a big song-
You just never knew when it would happen.
In the blazing hot, ciggie stench,
(It's cool, I feel alive),
There, behind the outro,
"I'm not an addict..."
That distinct drumbeat of
that
song,
which maybe would have just been
a terrific time to go for a wee,
get another beer,
or get your best friend another beer.
Just sayin'.
But that's not what you did.
You got in a fine snit.
You stamped your feet down firmly in place,
crossed your arms against your chest,
and put on a huge scowl.
And all the while,
the rest of us Doc-stomped and moshed into you
and your statuesque stand against
that
song.
And, just as the smoke
began to come out your ears in a steady stream;
As it mixed with the ghostly hypnotic sounds
Deep In the kingdom of crazy,
The next magical memory
would play and the misery became a dream;
The song long forgotten as we spun, spun Sugar!
(*That song = Marilyn Manson's, "The Beautiful People")
Every time I hear
that song*,
I always think of you
because you are beautiful,
but mostly because of how much you
hated
that
song.
Kingdom Friday nights
of those coming-to-an-age years,
the laser lights
flashing and lashing out,
in a frenetic frenzy, and
that
song
would inescapably be played.
A ticking bomb
you couldn't really hear,
but you knew it was there;
You never knew when those pulsing drum beats-
that you could feel driving deep within your soul,
because it was so loud and because it was a big song-
You just never knew when it would happen.
In the blazing hot, ciggie stench,
(It's cool, I feel alive),
There, behind the outro,
"I'm not an addict..."
That distinct drumbeat of
that
song,
which maybe would have just been
a terrific time to go for a wee,
get another beer,
or get your best friend another beer.
Just sayin'.
But that's not what you did.
You got in a fine snit.
You stamped your feet down firmly in place,
crossed your arms against your chest,
and put on a huge scowl.
And all the while,
the rest of us Doc-stomped and moshed into you
and your statuesque stand against
that
song.
And, just as the smoke
began to come out your ears in a steady stream;
As it mixed with the ghostly hypnotic sounds
Deep In the kingdom of crazy,
The next magical memory
would play and the misery became a dream;
The song long forgotten as we spun, spun Sugar!
(*That song = Marilyn Manson's, "The Beautiful People")
And here is our Prompt for Week 2, which I'm posting in my Week 3 workshop... Hello, My Name Is…: Title as Poem Catalyst.
Think up a poem title structured as such: The [Concrete Noun] of [Abstract Noun]. So, like: “The Cheese of Time” or like “The Monkey of Holiness” or maybe “The Steak Knife of Despair.” If a title like that doesn’t get you going… Then, write a poem based on that title.
I sort of combined it with this prompt... Make A Still Life: Without All of That Messy Paint.
In the tradition of the Imagists, write a poem that describes an object. Be as literal and vivid as possible. Pick up the object (if you can), look at it from as many different angles as possible. Consider its color, its weight, its texture, its material and write up a picture!
Think up a poem title structured as such: The [Concrete Noun] of [Abstract Noun]. So, like: “The Cheese of Time” or like “The Monkey of Holiness” or maybe “The Steak Knife of Despair.” If a title like that doesn’t get you going… Then, write a poem based on that title.
I sort of combined it with this prompt... Make A Still Life: Without All of That Messy Paint.
In the tradition of the Imagists, write a poem that describes an object. Be as literal and vivid as possible. Pick up the object (if you can), look at it from as many different angles as possible. Consider its color, its weight, its texture, its material and write up a picture!
The lyrics are somewhat explicit as you would expect in such a harsh song... (More info about the song, here.) Or, check out the choir version, or this dance...
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