OK Scottie;
THE EPIC NARRATIVE
A whimsy musing or fleeting thought
in such a small place is all that's sought
no room for Homer or even Longfellow
but languid melancholy, words so mellow
to concentrate we don't know how
the sound bite has forced down the brow
story, plot, and line is VANQUISHED!
and the heart and mind lies in anguish
the three minute soap box on the corner
has made the muser a lonesome sojourner
the hoary mold has been broken
the current mode merely a token
raise the voice, lyrical with meter in rhyme
this neglected path will stand the test of time
Daniel
some desire mercy over sacrifice but here is a pound of flesh
I can't help it. Each time I open a contribution to the poetry
discussion I keep seeing Professor Tulp's Anatomy Lesson.
There they are: all of them in their beards & ruffs; John in his big
black hat, one hand holding the forceps, the other raised in exquisite
definition; Jim bent forward peering at the corpse's genitals; Dan
looking out at the rest of us in honest bafflement. The only one
missing is Kim in her maid's pinny, holding the bucket for slops.
The thing is, chaps, I think he may still be alive. Before discussing
the extensor digiti minimus you should try a little mouth-to-mouth.
It's rather nauseating of course & can often end in embarrassment,
but if one - or all - of you just bent down & risked your own breath
you might, you never know, inspire him back to life. Worth a try.
We won't laugh.
As Miss Doolittle 'sang': 'Don't talk at all. Show me.'
Scottie B.
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Received on Tue Jul 1 10:25:29 2003
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