Linguistic wonderings and wanderings|
I’ve never admitted yet, or before
but I suffer from this brain malady with a name so long and unpronounceable
that no one in his right mind dared yet excogitate,
a brain malady that drops me down unexpectedly down these abysmal abysses
with walls so smooth and oily and impenetrable
that a cat could not hang on to them, or an octopus,
or even a Mallet’s Mortar shooting at it shells adorned with moissanite tipped hooks
and porcupine quills
and other paraphernalia.
Why moissanite rather than diamond?... a simple matter of price, mind you.
See, the malady started its attack already,
I hope it will not extend its unwelcome stay beyond this unwelcome poem, well, we’ll see.
So let’s start with swan-song,
who was the antiquity idiot who invented such uninventable combination?
Carmen cygni, yes, carmen cygni my foot, the right one
which is where a swan once bit me
in a frenzy of jealousy and protectivity. Luckily it did not have hyena fangs.
I believe the inventor was short hearinged, you know, like short sighted
so he saw a nightingale or a harp or a turkey and he thought it was a swan.
Maybe he was also short smelled, short touched... what else is there?... short tasted.
Not short imaginationed, mind you, and reaching notoriety up to Bill’s times
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
And die in music.
Willow, willow, willow—
Moor, she was chaste, she loved thee, cruel Moor.
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true.
So speaking as I think, alas, I die.
and beyond... Geoffrey Chaucer, Nicolai Abildgaard, Alfred Tennyson, Led Zeppelin...
Clytemnestra, another arrow to my linguistic wanderings bow,
do you think hubby Agamemnon called her Clytie or Clytoria or Clo-Clo
before during after their intimate, passionate encounters around
killing her first hubby Tantalus
seeding her son Orestes
sacrificing her daughter Iphigenia
bringing her home lover Cassandra
getting killed by her sharp labrys
so much blood and incest and treason wrapped in those revered myths
that today would get them an NC-17 rating even for reading only
if not a Fahrenheit 451 event at the hands of some proselytizing do-gooders,
oh, Clytemnestra, a name bringing to the forwards of my conscience
disassociated homophones and homonyms considered indecent
the kind of the kleitoris concealed by the labia pudendi
and the beauty of thoughts of shared passion embedded in its modest structure
versus the noisome efforts in relegating any mention of it in any literature of beauty,
techno-medical and degrado-pornographical excluded.
Deformed meaning? Deformed hearing?
You are probably right. You are probably wrong. You’ve been warned.
And what about virtureality?
Don’t google it, it does not exist, yet, I just coined it.
And if you google it tomorrow and it wall-papers your screen it means you stole it,
someone stole it.
I coin a lot of new words, this one is especially dear to my heart
because of someone specially dear to my heart
to whom I dedicated a not so great poem,
fact which does not contradict the previous statement,
titled this way. Virtureality
You will find online a lot of material about virtual, and virtuality, and real and reality,
so what the hell is my brain envisaging to mean differently by this ‘other’ word, you ask.
Listen, don’t ask, interpret!
I do not control the excess weight and the excess creases of my brain
pushing me along these wondering and wandering paths
and if you lobotomize them, provided you could find them,
this kind of debatable poems will not come into existence,
same being true for myths and children stories and theoretical math,
thus accept, interpret
and if you interpreted wrongly that’s great because you tried,
what is virtureality? a world, a rich world, an incredibly rich world
where you move in and out of dreams at will
where you create and destroy and recreate lives at will
where you are the god and the other God accepts your decisions
at least until the end of the story
Ism. What about ism? Well, you could call them philosophies,
or ideologies or religions
type capitalism, communism, totalitarianism, sufism, judaism, catholiocism, budhism
and various other ism’s but there is a new one
not named yet and yet it seems to have invaded and conquered
the minds of all new era politicians and leaders to their kinds
and this is selfishism.
Mine, mine, mine (remember Gollum?)
mine! the chair, the office, the leadership, the country
the money ah money ah money
and the rest can go jump from the highest bridge or tallest building
or parachute without parachute for all these new generation mumbo-jumbo’s care
and one particularly comes to mind
the one who set the foundations for changing president into presidonna
as a leading step towards further changing it to presidonnald
and redefining the American constitution
and its destitution
and the setting of his image next to the Statue of Liberty
or maybe even replacing it.
And in one year probably adding his effigy to Mount Rushmore’s quartet,
his lawyers would see to it,
There are other linguistic wonderings and wanderings I regularly dab into
like all those words starting with caco
or all those words ending with nym
or all those words ending with ism
and some even stranger triggers to my neurological paths
but then I would be writing a dictionary, not poetry.
So I’ll give it a break for now.
Maybe later on I will add a “two” poem to this one.
For now I will just give my back and fingers a break,
go drink a smoothie and repair some roof and watch a debilitating TV show,
all good for their regenerative powers.
I hope you did not read this poem, I really do.