Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.
Henry VIII is sitting on the glass coffee table under a can of tuna.
His motto was “Coure Loyall”. True heart.
Sipping Jack Daniels. Sitting in a big red chair. Shitting in a white bathroom.
The dead growl shivers beneath toes, dip hands into the final waters.
The blue waters precede contagion and ennui.
There is too much red outside.
The clouds are bleeding. People are bleeding.
Stopped taking prescribed vitamins. Blood distributes precious nutrients.
Laughing when thinking about twenty-one years of futility.
The normal that had nothing exceptional to boast of.
Recently boarded up windows, was proud, but stole the wood from dead neighbour.
Henry was excommunicated. Wanted a boy.
Sitting here – incommunicado. Want anyone.
“Tis ten to one this play can never please / All that are here.”
Am starting to believe will realise dreams when it happens.
Am starting to believe was destined for this.
…
Am starting to believe anything.
There is only bleak detriment outside.
The heaviness. The noxious.
The sick air.
Looking out the split in the door and there is a man with a gun.
He’s shooting people from his lawn. The bullets are ripping into everything.
Nathanial. Once played poker with him. Want that shiny gun.
Conjecture on when and how it happens. Maybe already has.
Forks are now redundant.
Why eat? Fuck it.
Woke up and threw up. Remembered a holiday to Kefalonia.
Never been more blissful. Ever. Penitence and reparation.
Dust roads zig-zagged and slashed up the mountains like Samoan tattoos.
Picking teeth. Realised this morning am the only person around.
Realised this as running fingers through glazed green yearbooks.
Realise there is no-one else. Wherever. Took that shiny gun.
Listening to a song called “Zion Youth”. A line is repeating.
“Never reach the land that you’re dreaming of”. OK. Accept that.
Just get it over with. Ennui is a fantastic word. Ennui. Ennui.
June 29th. The end of this. Reaching for Nathanial’s shiny gun. Fuck it.
There’s something through the split. Canine omnivorous mammal. Don’t know animals anymore. Sniffle. Emoting for the first time in three years, two months, twenty-four days and six minutes.
King Henry VIII had his arms and badge placed on the collars of his hunting dogs.
Maybe the end isn’t as close at all. Fuck it.
Put Nathanial’s shiny gun down and open the door. Call it doggedness.
Henry VIII was performed on June 29, 1613, the day the Globe burned to the ground.
The Doggerel of June 29th
As I said, I liked it, I knew what it was about. Three criticisms:
1. There isn't much I would call poetry in the first stanza. Maybe fact-dropping about Henry VIII and the play should be a bit more subtle?
2. This stanza confused me, not because it didn't say anything but because I didn't understand its relevance:
Am starting to believe will realise dreams when it happens.
Am starting to believe was destined for this.
…
Am starting to believe anything.
3. Do you think the poem justifies its length? For example, "ennui" is a cool word I agree. But did you just write down what came to mind as you wrote? Some parts give that impression, they just ramble on.
Some great parts though:
There is too much red outside.
The clouds are bleeding. People are bleeding.
Stopped taking prescribed vitamins. Blood distributes precious nutrients.
Woke up and threw up. Remembered a holiday to Kefalonia.
Never been more blissful. Ever. Penitence and reparation.
Dust roads zig-zagged and slashed up the mountains like Samoan tattoos.
Picking teeth. Realised this morning am the only person around.
Realised this as running fingers through glazed green yearbooks.
Realise there is no-one else. Wherever. Took that shiny gun.
Fun to read.
- Caleb
1. There isn't much I would call poetry in the first stanza. Maybe fact-dropping about Henry VIII and the play should be a bit more subtle?
2. This stanza confused me, not because it didn't say anything but because I didn't understand its relevance:
Am starting to believe will realise dreams when it happens.
Am starting to believe was destined for this.
…
Am starting to believe anything.
3. Do you think the poem justifies its length? For example, "ennui" is a cool word I agree. But did you just write down what came to mind as you wrote? Some parts give that impression, they just ramble on.
Some great parts though:
There is too much red outside.
The clouds are bleeding. People are bleeding.
Stopped taking prescribed vitamins. Blood distributes precious nutrients.
Woke up and threw up. Remembered a holiday to Kefalonia.
Never been more blissful. Ever. Penitence and reparation.
Dust roads zig-zagged and slashed up the mountains like Samoan tattoos.
Picking teeth. Realised this morning am the only person around.
Realised this as running fingers through glazed green yearbooks.
Realise there is no-one else. Wherever. Took that shiny gun.
Fun to read.
- Caleb
thanks for the comments,
yes, you're spot on with the fact dropping - I'm cack-handed when it comes to subtlety - still trying to work on it!
the "am" stanza was supposed to weave in some kind of sense that the narrator is slowly disintegrating - it's quite awful dialogue really - trying to restrain myself from talking in any person, if you see what I mean. Hmn. Needs editing!
and you're dead right when you brought up that 'ramble' word - i trail off into whatever direction seems appropriate usually and my editing skills are lacking, so I usually just settle on a draft and check it later. It's certainly a long piece, and maybe some trimming will make it a little easier to digest.
cheers!
yes, you're spot on with the fact dropping - I'm cack-handed when it comes to subtlety - still trying to work on it!
the "am" stanza was supposed to weave in some kind of sense that the narrator is slowly disintegrating - it's quite awful dialogue really - trying to restrain myself from talking in any person, if you see what I mean. Hmn. Needs editing!
and you're dead right when you brought up that 'ramble' word - i trail off into whatever direction seems appropriate usually and my editing skills are lacking, so I usually just settle on a draft and check it later. It's certainly a long piece, and maybe some trimming will make it a little easier to digest.
cheers!
I feel for you. It's maddening trying to balance between subtle and "telly." I noticed in other poems of yours, people were having trouble understanding what you were talking about; here it's too obvious.
Just keep at it I'd say, it'll fall into place eventually, then you'll have bragging rights...
Cheers to you too,
- Caleb
Just keep at it I'd say, it'll fall into place eventually, then you'll have bragging rights...
Cheers to you too,
- Caleb