Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Jean Pauline Sartre

I died and found myself on a quiz show.

I had led a wicked life.
I had filled the world with haiku,
and poetry so bad that it split the skulls of my victims with its very vacuity.
They moaned as I was introduced.

My two opponents were as follows:

One, an orphan, with huge eyes and belly on the tiny stalk of his body;
a paper bag with a soul in it,
waiting for a breeze.

The other, a mature woman with her hair done to within an inch of its life;
proper, pious,
a real righteous lady.

Our grinning quizmaster fired out the questions.
How did we die?

The orphan was run over by a jeep full of militia, 
waving bottles of home brew
and firing off automatic weapons at random.

The righteous dame choked on a breath mint,
and fell face first in the mah jong tiles,
so demurely that her friends thought she was only praying to skunk them.

And me?
Critics.

"And now our Final Question!" shrilled the host.
What is life?

The orphan opined that life is deprivation.
As he spoke, he slumped against the righteous dame,
who recoiled and inspected her white tailored jacket for smudges.

Then she proclaimed, from a place of unassailable certainty,
that life is values and personal responsibility.
Then she added that she was glad her tycoon father hadn't died to see this.

When it was my turn, I responded with an Oriental form:

life's tiny flower
has blooms larger than the sun
when viewed from the root.

The orphan sighed.
The righteous dame sniffed.
The host told me to Come On Down and I was made Queen of the Devils.

Now I'm back, walking up and down upon the earth,
seeking the ruin of souls, and best of all,
writing again,
one crime against poetry every day.
__________

for Kerry's existential challenge at Real Toads 



 

19 comments:

  1. Ah, Shay, you spoil me!

    You must know I love every marvellous line, the satirical voice, the switching viewpoints, and the secret to life summed up in haiku!

    I'm clapping and grinning like an idiot over here.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sorry, you ain't Queen of the Devils. See Lananh in my poem today. Bril dream though. See haiku about pwetty flowahs ain't so bad. :)

    ReplyDelete
  3. I roffled myself silly by the middle of this, so silly, I actually thought that was a damn good haiku...as haikus go, of course. And your character will always be QOTD to me.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Oh me, too, what Kerry said. AND.......(drum roll)....you included a HAIKU? The world must be ending. And it is the best one I have ever read! I grinned like a big ole Cheshire all the way through this. Of course I knew you would do something perfect with it - but it is more perfect than I ever dreamed.

    ReplyDelete
  5. This is awesome. I love, love, love it. :)

    Faves:

    "poetry so bad that it split the skulls of my victims with its very vacuity"

    "with her hair done to within an inch of its life"

    "The orphan opined that life is deprivation"

    "life's tiny flower
    has blooms larger than the sun
    when viewed from the root"

    "Now I'm back, walking up and down upon the earth,
    seeking the ruin of souls"

    ReplyDelete
  6. Ah the vacuity of poetry!
    But there is vacuous and there is vacuous.
    One real, one accidentally pretending to be otherwise.

    Some pretend meaning, some pretend vacuity,
    others "walk up and down upon the earth seeking the ruin of souls."

    For only in ruin, is there true freedom!
    [from the game show.]

    ReplyDelete
  7. Sublime and understated--loved it!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Oh, Shay, you are absolutely too much. If I thought I could get up from there, I'd be rolling on the floor laughing. As it is, my stomach hurts from giggling, and from guilt that I could laugh at anything containing an orphan run over by a jeep.
    But really, that righteous dame, "glad her tycoon father hadn't died to see this"!
    Loved it (in case I hadn't made it obvious yet).
    K
    PS, my husband is going to wonder why I'll be giggling all through tonight's baseball game, and I'll never be able to explain you to him.

    ReplyDelete
  9. I am a sap for Jeopardy and I love your poetry-- “A paper bag with a soul in it”. How do you do it?

    This is wicked good.

    ReplyDelete
  10. from line 1, a f8888ing GEM!!!!!!!!!!


    ALOHA from Honolulu
    Comfort Spiral
    ~ > < } } ( ° > <3

    ReplyDelete
  11. Fun, fun! Glad to know I'm in good wicked company ... you and the curse of the haiku! :) :)

    ReplyDelete
  12. Awesome. In the fable teachings of threes, you imagine new myths worthy of our age and time. This makes me very happy. I would love to share it!

    ReplyDelete
  13. one crime against poetry every day

    Now that's what I call ambition! LOL

    ReplyDelete
  14. Weird Al has had quite the career! And this poem is so hysterical and I so enjoyed it! And you CAN write haiku ... I loved it. This was no crime against poetry. Queen of the Devils? I don't think so.

    ReplyDelete

Spirit, what do you wish to tell us?