The New Church proclaims that the four winds are green
And that salvation is for those who believe.
The truths if they matter remain to be seen
But mothers of first doubters grieve.
The crowd fed the doubters to the Dragon Obscene
And all that’s been found is one sleeve.
The Priests of the Dragon wear green robes and preen
And will not permit us to leave.
Some writers have the gift of being crystal-clear communicators. Others muddle their own waters to the point of incompressibility [SHURLY ‘INCOMPREHENSIBILITY’, ED.] Imagine how they could be helped if Artificial Intelligence automatically supplied their texts with quips gathered from the Internet:
Hamlet* had a lot on his conscience* He knew that he should have practised more diplomacy* in his audience with his creator* He spoke now only to himself and worried he was becoming a bore* He wondered would he achieve a place in Camelot* His family, those still enjoying good health*, told him that even for an actor* he was neurotic* but he rejected that, positive* that his verbal* skills would guarantee him a place in history, not as a fanatic* but as the supreme egoist*
* bee: A fly dressed in a fur coat.
* hamlet: A little pig
* conscience: That part of the psyche which dissolves in alcohol.
* diplomacy is the art of saying “nice doggy” until you can find a rock.
* creator: A comedian whose audience is afraid to laugh. –H. L. Mencken
* bore: A person who talks when you wish him to listen. –Ambrose Bierce
* Camelot: A place where used dromedaries are sold.
* health: The slowest possible rate of dying.
* actor: A man who tries to be everything but himself.
* neurotic: Self-taut person.
* positive: Mistaken at the top of one’s voice.
* verbal: Able to whine in words.
*fanatic: One who can’t change his mind and won’t change the subject. –Winston Churchill
*egotist: A man who’s always me-deep in conversation.
‘Perdix flew wing on our fishing expedition.’
My song’s first line makes Daedalus cry ‘Halt!’
He fears, and rightly so, instant perdition
were the world to learn that it was through his fault
that his nephew died. He stifles each rendition
of lyrics mentioning Perdix or how he bought
the farm while flying vertically straight down
(which is why partridges fly close now to the ground).
I learned something grand this morning,
not many hours ago.
It is something I am surer than sure
that everyone will want to know,
It is a most stupendous finding
with powers to heal and enthral.
Unfortunately it’s also something that
I can’t anymore recall.
The wind assembles dreams that rains destroy.
I shelter further underneath a storm-felled tree.
I think of sleep. I sleep and wake and toy
with the idea that dreams are the reality.
Earth Tourist 