|
I: The Crowd In the crowd were mountain movers, titans through and through Kings and queens of vast domains and superheroes, too In a bulging wave they went, erasing all along Each one's slim position giving proof of being strong Divvying the workload into manageable shares Left them with enough time to devote to private cares Following the path presented by the neighbour's lead For direction's calculations spared them of the need Summoned by the spectacle to gather into rows Thence to cast off differences where nobody knows Absolute euphoria would pass among the lot Equally distributed from elderly to tot Only when the sun would set, decreeing sleep's withdrawal Splintered by their ranging dreams, their confidence would fall Motionless, they fancied courses dangerous and bold For as long as darkness let them stray outside the fold In the crowd were plump faced children, running to and fro Eagerest to voice their thoughts and let their feelings show Always close to parents, though behaviour would display Their desire to be loved by strangers faraway All the world was well and good, as far as they could see Lots of games for them to play and time for fantasy Unaware of fatal sentence like a toothy shark Standing by to swallow them and trap them in the dark Scrambling to find their way home from the shopping sprees Were the women - contours tucked in folds designed to please More than half the world was theirs, with children on their side Drinking brightly coloured lanes through eyes extended wide Into tidy units interlocking as a whole Did each man, with wife and offspring, see his vital role Likeliest to look upon the bachelor forlorn As a kind of heretic deserving only scorn On the pedestal reserved for rulers high above Showing virtue, said the sage, was how to procure love Freeing up the people for a feral exercise Neighbours bluntly trampled in the name of enterprise Virtue could the wealthy rulers more afford to choose Which they by their fortune's choice were just as soon to lose Settling for images of decency's embrace Forced upon submissive eyes through television's face This made real integrity a thing to be destroyed Certainly when manifesting in the unemployed No chance for comparisons against a flimsy claim Would be possible for those without a favoured name So it was an ordinary father's sorry fate To feed his dependents with a pirate's piece of eight And let his superiors confuse his troubled mind Until blind enough to be misguided by the blind II: The Hermit Perched upon a hilltop far from flattened avenue Stood a simple cabin with a transcendental view Occupied by he who had rejected life below Ending up in isolation, scholarship to grow Though brought up on common rites and taught to stand astride From the great society he'd chosen since to hide Grievously equipped with such a penetrating gaze He detected tragic faults in finest fellows' ways Keen to cultivate his mind, he studied all he could Drawing from materials unpopular but good As a vicious irony, he presently would find Himself by detachment bonded fast to humankind He could tell the hour by the angle of the sun And his daily chores were always to the fullest done No misgivings would await to taunt him at his end Precious heartbeats more efficiently he could not spend Sometimes by a special sight his memory would haunt Of the time before and of the life he used to want Such as when a pretty robin hopped up to his door Certain to have pleased his bygone lover even more She was sweet and simple from the consecrating farm Floating over footfalls with a devastating charm Curly locks unfolding like a masterpiece's frame Rushes still upset him when they whispered out her name He'd constructed lengthy odes to glorify her form Passion bursting at the seams like thunder from a storm Just for an untalented degenerate to steal And to make a dirty lie from feelings felt for real She succumbed to the deception, or so it appeared Until came to light a truth too awful to be feared Knowledge of enchanting verses torn from helpless heart Had the woman kept her secret from the very start First the pain of such a blow had set his anger loose From committing murder was he safe as a recluse With the passing seasons did his violence subside Bitterness remaining in the wake of blood red tide He resolved to not repeat the humbling mistake Fuzzy dreams of fatherhood were better to forsake Like a sturdy fortress were the bookshelves of his den Fitted with a lens of telescopic acumen Talent he could not suppress new works of beauty fed Dedicated to a phantom in his lost love's stead Hardly to be disappointed by the empty air Or to find with highest hopes unfitting to compare From his solitary station great his wisdom grew As the portals opened and the muses past him flew For solutions he had only to explore within As his own competitor, he best professed to win III: The Animals In the lofty overgrowth the wild creatures flocked Turning backs on lodges with their entrances unlocked Families established by a unifying scent Each of whose most prominent held stalls in parliament A return to Eden was their elemental plan This time wishing to escape the company of man Contradicting instinct to assemble as a whole By which they might expeditiously achieve their goal They allowed the hermit to encroach upon their state Knowing that he could not multiply without a mate Kept as individuals the humans were humane Not enveloped by their own, inclined to good remain By the burning venom of a double talking asp Generations of the upright had escaped God's grasp As was evidenced by their remorseless legacy Wielding lethal power in a fearsome tyranny God intended all his children to be down to earth And to cherish property of more than passing worth Ever since the human forbears drifted so astray It had been the animals who rightly led the way Now the woodland citizens positioning to thwart The expansion of a road that cut straight through their court Hoped by such a bold display to herald a new age Which might free their kindred from the exhibition's cage Eagles made the perfect lookouts, vision sharp and clear They detected enemies before they could get near Sounding off a signal as though screeching out in pain Beavers slapped responses passed to bears along the chain The construction workers hacked away to no avail Little to impel them but the progress of a snail Until dynamite was turned to out of their despair Sending great reverberations pulsing through the air To reclaim their territory were dispatched the boars Commonly reputed as the fiercest on all fours But a gross miscalculation pitted brawn with steel As the failure of their charge proceeded to reveal Overseeing operations from a rugged loft Marshall Owell probed for where the enemy was soft And the influenza victim shortly made him wise To a better soldier of immensely smaller size So the flying bugs descended on the hapless crew Having filled up at a pond infected by the flu On a kamikaze crash course, bent on breaking skin And on laying low Goliaths with a pricking pin Harmony returned before the summer sun would set On the field of battle had the men their matches met Carried off on stretchers to the remedy receive As the rodents lined the road to watch the engines leave IV: The Psychopath Profit making summarized the corporation's aim Any cost effective method practiced without shame Taking on the likeness of an evil entity Human rights awarded to what human could not be Founded by a poker shark a century before It had swallowed up the landscape to extend its store Public legislation bending to its private need Tentacles extending to accommodate its greed Paralyzing holdings bore a spiritual stain As the good was compromised for monetary gain Persons paid on its behalf would lend an honest face Certain to divert the glare provoked by its disgrace Honoring the decadence to which the flesh is prone Furnished it the grandeur of a figure cut from stone Yielding to the nature of a predatory beast Put it in an attitude to feed the poor a feast From her conscientious mother Suzie learned to weave Taking to it at a rate ambitious to believe To express her girlhood she found polka dots the best For the slippers that she gave a sleeping over guest Once the guest had put them on, she wanted them to keep Asking Suzie on the morning following her sleep She said that her toes could tell a good thing had been found Of the product, promising to pass the word around Suzie was delighted to comply with such a wish Doubling her weaving in a rapture feverish To her love's appreciation many testified Until polka dots would cover carpets region wide Sales of indoor footwear fell as her successes grew Which for her competitor would certainly not do It was bad for business to be handing out for free Items that improved upon commercial quality First the fiend intruded on her novel new design Calibrating great machines to weave a weave more fine And flood shelves with counterfeits to let her sales clerk state Homemade handouts transgressed to the style imitate Hurtful as this might have been to somebody so sweet The successful child stood up firm against defeat Imperfections lent her work a real old fashioned charm Far beyond the means of a robotic metal arm So the corporation did the girl's repute assault Finding in her overhead a vague accounting fault It was such a 'menace' to so flagrantly infract Government authorities were called upon to act Thus did little Suzie at the tender age of ten Almost pass directly from the cradle to the pen Notches counted up the days of her unhappy spell For the crime of giving what the psychopath would sell V: The Fire Banners bearing the depiction of a gentle dove Guided to the entrance of the Festival of Love All the people gathered for the summertime event Pleased to know that charity was where its money went Long haired bands performed warm anthems, jangling away Children sacrificed their rides to let the needy play Neighbours set aside their feuds to tearfully embrace Even dogs for cats put on a sympathetic face Creditors forgave their debtors, young held hands with old Teachers for the poorest grade refused to even scold Politicians heeded voters, bosses thanked their staff Businessmen who never smiled broke into a laugh Women glided topless, wearing skirts of floral hue Offering their kisses to the men who loved them true Never more contagious was the spirit of good cheer But perhaps for Yuletide at the closing of the year The impressive schedule would brightly culminate With the birthday of an orphan fit to celebrate Portions of the current cake were cut and passed around Heedless of a burning candle fallen on the ground As the birthday music thundered to a jam packed stand Fire first appeared as an illusion of the band When the wise performers dropped their instruments and fled Suddenly the calm collected mass misplaced its head Straight towards the nearest exit in a heated rush Did the former friends proceed to lagging neighbours crush Terrorized by danger pushing out in flaming licks Runners stooped to exercise the dirtiest of tricks Children were compelled to make up for their smaller size Clinging to the backs of brutes and clasping hands on eyes Rendering dependent for directions through the dark That they might be safely carried outside to the park Women feigned distress to bring the men down to a slow Then retreating from the spot, to front of throng would go As the child bearers, they considered it their right To escape a conflagration any way they might Teachers fashioned torches with an appetite to learn The persuasive power of a second layer burn Elderly were swept aside and tossed into a pile As the youth advanced in an inexorable file Businessmen used sidearms a new passage out to scare Politicians teleported to a secret lair Dogs and cats went back to fighting, nothing left to lose Helicopters capturing the mayhem for the news No more birthdays for the orphan caught in the stampede To get past his body had his consciousness been freed So much for fraternity, the will to love and share Up against survival it had never had a prayer VI: The Ghost In a search for lyrics that inspired him to sing Did the hermit scan the archives of the great Sun King Which alluded to a certain royal concubine With an air depicted as more sparkling than wine For her affectations had the king become so keen Naturally she'd provoked the ire of the queen Who'd engaged professionals to terminate the threat Of a usurpation by the best contender yet Earliest convenience for the practice of foul play Surfaced at a tournament of championship croquet With the bearing of his mallet foremost on his mind To the lady's disappearance Louis would be blind Someone slipped a grain of fatal poison in her snuff For accomplishing its purpose one sniff was enough Straightaway the corpse was transferred to an unmarked site Priest prevented from administering the last rite Terrified, the witnesses would whisper not a breath To disclose the shameful truth about her sudden death They said that she'd caught the plague en route to Albany Whence her body was consigned to burial at sea Disallowed the blessing of a priest, she lingered on Though she'd hidden from the portal until it was gone Knowing that she hadn't treated underlings so well She feared that a punishment awaited her in hell Centuries of drawing on the insights of a ghost Gave her a clear reckoning of what she wanted most Matter unto matter may exclusively belong But she still could profit from a well constructed song What the hermit fashioned from his solitary woe Traveled out in waves for the invisible to know By his secret tribute to the woman from the past He'd been inadvertently into her clutches cast Much as his song threatened to attract a living bride She would make short work of any women who replied Scaring them with warning cries or steering them astray Causing them to items of significance mislay As the common music lover's mood received a lift To a state of melancholy he began to shift With the spirit feeding on the impulse of his ache Hoping that his will to live might for their pairing break Sympathetic birds chirped out a sonorous refrain Having means to compliment his elegant quatrain Taking as an asset to the music of the wood Bitter lamentations of a lonely hermithood At such times he came to see his talent as a curse Since it only ever made his situation worse Sharpening his senses for a self directed knife Driving him to daydreams of a better afterlife VII: The Plane Planners for the auto-route looked down upon their scheme Modeled in the miniscule proportions of a dream And exchanged suggestions of the way they should proceed Through an area that was so obstinately treed Having quite exhausted the conventional technique Radical developers were called upon to speak One of whom proposed a tactic wonderfully rare That of an approach from the outflanking open air Armed with deadly buckets of incendiary gas An airplane could penetrate in one efficient pass Work could then commence securely on the broken ground With no breeding places for the insects left around Gentlemen across the floor to this plan gave their ayes And collaborated to at once it realize They possessed a reservoir of strong defoliant Wide enough for planes to scoop from like a cormorant Most of the discussion had been closely overheard By a vigilant and unobtrusive little bird With a major staple of its diet under threat It beat its small wings back home as fast as it could get At a crucial conference with philosophic fowl Did the spy intrude on an astonished Marshal Owell Tweeting unreservedly the bulletin of dread To the venerable senior military head They could still be saved as long as time was not too short By a raid of crack commandos engineered to thwart Sabotage committed by the lustre of the moon Would demand the technical finesse of a raccoon Four were airdropped on the runway where the bomber sat Just as all the lights were turned off, landing rather pat Stealthily they crept towards their stationary mark Whites of eyes protruding out from visors in the dark Straight into the cockpit did the mission chief ascend On the shoulders of the rest who stood watch to defend Underneath the cover of the navigation board Fingers went to work rerouting an important cord With the panel to its former aspect reinstalled Back into the forest were the brave raccoons recalled Without confirmation it was difficult to guess If their operation had resulted in success Morning sun accompanied a loud propeller's drone Which at first as panic struck the creatures to the bone Up until it sharply veered away from slaughter's course Back along a line in the direction of its source Then at last the distant rising of a white hot plume Let them know their enemy had met again with doom Almost as impressive as the sun upon the sea Was his reservoir of compounds incandescently VIII: The Riot In the prison workshop there were many skills to learn To persuade an inmate to an honest living earn And since Suzie's weaving basket had been seized away An instructor showed her how to spin a pot from clay From the very outset she was able to produce Apple shaped containers for her pomegranate juice Straying from example to let manifest her flair In the composition of some bold new tableware Pepper shakers looked like mushrooms, mugs resembled stumps Sugar bowls had hearts on them to measure out the lumps Plates were turned to lily-pads refreshingly askew As the master potter made her dazzling debut This appeared for her to be a favourable turn Keeping her from weaving was the warden's main concern And her spirit, with her hands upon the spinning wheel Was as lifted as her weaving ever made her feel Suzie's next-door neighbour at the penitentiary Had just spent an interval at the infirmary None of the receptacles in which they served his food Had a healthy impact on his miserable mood She gave him a special mug to welcome him back home Lidded with a happy face that bulged out like a dome It was perfect to reduce the swelling in his jaw Helping him to smile and to stabilize his straw At the cafeteria the man exposed his prize Of whose acquisition brought his peers to fantasize Flooding his young benefactor with acute requests For the kind of cup that they could show off to their guests By this time her wares were piled over three shelves high From which it was possible to ev'ryone supply Trays of prison food received a total overhaul Seen as an improvement by consumers, overall Then a lazy dishwasher resentfully complained Of how ill placed pockets caused his fingers to be strained Suzie's crazy cups were more than regimen could stand And were duly deemed as a kaolin contraband This was answered by a grumble clear from cell to cell As is heard from those about to openly rebel Sure enough, the first inspection to impound the barred Finished with a hostage taking and an injured guard Fueled by the victory, an all-out riot spread By a group of Suzie's most devoted patrons led After the negotiator heard the captives' case He repeated what they told him to the warden's face The reviled order would be put into reverse To prevent the situation from becoming worse And with ending threats of further outbreaks as the goal Suzie was accepted for immediate parole IX: The Host On the AM dial for the motorists to tune Was a program broadcast through the weekday afternoon Styled as a talk show of contemporary fare Hosted by the most compelling presence on the air A religious firebrand evocative of speech Able to believers in remotest corners reach He was always looking for another ear to bend Certain that the world would soon be coming to an end Prophecy's professor and astrology's adept Influenced profoundly the direction that he stepped And the latest breakthroughs at deciphering the code Were among the items that he regularly showed The abrupt appearance of a comet in the night Brought his doomsday apprehensions to a newfound height Through the mighty dishes would his panic multiply Intercepted by antennas his address to spy As malignant 'Wormwood' of Apocalyptic fame Did the preacher take to be the interloper's name Soon to follow would the great calamities begin And the execution of the penalty for sin Traffic turned to chaos on the cluttered thoroughfare Lifelong wishes to fulfill without a bit to spare While the survivalists aversion to the grave Drove them as a flock to take their chances in the cave Trading on the stock exchange unfathomably fell Values of commodities impossible to tell Only in their churches did the population trust Waiting tensely for the world to crumble into dust Scientists attempted to anxieties allay With a calculation to predict a path away Then the object unexpectedly adjusted course Hurtling towards the earth with terrifying force For the inexplicable and eerie fireball Wasn't just a comet or a shooting star at all But a vessel from a distant heavenly domain With an army vast enough to flood the Terran plain Humans had possessed the earth for longer than was due Now the time had come for the command of someone new Natural prosperity had only gone to waste On a race of troglodytes afflicted with bad taste Fit for heavy labour in Utopia's ascent Would they abdicate to an unearthly government Rational enough to undertake what they are told Would they aptest excavate great quantities of gold Slowing to a halt above the urban scenery Helped restore the frightened to their past serenity Fiery apocalypse was not upon them yet Outcomes undecided and too soon on which to bet X: The Weapon Overlooking happenings from safe atop his peak For a fast solution the recluse began to seek To repel this enemy in one decisive blow He was just about prepared at any lengths to go Still remaining in his den from his most bitter days Was a weapon great enough the mighty craft to raze One that on humanity he'd since declined to use Now without a better choice, he reinstalled its fuse It rose to its purpose with a disconcerting hum To the angle that would bring its range to maximum He would need to redirect its eager blinking tip At the points of weakness it detected in the ship Had the world's armadas all at once severely struck Up against the heavy hull they would have had no luck Only from the trials of his isolated past Had destructive power ever grown to such a blast At his side, his grim admirer gathered up the scene For the moment, she'd allow him leave to intervene As a spirit, she knew she would make the perfect spy So towards the target did she dutifully fly She attempted access through the tiles in the roof But the strange material was somehow spirit-proof Up and down she tramped in fury, making not a sound Breaking through a layer weakened by incoming round Unseen by the aliens, she surveyed for a clue As to where her escapades would the most damage do Following the arrows to their energy array Where she brought her talents into devastating play The explosion caused a great disruption in the field That effectively had acted as their outer shield Pouncing on the opening, the great gun sharply spit And won recognition with a penetrating hit Loss of levitation brought a deep resounding thud As the vessel sunk just like a bottle in the mud Its resources were diverted quickly to subdue That which unbelievably had overwhelmed its crew Lashing out in desperation, they returned the shot Vaporizing the offending weapon on the spot Now their operation would depart from what was planned As to travel overland was given the command Stricken, their leviathan extended metal jaws Out through which poured legions to continue on their cause Mechanized beyond our means to readily repel Like a fog upon the scape, their ranks began to swell Powerless against the host, the ghost to man returned And was pleased to see that her beloved had not burned Any more resistance seemed unlikely to arise Conquest by celestial foe a fact to realize TO BE CONTINUED |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2007, 2018. Verses by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Friday, March 2, 2018
The Host: Parts I-X
Thursday, August 17, 2017
The Host: Parts I-IX
|
I: The Crowd In the crowd were mountain movers, titans through and through Kings and queens of vast domains and superheroes, too In a bulging wave they went, erasing all along Each one's slim position giving proof of being strong Divvying the workload into manageable shares Left them with enough time to devote to private cares Following the path presented by the neighbour's lead For direction's calculations spared them of the need Summoned by the spectacle to gather into rows Thence to cast off differences where nobody knows Absolute euphoria would pass among the lot Equally distributed from elderly to tot Only when the sun would set, decreeing sleep's withdrawal Splintered by their ranging dreams, their confidence would fall Motionless, they fancied courses dangerous and bold For as long as darkness let them stray outside the fold In the crowd were plump faced children, running to and fro Eagerest to voice their thoughts and let their feelings show Always close to parents, though behaviour would display Their desire to be loved by strangers faraway All the world was well and good, as far as they could see Lots of games for them to play and time for fantasy Unaware of fatal sentence like a toothy shark Standing by to swallow them and trap them in the dark Scrambling to find their way home from the shopping sprees Were the women - contours tucked in folds designed to please More than half the world was theirs, with children on their side Drinking brightly coloured lanes through eyes extended wide Into tidy units interlocking as a whole Did each man, with wife and offspring, see his vital role Likeliest to look upon the bachelor forlorn As a kind of heretic deserving only scorn On the pedestal reserved for rulers high above Showing virtue, said the sage, was how to procure love Freeing up the people for a feral exercise Neighbours bluntly trampled in the name of enterprise Virtue could the wealthy rulers more afford to choose Which they by their fortune's choice were just as soon to lose Settling for images of decency's embrace Forced upon submissive eyes through television's face This made real integrity a thing to be destroyed Certainly when manifesting in the unemployed No chance for comparisons against a flimsy claim Would be possible for those without a favoured name So it was an ordinary father's sorry fate To feed his dependents with a pirate's piece of eight And let his superiors confuse his troubled mind Until blind enough to be misguided by the blind II: The Hermit Perched upon a hilltop far from flattened avenue Stood a simple cabin with a transcendental view Occupied by he who had rejected life below Ending up in isolation, scholarship to grow Though brought up on common rites and taught to stand astride From the great society he'd chosen since to hide Grievously equipped with such a penetrating gaze He detected tragic faults in finest fellows' ways Keen to cultivate his mind, he studied all he could Drawing from materials unpopular but good As a vicious irony, he presently would find Himself by detachment bonded fast to humankind He could tell the hour by the angle of the sun And his daily chores were always to the fullest done No misgivings would await to taunt him at his end Precious heartbeats more efficiently he could not spend Sometimes by a special sight his memory would haunt Of the time before and of the life he used to want Such as when a pretty robin hopped up to his door Certain to have pleased his bygone lover even more She was sweet and simple from the consecrating farm Floating over footfalls with a devastating charm Curly locks unfolding like a masterpiece's frame Rushes still upset him when they whispered out her name He'd constructed lengthy odes to glorify her form Passion bursting at the seams like thunder from a storm Just for an untalented degenerate to steal And to make a dirty lie from feelings felt for real She succumbed to the deception, or so it appeared Until came to light a truth too awful to be feared Knowledge of enchanting verses torn from helpless heart Had the woman kept her secret from the very start First the pain of such a blow had set his anger loose From committing murder was he safe as a recluse With the passing seasons did his violence subside Bitterness remaining in the wake of blood red tide He resolved to not repeat the humbling mistake Fuzzy dreams of fatherhood were better to forsake Like a sturdy fortress were the bookshelves of his den Fitted with a lens of telescopic acumen Talent he could not suppress new works of beauty fed Dedicated to a phantom in his lost love's stead Hardly to be disappointed by the empty air Or to find with highest hopes unfitting to compare From his solitary station great his wisdom grew As the portals opened and the muses past him flew For solutions he had only to explore within As his own competitor, he best professed to win III: The Animals In the lofty overgrowth the wild creatures flocked Turning backs on lodges with their entrances unlocked Families established by a unifying scent Each of whose most prominent held stalls in parliament A return to Eden was their elemental plan This time wishing to escape the company of man Contradicting instinct to assemble as a whole By which they might expeditiously achieve their goal They allowed the hermit to encroach upon their state Knowing that he could not multiply without a mate Kept as individuals the humans were humane Not enveloped by their own, inclined to good remain By the burning venom of a double talking asp Generations of the upright had escaped God's grasp As was evidenced by their remorseless legacy Wielding lethal power in a fearsome tyranny God intended all his children to be down to earth And to cherish property of more than passing worth Ever since the human forbears drifted so astray It had been the animals who rightly led the way Now the woodland citizens positioning to thwart The expansion of a road that cut straight through their court Hoped by such a bold display to herald a new age Which might free their kindred from the exhibition's cage Eagles made the perfect lookouts, vision sharp and clear They detected enemies before they could get near Sounding off a signal as though screeching out in pain Beavers slapped responses passed to bears along the chain The construction workers hacked away to no avail Little to impel them but the progress of a snail Until dynamite was turned to out of their despair Sending great reverberations pulsing through the air To reclaim their territory were dispatched the boars Commonly reputed as the fiercest on all fours But a gross miscalculation pitted brawn with steel As the failure of their charge proceeded to reveal Overseeing operations from a rugged loft Marshall Owell probed for where the enemy was soft And the influenza victim shortly made him wise To a better soldier of immensely smaller size So the flying bugs descended on the hapless crew Having filled up at a pond infected by the flu On a kamikaze crash course, bent on breaking skin And on laying low Goliaths with a pricking pin Harmony returned before the summer sun would set On the field of battle had the men their matches met Carried off on stretchers to the remedy receive As the rodents lined the road to watch the engines leave IV: The Psychopath Profit making summarized the corporation's aim Any cost effective method practiced without shame Taking on the likeness of an evil entity Human rights awarded to what human could not be Founded by a poker shark a century before It had swallowed up the landscape to extend its store Public legislation bending to its private need Tentacles extending to accommodate its greed Paralyzing holdings bore a spiritual stain As the good was compromised for monetary gain Persons paid on its behalf would lend an honest face Certain to divert the glare provoked by its disgrace Honoring the decadence to which the flesh is prone Furnished it the grandeur of a figure cut from stone Yielding to the nature of a predatory beast Put it in an attitude to feed the poor a feast From her conscientious mother Suzie learned to weave Taking to it at a rate ambitious to believe To express her girlhood she found polka dots the best For the slippers that she gave a sleeping over guest Once the guest had put them on, she wanted them to keep Asking Suzie on the morning following her sleep She said that her toes could tell a good thing had been found Of the product, promising to pass the word around Suzie was delighted to comply with such a wish Doubling her weaving in a rapture feverish To her love's appreciation many testified Until polka dots would cover carpets region wide Sales of indoor footwear fell as her successes grew Which for her competitor would certainly not do It was bad for business to be handing out for free Items that improved upon commercial quality First the fiend intruded on her novel new design Calibrating great machines to weave a weave more fine And flood shelves with counterfeits to let her sales clerk state Homemade handouts transgressed to the style imitate Hurtful as this might have been to somebody so sweet The successful child stood up firm against defeat Imperfections lent her work a real old fashioned charm Far beyond the means of a robotic metal arm So the corporation did the girl's repute assault Finding in her overhead a vague accounting fault It was such a 'menace' to so flagrantly infract Government authorities were called upon to act Thus did little Suzie at the tender age of ten Almost pass directly from the cradle to the pen Notches counted up the days of her unhappy spell For the crime of giving what the psychopath would sell V: The Fire Banners bearing the depiction of a gentle dove Guided to the entrance of the Festival of Love All the people gathered for the summertime event Pleased to know that charity was where its money went Long haired bands performed warm anthems, jangling away Children sacrificed their rides to let the needy play Neighbours set aside their feuds to tearfully embrace Even dogs for cats put on a sympathetic face Creditors forgave their debtors, young held hands with old Teachers for the poorest grade refused to even scold Politicians heeded voters, bosses thanked their staff Businessmen who never smiled broke into a laugh Women glided topless, wearing skirts of floral hue Offering their kisses to the men who loved them true Never more contagious was the spirit of good cheer But perhaps for Yuletide at the closing of the year The impressive schedule would brightly culminate With the birthday of an orphan fit to celebrate Portions of the current cake were cut and passed around Heedless of a burning candle fallen on the ground As the birthday music thundered to a jam packed stand Fire first appeared as an illusion of the band When the wise performers dropped their instruments and fled Suddenly the calm collected mass misplaced its head Straight towards the nearest exit in a heated rush Did the former friends proceed to lagging neighbours crush Terrorized by danger pushing out in flaming licks Runners stooped to exercise the dirtiest of tricks Children were compelled to make up for their smaller size Clinging to the backs of brutes and clasping hands on eyes Rendering dependent for directions through the dark That they might be safely carried outside to the park Women feigned distress to bring the men down to a slow Then retreating from the spot, to front of throng would go As the child bearers, they considered it their right To escape a conflagration any way they might Teachers fashioned torches with an appetite to learn The persuasive power of a second layer burn Elderly were swept aside and tossed into a pile As the youth advanced in an inexorable file Businessmen used sidearms a new passage out to scare Politicians teleported to a secret lair Dogs and cats went back to fighting, nothing left to lose Helicopters capturing the mayhem for the news No more birthdays for the orphan caught in the stampede To get past his body had his consciousness been freed So much for fraternity, the will to love and share Up against survival it had never had a prayer VI: The Ghost In a search for lyrics that inspired him to sing Did the hermit scan the archives of the great Sun King Which alluded to a certain royal concubine With an air depicted as more sparkling than wine For her affectations had the king become so keen Naturally she'd provoked the ire of the queen Who'd engaged professionals to terminate the threat Of a usurpation by the best contender yet Earliest convenience for the practice of foul play Surfaced at a tournament of pastureland croquet With the bearing of his mallet foremost on his mind To the lady's disappearance Louis would be blind Someone slipped a grain of fatal poison in her snuff For accomplishing its purpose one sniff was enough Straightaway the corpse was transferred to an unmarked site Priest prevented from administering the last rite Terrified, the witnesses would whisper not a breath To disclose the shameful truth about her sudden death They said that she'd caught the plague en route to Albany Whence her body was consigned to burial at sea Disallowed the blessing of a priest, she lingered on Though she'd hidden from the portal until it was gone Knowing that she hadn't treated underlings so well She feared that a punishment awaited her in hell Centuries of drawing on the insights of a ghost Gave her a clear reckoning of what she wanted most Matter unto matter may exclusively belong But she still could profit from a well constructed song What the hermit fashioned from his solitary woe Traveled out in waves for the invisible to know By his secret tribute to the woman from the past He'd been inadvertently into her clutches cast Much as his song threatened to attract a living bride She would make short work of any women who replied Scaring them with warning cries or steering them astray Causing them to items of significance mislay As the common music lover's mood received a lift To a state of melancholy he began to shift With the spirit feeding on the impulse of his ache Hoping that his will to live might for their pairing break Sympathetic birds chirped out a sonorous refrain Having means to compliment his elegant quatrain Taking as an asset to the music of the wood Bitter lamentations of a lonely hermithood At such times he came to see his talent as a curse Since it only ever made his situation worse Sharpening his senses for a self directed knife Driving him to daydreams of a better afterlife VII: The Plane Planners for the auto-route looked down upon their scheme Modeled in the miniscule proportions of a dream And exchanged suggestions of the way they should proceed Through an area that was so obstinately treed Having quite exhausted the conventional technique Radical developers were called upon to speak One of whom proposed a tactic wonderfully rare That of an approach from the outflanking open air Armed with deadly buckets of incendiary gas An airplane could penetrate in one efficient pass Work could then commence securely on the broken ground With no breeding places for the insects left around Gentlemen across the floor to this plan gave their ayes And collaborated to at once it realize They possessed a reservoir of strong defoliant Wide enough for planes to scoop from like a cormorant Most of the discussion had been closely overheard By a vigilant and unobtrusive little bird With a major staple of its diet under threat It beat its small wings back home as fast as it could get At a crucial conference with philosophic fowl Did the spy intrude on an astonished Marshal Owell Tweeting unreservedly the bulletin of dread To the venerable senior military head They could still be saved as long as time was not too short By a raid of crack commandos engineered to thwart Sabotage committed by the lustre of the moon Would demand the technical finesse of a raccoon Four were airdropped on the runway where the bomber sat Just as all the lights were turned off, landing rather pat Stealthily they crept towards their stationary mark Whites of eyes protruding out from visors in the dark Straight into the cockpit did the mission chief ascend On the shoulders of the rest who stood watch to defend Underneath the cover of the navigation board Fingers went to work rerouting an important cord With the panel to its former aspect reinstalled Back into the forest were the brave raccoons recalled Without confirmation it was difficult to guess If their operation had resulted in success Morning sun accompanied a loud propeller's drone Which at first as panic struck the creatures to the bone Up until it sharply veered away from slaughter's course Back along a line in the direction of its source Then at last the distant rising of a white hot plume Let them know their enemy had met again with doom Almost as impressive as the sun upon the sea Was his reservoir of compounds incandescently VIII: The Riot In the prison workshop there were many skills to learn To persuade an inmate to an honest living earn And since Suzie's weaving basket had been seized away An instructor showed her how to spin a pot from clay From the very outset she was able to produce Apple shaped containers for her pomegranate juice Straying from example to let manifest her flair In the composition of some bold new tableware Pepper shakers looked like mushrooms, mugs resembled stumps Sugar bowls had hearts on them to measure out the lumps Plates were turned to lily-pads refreshingly askew As the master potter made her dazzling debut This appeared for her to be a favourable turn Keeping her from weaving was the warden's main concern And her spirit, with her hands upon the spinning wheel Was as lifted as her weaving ever made her feel Suzie's next-door neighbour at the penitentiary Had just spent an interval at the infirmary None of the receptacles in which they served his food Had a healthy impact on his miserable mood She gave him a special mug to welcome him back home Lidded with a happy face that bulged out like a dome It was perfect to reduce the swelling in his jaw Helping him to smile and to stabilize his straw At the cafeteria the man exposed his prize Of whose acquisition brought his peers to fantasize Flooding his young benefactor with acute requests For the kind of cup that they could show off to their guests By this time her wares were piled over three shelves high From which it was possible to ev'ryone supply Trays of prison food received a total overhaul Seen as an improvement by consumers, overall Then a lazy dishwasher resentfully complained Of how ill placed pockets caused his fingers to be strained Suzie's crazy cups were more than regimen could stand And were duly deemed as a kaolin contraband This was answered by a grumble clear from cell to cell As is heard from those about to openly rebel Sure enough, the first inspection to impound the barred Finished with a hostage taking and an injured guard Fueled by the victory, an all-out riot spread By a group of Suzie's most devoted patrons led After the negotiator heard the captives' case He repeated what they told him to the warden's face The reviled order would be put into reverse To prevent the situation from becoming worse And with ending threats of further outbreaks as the goal Suzie was accepted for immediate parole IX: The Host On the AM dial for the motorists to tune Was a program broadcast through the weekday afternoon Styled as a talk show of contemporary fare Hosted by the most compelling presence on the air A religious firebrand evocative of speech Able to believers in remotest corners reach He was always looking for another ear to bend Certain that the world would soon be coming to an end Prophecy's professor and astrology's adept Influenced profoundly the direction that he stepped And the latest breakthroughs at deciphering the code Were among the items that he regularly showed The abrupt appearance of a comet in the night Brought his doomsday apprehensions to a newfound height Through the mighty dishes would his panic multiply Intercepted by antennas his address to spy As malignant 'Wormwood' of Apocalyptic fame Did the preacher take to be the interloper's name Soon to follow would the great calamities begin And the execution of the penalty for sin Traffic turned to chaos on the cluttered thoroughfare Lifelong wishes to fulfill without a bit to spare While the survivalists aversion to the grave Drove them as a flock to take their chances in the cave Trading on the stock exchange unfathomably fell Values of commodities impossible to tell Only in their churches did the population trust Waiting tensely for the world to crumble into dust Scientists attempted to anxieties allay With a calculation to predict a path away Then the object unexpectedly adjusted course Hurtling towards the earth with terrifying force For the inexplicable and eerie fireball Wasn't just a comet or a shooting star at all But a vessel from a distant heavenly domain With an army vast enough to flood the Terran plain Humans had possessed the earth for longer than was due Now the time had come for the command of someone new Natural prosperity had only gone to waste On a race of troglodytes afflicted with bad taste Fit for heavy labour in Utopia's ascent Would they abdicate to an unearthly government Rational enough to undertake what they are told Would they aptest excavate great quantities of gold Slowing to a halt above the urban scenery Helped restore the frightened to their past serenity Fiery apocalypse was not upon them yet Outcomes undecided and too soon on which to bet TO BE CONTINUED... Good luck getting the thief who's been stealing it all through the month of August 2017 to finish it for you! |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2007, 2017. Verses and Images by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Illustration Footnotes
|
Monday, August 15, 2016: I have added Mary Jane as I believe I originally tried to illustrate her in my poem the Masterpiece, focusing on overall proportion and line. See how the flow of her garment has a botanical, organic quality. I hope you can see how she would be mocked by Tina Fey and Ellen Degeneres in their shredded 'Kermit the Frog' costume. Tuesday, August 16, 2016: I've smudged my equine to bring it together in the Mammals. I now recall drawing it in 2007. Please don't let them steal my Beauty again. I'll touch up my drawings as I go along. Havin' fun. Hope you are well. Wednesday, August 17, 2016: Posted my illustration for Part VIII of the Masterpiece: the Judgment. I now recall having already drawn something similar to illustrate it when I first shared the poem in 2007. You see how far it is from Saturday Night Live's comedy stage? This poem's religious nature made their fraud unholy. Wednesday, August 17, 2016/4:37pm: Adjusted tint to give Mary Jane a viridescent hue in Part III of the Masterpiece - like I ended up doing the first time in '07. I also darkened the drawing for Part VIII (the Judgement). That one needs to be very dark. Friday, August 19, 2016/7:15am: Added illustration for Part VII of the Masterpiece (the Crisis). It is the same image I drew for this chapter the first time. It took longer because most of the people in it are only two to three centimeters tall. Friday, August 19, 2016/9:35am: I've scaled down my 'crisis' image to its actual 8 1/2" X 4", though it's still being displayed larger online. At its actual size, the smallness of its figures can be appreciated - like those tiny elegant horses of Degas. But if it's blown up too large, it looks scribbly. Sunday, August 21, 2016/4:18pm: Added the last of my four illustrations for the Masterpiece. It is a drawing of a would-be painting by the main character. I drew the same one last time. I guess it's up to me alone to repair all the damage to my work since I am the only one who knows how to do my work. The business knows how to destroy my work, but it won't repair its harm by putting the poetry thief Tom Hanks on a billboard in the locale of his fraud victim. For that matter, I think that a hela monster like Hanks has already made far too much money from pretending to be sweet and lovable in the last thirty or so years. I'm sure most people agree with me, however much their TV's want to argue the point. Wednesday, August 24, 2016/5:21pm: Started work on illustrations for the Herald. Part II's image is another inadvertent reconstruction from the past. It's high points are Antipath's bear skin vest and Malody's skirt, whose silky effect was achieved by a child's crayon running desperately out of ink. I need 32 of these types of drawings and I'm only on number 10. I think I had a couple for the Marathon last time, but after that, I think I'll be in new territory. That should keep me occupied for the next couple of months as I try to save my money. Enjoying fine weather here. I'll be back with a new picture page in a couple days. I'm going to link these notes to their corresponding poems now. Saturday, August 27, 2016/4:30 pm: Posted my illustration for Part VIII of the Herald. Again it is a reconstructed past work, but I am hopeful that my next picture page will be all new. Monday, August 29, 2016/7:23 pm: My drawing for Part VII of the Herald is another old work that has come back to haunt. Oh well, I need to add my drawings to my poems anyway. I know I didn't illustrate all of them. I wanted to put Besoozoo, Lord of the Creatures of the Air, in the sky, but I couldn't clearly recall his face. I found those twisted demons hard to draw small. Tuesday, August 30, 2016/3:49 pm: Completed my illustrations for the Herald with my drawing for Part I. I realize that I have again inadvertently reconstructed my illustration, using myself as a model and costuming by reference to particular Medieval paintings. People with Polish blood love the Middle Ages. That was when Poland was a world power. Also added a dash of colour to this one to help keep the eyes awake. I'll probably colour every eighth drawing, but I think black ink is the best medium for my poems, since it goes so well with the written word. I'm going to get into some war drawings now, I think. Bye for now. Friday, September 2, 2016/3:19 pm: Posted my illustration for Part IV of the Tartar War (the Battle). It is the same as the one I used in 2007 for the same purpose. Its 'gag' about aftershave is directly connected to the story, which involves an army of 'aquas'. (The 'gag' of putting 'the Monks' in the shape of a harp for a music sticker is also a result of having a minstrel like character in the Herald and for needing to fill the black guitar case with something interesting in that picture. You don't write things like that as random 'gags'.) As for this first of my four Tartar War illustrations, it may remind Tom Hanks of when he stole that poem I wrote for my father called 'the Veteran' (Visit my poems index.) Dateline likes to attack me on Veteran's Day, too. Or maybe it's just because it's around my birthday. The image file is a little grainy from having to be enlarged from its original 4 and 1/2" by 4", but you can recognize my distinctively chaotic chiaroscuro. Sunday, September 4, 2016/10:19 pm: I see that I've redrawn yet another old work to illustrate Part II of the Tartar War. The fine point pen is still a little thick for the size of the figures, but it's nice to be able to fit more into the scene. I clearly recall drawing and sharing this image for the same chapter of my poem in 2007. I hope I'll be through catching up with old illustrations soon, but I remember seeing this part of this poem being butchered by a TV program in 2007 and I can't remember which one. I see their crimes as being against hard working, honest people who simply don't belong to their privileged group. It's too bad they can't be more like those sweet and simple pearl divers and maybe they wouldn't need to steal my poems and drawings to make them feel good. Monday, September 5, 2016/12:58 pm: I've edited my last illustration (Part II of the Tartar War) to bring out its post impressionist, Paul Gaughin style. I didn't apply as much shading to the divers this time, which would only have taken a few minutes with a pencil, but perhaps I developed some other areas of the composition a little better. Also enlarged it a bit to make the sky look bigger. These stars who stole from me must really disrespect their followers to lie to them so much and for so long with my work. The business that supported their crime must have no regard for the hard work of people who aren't in their privileged club. And the kind of person - Tom Hanks and company - who would steal a poem as personal as the Veteran, which I wrote for my dad, would also be capable of cutting your vital organs out of you in the middle of the night if he needed a transplant. With behavior like that, I hardly think they should be displaying themselves on movie screens as examples of American virtue. Friday, September 9, 2016/2:14 pm: Posted the initial scan of my illustration for Part I of the Tartar War. The scanned image is much larger than the 5 inch by 3 and 3/4 inch drawing. I'll take it home and touch it up but I wanted to show that I'm staying active with my drawing. I know this is a repeat drawing from 2007, but I also know I'm heading to all new territory with my illustrations. Might as well catch up with the old ones first. And I've slowed down my rate of posting to stretch it out until I'm ready to go to court. Thursday September 15, 2016/10:49 pm: Uploaded my last illustration for the Tartar War. I'm dissatisfied with the quality of my war illustrations, but they will do for now. The submarine picture I posted today for Part VII is only 6 inches by 3 inches and took only half an hour to draw. Each and all of my illustrations are no larger than a postcard. There was little or no detail to work with in the photos I used to draw my submarine picture. I used a German U-Boat because I think they were the coolest submarines. Submarines are my favorite warships. I've taken out a picture book from the library to help me illustrate the Heavenly Escapade. Friday September 16, 2016/2:34 pm: Decided my Tartar War looked better in colour. The aquas could be aqua in Part IV and the tone of discussions could be violet in Part I. I've moved on to illustrating the Heavenly Escapade now. For new comedy scripts, I've opened Posterior Reflections. Saturday, September 17/7:05 pm: Posted illustration for Part IV of the Heavenly Escapade (The Refugee). This poem wasn't funny and Saturday Night Live only stole it to ruin it. I already drew a similar drawing for the character of Aurora the first time I shared this poem. She should have the kind of lines that run away on you. I think this drawing may be of the same photo I used in 07. I still need to fill in the background. I like her costume. Only needed to modify it a little. Monday, September 19/8:32 am: Shared my illustration for Part II of the Heavenly Escapade (the Craft) with a similar image to my earlier for this purpose. I modeled the spaceship after a stingray to make it look extra sleek. As for the low moon orbit, the moon is meant to use as a gravity slingshot to send us hurtling to other worlds. It was the only way the ones who put it there could get back home. But I'm sure you already know that. I've just been drawing original pictures for my poems. It keeps me out of trouble. Two more to go for the space poem. Thursday, September 22, 2016/3:51 pm: Posted my picture page for Part V of the Heavenly Escapade (the Musicians). I recall drawing and sharing a similar composition to illustrate this chapter when I first shared the poem. I'm making use of the color pens to show the kids the possibilities with those crayolas. Fun little markers. This is another small drawing but it looks okay big. Good depiction of the planet Sonorus, I think. Monday, September 26, 2016/1:50 pm: Restored my illustration for Part I of the the Heavenly Escapade (the Prospector). The irregularities in his fleshtone are caused by nine years having passed since he first appeared online. I recall using myself to model for the original character of Alexander in my poem, nine years ago. Along with that, I now recall how I was visited by one or more strange women who posed as neighbours in need of my internet access. The first one surprised me by knowing my name when she said, 'you know, Dave, you look pretty good there with your space helmet, and that's why I'm telling them it's someone else.' And then two came at me at once a few months later, to give me the impression that my drawing of me was sexier than I was. Anyway, these are horrific memories when I consider what has become of so much of my work in the meantime. And I could have been making money all these years with new work if so many assholes hadn't needed to build their careers out of my old work. Monday, September 26, 2016/10:45 pm: Edited my picture of Aurora in Part IV of the Heavenly Escapade. I think she looks better with eyeballs. I also needed to increase her head size a bit and make her fist a bit larger. She's supposed to be a doe like beauty, reminiscent of Helen of the Might Hercules cartoon. This does not entitle anyone to abuse my earlier attempt to draw this character, as I heard happened when I edited her to make her face more doe like in 2007. Wednesday, September 28, 2016/9:34 am: Completed and posted my new, improved illustration for Chapter I of the Heavenly Escapade (the Prospector). My enhancement of the character's girlfriend demanded higher standards of proportion and line. I achieved a similar improvement with my first drawings of Alexander, whose long hair emulates his illustrious namesake, back when I first shared the poem in 2007. But those drawings were all stolen and I forgot about them. Anyway, the overall body of the model hasn't changed but there may be a distinctly higher hairline. I'd have to see my earlier one. These are great drawings. Shame what happened to them. I'm on to the Marathon next. I hope I left a few drawings for myself in that. You can see my sketch of this cartoon as I posted it yesterday in my posthumous blog, Posterior Reflections. Thursday, September 29, 2016/2:00 am: I'm on a weird schedule from all the backbreaking labour here. Touched up the head on figure drawing for Part III of the Masterpiece (the Temptress). I still have to shrink it down to its normal small size. In figure drawings, we worry about the overall figure and dismiss the head. But I assure you that if someone can keep a human figure in a proportion, he can also draw a human head in proportion - though I could not see the head in this photo and had to invent it out of nothing. Heads and figures are equally hard to draw, but they are hardest when the drawings have to be small to fit inside a little 8 and 1/2 by 11 scanner. And while I struggle with this microsurgery, I must hear people who stole my songs in 2012 criticizing them, such the person who was eager to joke about how my initial post of Aurora was 'pretty', drawing attention to the head in a my figure drawing to suggest that I am untalented. (Are you saying I'm untalented now? Yeah, that's what you've said through this whole ten year long crime with my ten years of work. I should grow up, eh? After I already watched you grow up.) And I've been drawing things in proportion for about forty-three years now and all I've been able to draw in the last ten has been the first and second posts of every drawing I shared online that ended up getting stolen by my critics and passed off as their work. Anyway, I still have to touch up that pearl diver and let me apologize to her for the fucking pricks who like to put pressure on anyone whose image I used for a drawing. This must be the kind of thing that those TV stars broadcasters and bands want you to support now. Friday, September 30, 2016/9:55 am: Posted improved illustrations for Part I of the Heavenly Escapade (the Prospector) and Part II of the Tartar War (the Pilot). I consider it a victory to have etched facial features into that pearl diver's 4 mm wide head with a pilot fineliner and not totally botched it on the first stroke. And yes, her breasts do, in fact, point up. They are very firm, possibly from doing the breast stroke. My Alexander character in the Heavenly Escapade needed a little work around his eyes. I went over the outside of my pencil line on those when I should have stayed on the inside. Anyway, now he looks like he did when he was a teen heartthrob in 2007 and those nasty workers barged into my home and tried to make me feel gay for creating him. Saturday, October 1, 2016/10:55 am: Modified illustration for Part II of the Tartar War (the Pilot). I wanted to bring out some warm sunrise tones in the water. But the military base carved up all the vegetation on the island so I don't need any green for it. I'll touch and retouch my older works as required when I get a chance to review them. Monday, October 3, 2016/1:03 pm: Added illustration to Part II of the Obelisk (the Lovers) with a picture of Ophelia and Mark in the battlefield. (I know I said I would illustrate the Marathon next, but I changed my mind.) I recall drawing a very similar picture for this chapter in 2007. I gave the soldiers Spartan helmets and posed for the head wound. (No, I wasn't trying to peek up Ophelia's toga.) By the way, I hope I did the face okay in this. It's actually easier to idealize facial features by making them more symmetrical. I suppose that when the body is in proportion, the head needs to be more accurate. Back in the 1980's, when I was an impressionable high school student, I was greatly influenced by Heavy Metal cartoons. You may see this influence in my current illustrations. Tuesday, October 4, 2016/12:56 pm: Made a two frame video out of my illustration for Part II of the Obelisk (the Lovers) to create the flash of artillery - but not the sound. I think I did the same thing in 2007, using my old imac. I also clipped the boots out of the frame because there was nothing but empty mud to put behind them. It looks like a fuller picture now. I bet I did the same thing last time. And is anyone mocking my efforts? Not the broadcasters who praised the jerks who ripped off thousands of my posts? Not them any more, just all their dedicated hate subscribers? Thursday, October 6, 2016/3:23 pm: Posted my drawing of the wonder weapon to illustrate Part III of the Obelisk. It's similar to my last effort on this project nine years ago. Most of the nine years since has been spent recovering the vast volumes of work that were stolen from me by stars on the TV and radio and in the movies. And now some people want to bash my drawings because I'm not a movie star like the big important pricks who steal my beautiful posts and tell filthy fucking lies about me. Why should it cost me so dearly to not have a movie career? Does it cost you all anything to not be movie stars? Why do some fucking brain dead TV loving assholes who I tell to stay the fuck out of my account and leave me alone need to make me pay for not being a fucking prick movie star like those reptiles who cheat their way to the top and suck the blood of true talent? Thursday, October 6, 2016/5:08 pm: Reposted my new illustration with changes to cool down the colour scheme in Part III of the Obelisk. Now it looks more like it does in my drawing pad. I must have heated up the colours accidentally when I turned up the exposure to clean off the scanner noise. My legs are tired from having to make four round trips to post my work from an outside computer a half mile away. This is because I can't trust Telus to treat me fairly with my home connection, as they proved to me in 2007 and 2008. And I can't very well ask the cable company for help after their shows tried to murder me in front of the whole world. Sure would be nice if some of these big powerful corporations who control our fucking lives would be more law abiding. But instead they seem to want to get everyone to worship music frauds and comedy frauds as though they were Jesus Christ and hate the author who wrote all their work. These crooked shows have stirred up a lot of hate. And who thought I needed a suit? Do you think I'm applying for a job in my poetry illustrations? Fuck, thanks a lot for all this shit, there, internet and cable companies. Friday, October 7, 2016/1:32 pm: Edited latest illustration for Part III of the Obelisk to get upper battlements pointing more upward. Will add more comment on this topic to my next blog post. |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2016. Statements by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Monday, August 15, 2016
The Octiverse (Or Wise-Hall-Flea's Stolen Popularity. See below.)
|
Actually, Wise Hall Flea's stolen popularity depended mostly on a campaign by my viewers to force views onto one of my YouTube videos, but it fell within this period. The band's front person later, on the radio, boasted of having a million and a half views over the weekend. Here are links to eight poems of eight chapters of eight verses, totaling 512 verses or 2048 lines of rhyming verse. This work was first shared in 2007 and I was forced to see it stolen, chapter by chapter, by a crooked TV network as I wrote it, which led to my decision to erase it and the remainder of my account from the web. And the disease-like way I am being treated in the present reminds me exactly how I was treated when I first shared this vast work of my love. IF ANY OUTSIDE POSTS STILL EXIST ONLINE THAT DUPLICATES THIS CONTENT, THEY ARE UNAUTHORIZED. PLEASE FLAG THEM DOWN AND ALERT THE POLICE. The Obelisk The Marathon The Herald The Heavenly Escapade The Masterpiece The Tunesmith The Mammals The Tartar War |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2007, 2016. Verses by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
The Tartar War (Complete)
|
Here's the whole thing now. I didn't share Part VIII in 2007 because I didn't want those clowns destroying its serious message with their damn comedy show. And a lot of good it did me. I: The Fog  The war that held the nations in a general calamity According to official records, modestly began at sea A slender drop of tartar on a navigator's instrument Induced an incident that would be lastingly significant Away from safe and neutral waters for her taunting exercise The vessel trespassed flagrantly as all onboard remained unwise Where testing of new armaments to better to deploy know how Provoked a hail of angry shots that sharply glanced across her bow The consequential rupture through the highest power's corridor Cost influential delegates their once precarious rapport A trade agreement, months to mend, summarily was voted down As seafood flew in hot exchange before the speaker's sternest frown There hadn't been in ages a dispute sufficiently intense For eagerest belligerents to test their limits of defence Or for a young man restless in the stagnant atmosphere of peace To have a chance to his disgruntlement against a foe release The War Department, drawing on experiences of the past Preferred a cautious strategy above the fury of the blast The volatile voters were secure on the domestic front For the initial ground campaign, the volunteers would bear the brunt The Ministry of Propaganda's offices were set to swell With new recruits impatient to engage their captivating spell Instructions to the masses would arrive from them on channels wide With memos of superiors to use as their unfailing guide Investors scooped a windfall from the market's sudden closing turn At least the ones who had a major stake in a defence concern By gambling correctly on their government's combative stance Their faith in a negotiated settlement stood not a chance In short, the Tartar War was as ridiculous in proper name As it would be for its commencement to on any culprit blame A critical decision bowing to the pressures of the day Of people in a looping chain where no one held the final say II: The Pilot  For Captain Scott, familiarity with his patrol's routine Assured him there was no assault he couldn't get away from clean Until he dared to make a second pass at a forbidding base Whose rocket stripped him of his plane to tumble in the clear blue space The wisdom of his cozy school, he had occasion to refute When well above the safety zone, he opened up his parachute And let himself be swallowed in the vast and panoramic scope Descending to the wild wood with bare survival as his hope His landing by observers tracked, his apprehension was a breeze To contemplate his coming horrors left him feeling ill at ease From pushy escort, freedom shocked, with well aimed arrows incoming Delivered by who called themselves the children of the burning spring On disadvantage's behalf, it was their attribute to act Inviting him to share the shelter of a hut from flora hacked Their hieroglyphs depicted as an active torch the local peak Apparently the exit of an incandescent vapour leak The base commander thought the flame too much of an unwelcome draw With hard cement he'd stemmed its hole and made its light against the law And now with entrance to its perch by somber sentries strictly manned A push to take it from the ground was sounder dreamed than could be planned The rescued man indulged in the repose of his idyllic gains Participating in the hunt and painting scenes with berry stains The women were attracted to the stranger from the morning sky And to engage his company were none of them the least bit shy An airstrip added to the base brought powered flight within his range His stealthy raid to steal a plane with tribal help was to arrange They silently subdued the guards, attacking in the dead of night Before the siren sounded, he was in a cockpit, taking flight He pivoted to see that the remaining planes would grounded stay Providing the accomplices the time to make a getaway Then arching to the mountaintop, his payload would ignite the blaze To draw the cheering of his friends and win from them their highest praise III: The Spy By embassy officials had Penelope been proudly bred The same who put the calling of a spy in her attractive head Recruiting her from childhood to eavesdrop on the guests who came For tidbits of importance in negotiations' ruthless game She had a gift for languages that made her the astutest bet To infiltrate the enemy where access to their plans was let Their own assessment would confirm her typing was impeccable And rate her presentation as both polished and professional They hired her to shuffle papers in the transportation corps An area with less of what precisely she was looking for Though movements could be analyzed to military targets glean And her employer dining with a general, she'd plainly seen To get him into bed with her where she could force his secrets out Applying her seductive charm, she masterfully went about The mailroom clerk found her request a difficult one to resist And finally allowed her leave to scan the senders on her list Her prying eye identified the only knowledge she could use Discovering her boss's love for glossy shots of women's shoes The magazine subscription struck the woman as peculiar For he who had no partner he could lavish, in particular The fetish had a deep effect upon the footwear that she chose To wiggle for his warped delight, she shamelessly exposed her toes But he seemed not to notice as he tended to affairs of state Regardless of her podia, he would not ask her on a date Her subtle passes having failed to magnetize his interest Improperly atop her desk she lifted up her pumps to rest The tactic proved successful by the invitation that she found To meet inside his office after work with no one else around The hour reached, she checked herself and moved in for the final kill And found the mailroom clerk instead with drink her cast off shoe to fill He'd buried his subscription in the catalogs of his employ In order to conceal his shame, no matter how he'd spies annoy IV: The Battle  The khakis thought their bold assault would take their aquas by surprise With all they had in men and arms, the order came to mobilize Their focus was a stretch of pasture pushing well inside their zone Whose long abandoned soil had by choking weeds been overgrown Their armoured column ground along with disconcerting steadiness As fighters shot past overhead to demonstrate their readiness Morale was high enough for marchers to pursue a lively hymn And in their step to furnish an additional degree of vim But their intention had been known in time for equal force to mass Opposing them in aqua trenches straight before where they would pass Who'd lined the road on either side with crushing cannons to discharge As long the invading army wanted to remain at large Allowed to push as far as to the gates outside their dreary claim Belonging to an area that to their eyes looked all the same They opted to retire to the comfort of the canvas tent From many days of marching had their energy been greatly spent The hopeful promise of the dusk to give an interval of sleep By blazing guns along their flank, would prove impossible to keep A whole division fell at once, who'd occupied their outer row In flimsy structures there condemned to face the muzzles of their foe Determined to their posture keep, the khakis to their camp were bound Releasing planes to terminate the lethal presence on the ground The fires from the payloads caused a cauldron of infernal heat In this successful rescue from an unexpected snap defeat At night, the fell hostilities converted to a gripping clash As hand-to-hand the combat sank and through the ranks the shells would smash Machine guns peppered out on angles bent to wreak a heavy toll And flames engulfed the battlefield to make the demolition whole By dawn, the sole survivor in the middle of a ghastly heap To plant his flag of triumph in the blood soaked surface firm and deep Would find it beneficial to have had a better sense of line When his proud stabbing stake released the detonation of a mine V: The Hate The Ministry of Propaganda's pitch to sell a bloody war Would emphasize the causes that the people thought worth fighting for And where their proclamations wanted substance in reality The gap was filled by repetitions, broadcast to banality The propagandists knew their target did not march or hold a gun But nonetheless by their bombardment could be driven on the run The thing that so insidiously stood to their success negate Was any love that would not yield to wartime's sweeping tide of hate An artist with a piercing view his hand was given to uphold Had found a modest corner where his outlook could the crowd behold Believing it important to sustain the virtue of his side With others who would grow until they spanned the nations far and wide Unable to withhold his insight, graphic images he drew Of ultimate futility and foes who suffered losses too He found the overstatement of the enemy's exclusive blame An insult to his wisdom and a source of patriotic shame To minimize the menace of his surging popularity His image was beset by the defacers at the ministry They used his plain humility to say his voice was fit to shun And to explain his poverty, a litany of lies were spun Although this made the people shy to hold him up for broad acclaim The source of their enlightenment for most of them remained the same To thwart his work's proliferation, shortened did the hours grow Which pressured his detractors to purloin his whole portfolio His honesty as manifested in expressions that they took Gave their corrupt dissemination the more veritable look Consigning him to suffer the appearance of a filthy fraud And fierce rejection from the many tricked to think his word was flawed His shining view befit a shadow blanketing from coast to coast His love more like an incantation able to subdue a host The harm of their outrageous crime brought no guilt to the culprits' mind Belief in their illusions to their wrongdoing had made them blind VI: The Captives As prisoners, the soldiers knew their loyalty was under threat From punishing effects of the interrogations they would get Though sworn to put the obligations of their cherished country first They soon forgot their duty, once deprived of sleep and mad with thirst To look upon and be reminded how much worse might be their lot Hung poor McGregor's beaten form, exposed to sunlight burning hot For his refusal to accept the terms of capture he'd been shown Kept just alive enough for the capacity to wince and moan Their camp hewn out of timbers offered nary an amenity But living standards lowered to the point of inhumanity Which made the prospect of employment at the harsh munitions plant By contrast to alternatives, seem positively elegant With heads averted to avoid the shame imposed by their brave mate They shuffled past him, headed for relief beyond the wire gate To diligently arm the menace to their land with deadly strength Determined not contemplate their moral sturdiness at length They'd have to take on slavery to get an ordinary meal But unobstructed scenery allowed them to like free men feel As they stretched out their stiffened legs and gulped the vitalizing air Permitted to at least enjoy their passage through the thoroughfare The ragged file disappeared inside the great facility To each survive another day, assured of their ability As friendly troops advanced to liberate the camp they left behind Wherein McGregor was the only prisoner that they would find From his condition they could tell that to his honour he'd been true And asked him if the whereabouts of other prisoners he knew Unable to reply with words, his index finger was unbent To indicate the vague direction that his absent comrades went Above them, on the line he showed, flew bombers on a dour pass Against the largest maker of the enemy's most toxic gas A distant blast begat a frown on he who'd chosen death to face And of the ones who'd clung to life, adorned the final resting place VII: The Profiteer  Protruding through the lapping waves to furnish a clandestine breach The captain's trusty periscope confirmed the target was in reach A convoy of disjointed freighters, chugging out to open sea With foodstuffs and cosmetic goods, according to the registry The captain was a peacetime merchant whose connections guaranteed A share of profits for increasing areas of market need By raising prices of the items that were smartly stowed away His submarine was out to make the customers unfairly pay Inside his blazer was a letter sealed with an exotic stamp To tell him that his son had been incarcerated in a camp Relieved to know the war would end with his domestic life intact To build a fortune for his happy homecoming he now could act With speed enough to overtake the portly vessels from the back He chose the nearest and began manoeuvring for an attack With toothy swimming predators he was compelled to think alike Engaging forward thrust until his ship was in the range to strike Once bearings had been passed to guide the men on the torpedo bay The captain's order came to fire on their unsuspecting prey Again he checked his periscope to know the rightness of his aim And smiled at the sight of a direct hit's swelling orange flame A message came through on the set from uppermost authority Which over current exercises strictly took authority It told him that a freighter holding captives rather than supplies Was passing through his sector and to not be fooled by this disguise A panic overtook him as he pondered his potential loss But of his situation he was still the undisputed boss Commanding his compliant crew to surface and to pull astern Of she which they had doomed, in order to her cargo's nature learn The divers swept for scattered clues as flames expired undersea Returning with the sole survivor of the morbid tragedy His uniform's design and colour with their own appeared as one But sadly he could only speak of bunking with their captain's son VIII: The Toll A healer's life superbly fits the most compassionate and kind Which may explain the line of work that Doctor Good had been assigned No patient needing urgent care was ever turned back from the door Of his civilian practice which was discontinued by the war Since then he'd brought the skills that complimented his humanity To minister to wounded at the crux of the insanity Where time imposed strict limits on the quality of his support And pressures from the battle's turns began his vision to distort The worst occurred when he had nurses out with him to make a call Into a circle of the foe disastrously their truck did fall Their rescue came from friendly troops who'd strayed from a position far But not until assaults against his nurses tore an ugly scar The leering overseer with a face that he could not forget Eluded capture and was thought to be marauding freely yet His failure to protect the nurses soured their relationship And made the doctor pray the fiend would be delivered to his grip With peace talks threatening to end his chance to even up the score He changed his gloves and indicated he could take one patient more From out of fallen foreigners whom no one else could tell apart The man upon the gurney sent a heavy shudder through his heart The strutting rapist was by bullets weakened and in nagging pain As Doctor Good pulled down his mask to let his patient leer again The galling face's look of shock eliminated his last doubt Before the funnel for the gas would cover up its helpless pout The wounds had not been critical until extended by his knife Which went to work dismantling the organs that sustained a life For Hippocratic obligations, this sick case would not be spared To wake up in the post-op ward and learn that peace had been declared Whatever prize might be pursued by men-at-arms at any date However with potential or adventurous to contemplate Is certain to exact from them at least a disappointing toll At most, the unconditional surrender of the human soul |
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
|
||||||||||
| © 2007, 2016. Verses and Images by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved. |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)