The following poem is inspired by FB friend Aaron Cook (a brilliant and witty thinker and writer) who posted this picture and caption…
“Hand,foot-less man accepts fate, slowly descends into Hell….I used to know a bellicose man that, when laughing, sounded like he was downing, choking or gargling keys from an old “Oliver” typewriter. Each is tone-spicific. Whith enough typewriters and strident type-set vomitus, I’ll write the great American novel. It’s like reading tea leaves. But I say too much again…. Now I will go light a candle to Mr. Mani-Pedi.”
As with many things I’ve written, I took it a bit further in “Belletristic Bellicose”
I used to know a bellicose man
Who each day fought for a line
That led to the sputum Of an American Novel
Gagging, “Once upon a time.”
His pen slashed at sub-consciousness
Enter sanguine patriot
Sinew torn and bleeding ink,
Till all but exsanguinate
His body stripped of ebullience
Yet all the more cantankerous
The mind ascends the spoils of Men
In a porridge of type-set vomitus
A tempest blows from the open novel
of a periphrastic angry man
That snuffs the lantern at Dante’s door
Without lips or a foot or a hand.
