Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2017
i was never an enthusiast of the man,
don't know, never caught me,
the drill of impersonation,
of the zeitgeist doppelgänger
mode of enforced reminder,
just this, forcing upon
another of a memory:
i always repeated the mantra -
let the river flow,
let history become less
congested,
don't allow the **** beavers
build the dam of
historical coagulation...
let others onto the pedestal stool,
but once history that's
a river becomes a dam enforced lake,
well, we currently live in
such times,
  we can't shake off the 20th century
as luckily as we might think
we have done so already...
it always seems to happen...
the closure of the 19th century
was peppered with the most quack
spontaneity...
     usually invoking killers,
as always happens,
a son of cain encrusts the beginning
and the end of a period,
solidified by abel...
      nonetheless,
chris isaak came close to elvis presley,
he rubbed shoulder to shoulder
with "the man"...
it was only, but one song,
but houdini was knocked dead with
a single punch to the stomach...
sometimes it really takes a single
blow to the giant, to see him fall...
after all, achilles was governed
by death, to die from a mortal
imprint of an arrow on the heel...
     elvis who? chris isaak, i agree...
a song that tends to echo without
a repertoire of all to eager impersonators...
it's the per se momentum -
    **** just rolls,
and lols while telling the:
elvis has left the building joke
with added u.f.o. paraphernalia add-ons.
we live in times of
constipated history,
    by now you should have spotted
& appreciated that history is constipated,
the pop culture, the stars in their eyes knockout
sucker punch...
   we are currently living in times,
in constipated times, awaiting a massive
abnormality of leaving the plus & minus
yin yang of the 20th century...
  feels strange, if all honesty be worth disclosing...
here, on the altar of the yonder,
peering into the vacuum,
    a rudimentary, unforced, what
seems to be: merely a yawn.
      it's a very special place,
we're more nostalgic about the 20th century,
than the 19th century philosophers were
nostalgic about ancient greece...
never has nostalgia been so apparent,
and so apparent, given the proximity -
people will look at the 20th century,
and the beginning of the 21st,
and tense up, sensing the most awkward
magnetism at work...
so, when it comes to spirituality,
i think it's *******,
  i'm more inclined to stress: magnetism...
it's only 17 years into the nuance of
added zeros...
     or, rather, shoving a zero into decade along,
rather than a beginning with ω = o x 2.
     and of those years...
14 were lived at the end of the past century...
still, with one song alone,
chris isaak managed to overcome
elvis presley...
          hardly any imitations worth minding...
and that's all it takes, sometimes,
a stealthy punch to bruise the titan
out of the spotlight,
      uranus - ur, the place where
abraham arrived from -
    gaea & the graeae;
       seems so unimaginative,
that man abides his "spiritual" core to the basics
of the arithmetic, accounted only by
the limited digits,
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, perhaps 10, but certainly 12,
and 0, as antidote to the lemniscate (∞);
then again 24; so too 365;
there's no point any literary outpouring,
no worth volume of expression,
given that man orbits a fascination,
mystifying these numbers.
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  36/M/Essex (England)
(36/M/Essex (England))   
350
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems