Poetic License

I'm a strong proponent of the idea that an author's writing -- or an artist's work, etc. -- should be allowed to stand on its own, without the aid of commentary or explanation from the creative mind that birthed it. In the poems that follow, you may therefore expect little in the way of exegesis or apology from me. With ample food and booze on hand, I invite you to join me as I stare into the blank white Notepad panel. It is a space that I intend to fill before the night is done.

If anyone may accurately claim that my articles heretofore have established any semblance of pattern, then I hope to break that pattern now.

I said I wouldn't explain or defend my poetry. I lied, sort of. What I'll do is, I'll offer a pre-emptive explanation *before* I actually begin composing the good stuff.

When it comes to my drunken poetry, I typically deal in certain dominant themes. For example, there's usually a downtrodden hero figure who is beset by troubles, only to emerge victorious in the end in a glorious and violent crescendo. The moment of apotheosis is almost always steeped in blood. When not writing about the lone champion who slays all enemies, I tend to focus on entirely frivolous and joyous things, like the awesome flavor of pepperoni, or the stupendous sound of artillery. (Artillery may not seem like a frivolous joy to you, but it is to me.) Also, I often write about games. That's really the main reason why I feel justified in posting this tripe to the front page.

After much experimenting, I've found that my best poetry is written somewhere between four and five shots' worth of inebriation. Anything before that is dreadfully uninspired, and anything beyond -- while often comically crude -- is invariably nonsensical and rife with misspellings. Nonsense is fun, but I'd rather keep it confined to the forums. With that in mind, I'm going to work my way up to four or five shots before I begin writing, and then pace myself at no more than a shot per hour, until the bloody task is done.

*guzzle, sip, slurp, etc.*

We begin with a trio of triolets. The triolet is a short and entertaining form, hypnotic when recited -- in addition to being easy to work with while moderately drunk.

Sound Advice For Gamers Everywhere

Be wary of those waters green;
Your doom they surely spell!
Even if they be aquamarine,
Be wary of those waters green,
And all other shades in-between,
For death they all foretell.
Be wary of those waters green;
Your doom they surely spell!

The FPSer's Demise

Gods! But for more ammunition!
My foes are fast encroaching.
Soon I shall have failed my mission;
Gods! But for more ammunition,
With which to defend my lone position,
From they who are ever approaching.
Gods! But for more ammunition!
My foes are fast encroaching.

The Feast

Take heart! -- The feast
Is near -- and tasty!
Partake of the beast!
Take heart! -- The feast
Is recently deceased
So eat, and be hasty!
Take heart! -- The feast
Is near -- and tasty!

Next comes a villanelle. Here, I'm going to do my best to stick to a strict syllabic scheme of eight per line. Many an annoyed gamer has wondered at this next mystery...

The Mystery of the Corpses

For so long I have yearned to know,
And wondered with anxiety,
Where do all the dead bodies go?

I've wreaked immeasurable woe,
Yet know not where the corpses be.
For so long I have yearned to know!

I have slaughtered both friend and foe,
Yet they disappear noiselessly.
Where do all the dead bodies go?

To what agency do I owe
Thanks for this cosmic mystery?
For so long I have yearned to know!

I cannot help but ask, "Howso?"
When they vanish from beneath me.
Where do all the dead bodies go?

Are they stacked somewhere all arow,
In some realm I yet fail to see?
For so long I have yearned to know,
Where do all the dead bodies go?

Finally we get to the sort of wroth and raging piece that I alluded to in the introduction. This is a ballade with double refrains. It's based on a true and unpleasant story; it's inspired by some recent angry posts in the forums; and it's dedicated to Thin_J.

My Best Face Forward

As the sun beats down on the asphalt lot,
Where beasts neither fly nor creep,
Toward Best Buy I worriedly trot,
And the fire in my breast burns deep.
A joystick I seek, and not too cheap,
Beyond that blue and yellow wall,
But I do not laugh, and I do not leap,
For I know what will soon befall.

Quickly then I find the spot,
Where various joysticks they keep;
Where broken peripherals are long forgot,
And the fire in my breast burns deep.
The joysticks on display are all worn and aheap,
But with hope, I set upon the sprawl,
And finding a joystick I like, beweep,
For I know what will soon befall.

Behind the counter awaits an ill-got plot,
Though its owner seems mostly asleep;
My consent to her warranty she insists that I jot,
And the fire in my breast burns deep.
The man at the door wants to see my receipt;
His eyes are those of a thrall,
And truly his bounds he does overleap,
For I know what will soon befall.

In my car I resolve to end these sheep,
And the fire in my breast burns deep!
With arms in hand I pace back to the mall,
For I know what will soon befall!

I hope you enjoyed them!

--Lobo

Comments

God! If I read one more gaming related, alcohol induced villanelle about disappearing virtual corpses I'm going to scream. I've already read like thirty today. You just can't visit a gaming website anymore without getting slapped in the face with every Tom, Dick, and Harry's villanelles! Try for some originality next time!

(can we assume sarcasm tags and smilies are implied throughout my comment?)

On a more serious note: outstanding.

I love it. But, no iambic pentameter?

Iambic pent, eh? Maybe next time. Although one of these days, I'd love to try my hand at some dactylic hexameter + pentameter elegiac couplets. In Latin, preferably... just like my idol. The difficulty of such a task is so far above and beyond my past efforts, though, that I fear I'd end up a mere wimpering shell of a man. More than usual, even.

Elysium wrote:

God! If I read one more gaming related, alcohol induced villanelle about disappearing virtual corpses I'm going to scream. I've already read like thirty today. You just can't visit a gaming website anymore without getting slapped in the face with every Tom, Dick, and Harry's villanelles! Try for some originality next time!

Where is the Haiku? No poetry collection is complete without the haiku.

The game it appears
Has gone away abruptly
The blue screen of death!

Well done Sir Lobo, I am lucky I can chew gum and walk while drunk.. you have shown us all that we should shoot higher than just being able to aim at the toilet.

When I took creative writing in college we spent 90% of our time writing poetry, which turned me off to taking another voulantary English class for the rest of my time there. I hated poetry, it smelled like dirty hippies.

Lobo's poems completely feel like the opposite, however. If I'd gotten assignments to write about slaughtering everyone in Best Buy, I might not have hated poetry for all these years.

Actually I probably still would've, but I enjoyed the hell out of these anyway!

well done, very well done. I raise my quill in salute good sir!

Computer Error Haiku is still some of my favorite poetry.

I've never been schooled in poetry and don't understand the more literary stuff. I loved this and it's just awesome Lobo.

I also find the line 'With arms in hand' to be extraordinarily clever.

Well done Lobo - I must say, The Mystery of the Corpses just now has managed to rank with some of my favorite poems of all time. I think your 4-5 shot sweet spot is a good spot indeed!

Lobo, I would pay good money for a book of that stuff. If I couldn't get it here for free, of course. More please.

I really enjoyed that. I really liked the FPSer's demise. I thought it captured the tension you feel in game really well.

Well done Lobo, I hope we get to see more.

I think that when SETI finally hears from the aliens, and they send us plans for a great and mysterious machine that will send an emissary into the stars to meet his father, that we should tell Jodie Foster to stuff it and send Lobo.

Outstanding. We are not worthy.

4tomsm4sher wrote:

Lobo, I would pay good money for a book of that stuff. If I couldn't get it here for free, of course. More please.

Seconded. This is brilliant stuff, Lobo.

I agree with Mixolyde - I wouldn't know a dactylic hexameter from a ten-speed mountain bike - but these I really enjoyed.

Awesome!

Especially the triolets. Something magical about the combination of short, sweet form, the fun subject, and just the right amount of inebriation...?

Thanks for the compliments, everyone. You all bring great cheer to my heart. I'll have to do this again sometime.

Excelente! I feel a need to get together with you and share a bottle of a nice crisp vodka. Actually, let's get two.

Yes Lobo, please, do this again anytime you feel it coming on - it was delicious, some of it I'm still digesting. I'm no literary scholar so if you ever attempt the Triple Lindy dactylic hexameter be sure to give us a heads up.

As SillyRabbit said, please do more of these whenever you feel inspired to do so.

I always get a laugh or two or three out of your poetic adventures, and what's better than a good laugh?

I do believe this is the best batch of gaming related poetry you've come up with so far

I'm no literary scholar so if you ever attempt the Triple Lindy dactylic hexameter be sure to give us a heads up.

So we can have paramedics on alert, sounds dangerous.

Awesome article dude! Further proof that GWJ is not just about teh wiener bomb!

I wouldn't know a dactylic hexameter from a ten-speed mountain bike - but these I really enjoyed.

That's the reptilian hexameter that flies silly!

Mixolyde wrote:
I wouldn't know a dactylic hexameter from a ten-speed mountain bike - but these I really enjoyed.

That's the reptilian hexameter that flies silly!

Priceless.

Wow. Just simply wow.

I ... hang on ... I'm stunned by your certisishness*, Lobo. Stunned.

*certisish: adj., amazingly awesome.