This poem was composed as an exercise in shaping your poem around a random set of words, and a cliche phrase. We were given 8 words (road, cloud, whir, blackberry, lick, voice, mother, and one other I forget), and told to use 5 of them somehow in a poem, which we had ten minutes to write. The poem had to include at least one proverb, saying, or cliche.
I was head over heels
Walking down the road, upright and normal.
How else would you walk?
The clouds were nailed securely to the sky
Instead of cottoning along under my feet.
I could not lick the feeling, though,
That something was whirring along gloriously out of whack
Because my heart was full like a blackberry
Ripe with the sweet richness
Of your lovely voice.
As a followup to this post, here’s more inanity from the sump-pump of the interwebs. Enjoy!
This is a series I’ve been contemplating for a while. As I collect more material, there will be followup posts. I hope you enjoy it!
Here is a recording I came across yesterday.
Listening to it was one of the few things that have left me speechless in my life.
Once you have listened to a few minutes of it, allow me to explain why I was speechless.
The modern paradigm of evolution has, by and large, attempted to rob us of any concept of objective beauty. If the world and all that is in it is not in some way a guided thing, if it developed on its own, then one would expect to see many fundamental, deep, and unsurpassable divides between species. There would be a fundamental incompatibility between the multitude of branching paths,just like technology of different generations.
This proves it wrong.
The crickets are singing in several octaves, but the scale they are using is the exact (and I mean perfectly) same eight-tone scale that Bach, Beethoven, Schutz, Mozart, Handel, Praetorius, Josquin de Prez, and any other classic composer used. Apart from accidentals (halfway points between pitches) the crickets are using our good old, Sound of Music do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do. It is a musical system of harmonic sounds that function together naturally: the world of sound is built so that these sounds actually belong together and work, just as certainly as a biochemical reaction or gravity. It’s built into the world.
How is this overlap between crickets and humans even possible? It’s a sound too fast for our ears to hear. It wasn’t our sound. Why should we expect to find it appealing, on an evolutionary framework? There’s simply no way for it to benefit us, or for us even to be aware of its existence.
But when we find it, it is like finding a painting on a rock in the middle of a forest. Someone left it there. It was supposed to be beautiful, and it was placed there intentionally, for us to find. Pure gift. It is as astonishing as the footprint in the sand was to Robinson Crusoe. We thought we were alone, and look: someone has been here the whole time.
Not only this, but the way it was found implies an even more organic connection between crickets and humans. Not only does the sound sound beautiful to both, but it becomes beautiful to us only when adjusted to match our lifespan. We didn’t just slow it down until it sounded good: there was a mathematical operation that occurred and it resulted in beauty. In logical form, it looks like this: [cricket music:cricket lifespan :: Human lifespan: ???]. There is a fundamental proportionality here, a concept that resonates far more with a medieval perspective on life than with our modern one. For the medievals, the world was structured according to proportions, mathematical regularity, and the world was a dance. The planetary spheres made music to the Lord. Everything was organized and that organization produced beauty and music. For them, these crickets would fit right in. For us, it is a sledgehammer to the brittle concrete of skepticism and reductionistic materialism. Both crickets and humans were made by the same God, a God who is beautiful. And that is why the crickets sound like choirs. Because they know to sing God’s praise. It was glory too fast for us, but we caught up. Our ears are tuned now a little better to hear those praises, and we must, if we value our humanity, learn to join in.
This here is a skit I scavenged from the internet, tweaked a bit, and presented at a talent show. It’s based on a book by Dom Deluise.
Charlie the Caterpillar: The Andies 2013
Hope you enjoy it!
This prefaces a short sketch about a new creature my room-mate and I thought up. It’s based off this short story: I always misspell the word “thanks” as “thnaks,” so I began wondering what a thnak would look like (on the same principle as the alot. http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html). I said to him, “well, it’s not a snack with a lisp,” and he said, “No, what if it is, like a little creature that everything snacks on,” and things kind of got hilarious from there. This little creature is irresistibly delicious, and is thus frightened of pretty much the whole world. Here’s the poem I wrote to honor the thnak.
Of all of God’s creatures, I pity the thnak:
He’s terrified all of the time.
For in all of the food-chains, he’s always the snack,
And tastes so delicious with lime.
He’s never about when a mealtime comes,
For he’s on every menu there is,
On the run – there he goes! with his heart in his toes,
With a whoosh and shriek and a whiz.
The taste of a thnak I could never turn down,
So delicious and charmingly light,
I apologize, thnaks, but we must face the facts:
You’re delicious. Pardon me. *Bite*