Thursday, November 19, 2009

Legends of the Cliché Temple

So I’m in this ancient temple, and I can tell you
that it looks exactly like what you picture in your head,
because ancient temples are so typical.
There are things I can’t read written on the walls,
but of course, if I were in a movie,
there would be someone with me
who somehow does know how to read this obscure text.
They would translate by moving
the flaming torch slowly along the walls
as the enigmatic carvings tell of something truly ominous
(because ancient temples always have
ominous things on their walls).

let’s say I manage to unlock a secret chamber
in this already secret temple
by putting together
the Shrine of the Silver Monkey
for having only three parts,
is so much harder than it looks,
and I regret yelling at those kids on TV
for not being able to do it faster),
and in this chamber there is
a jewel-encrusted box.
Well, one would hope that this box contains
the Crystal Skull or magic lamp or whatever,
but deep inside I have this nagging fear that
the jewel-encrusted box does not contain what I seek—
that it will instead hold a riddle or clue as to the real location
of whatever wonderful artifact I am questing for,
because ancient temples are disappointing in that way.

And it’s probably laden with traps
and this temple is probably going to implode
as soon as I open the box,
temples are made by really sadistic assholes
who seem to get a real kick out of knowing
that thousands of years later,
they’re gonna squish some unfortunate adventurer
by dropping boulders on him

So why am I even here? Why am I buying into this cliché?
Ever seen Indiana Jones?
He didn’t give a shit
about rationality or survival.
He just went with it.
And if a boulder came rolling his way,
he ran.
I wanna live like that.
I want to suspend disbelief
like the hopeful rope
that suspends an unlucky explorer
a pit of snakes

 I want to live like that.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

God Shatters Grandmother's Fingers

Hands so brittle I fear they'll shatter when they squeeze my own,
Fervently thumbing through prayer beads
Hundreds and hundreds of times,
Racing like rickshaws through Bangladesh...

"Do your bones ever crack?"

"Only when God wants them to."

Friday, September 4, 2009

I wish I could be like the men of Legends--

I wish I could be like the men of Legends--

Unbreakable flesh and bone,
Muscles of marble stone,
A statue with a leaf
Between my legs for modesty--

be Strong, I mean--


Have admirers at my beck and call,
Looks to make Adonis pall,
Hair of curly naïveté
Crowned with the laurels of wisemen--

be Beautiful, you see--


Known on Olympus and far beyond,
Kept in memories ever fond,
Referenced in stone tablet texts
And scrolls found lifetimes after--

be Remembered, really--


above all,

Keep the Fates and Muses at odds

With wit enough to unmake gods.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Tell me, sweet---

Tell me, sweet--
What will you eat
When I am old and dry?

Won't cook, or bake
Your carrot cake
When I'm no longer spry.

Tell me, honey--
How will money
The march of time deny?

I'll hack and wheeze,
And wobble my knees,
Knit sweaters on my thigh.

Tell me, dear--
Why do you fear
The fact we all will die?

My bones will crack,
I'll break my back,
And beside you I will lie.