roots

i grew up
on poe and python
shakespeare and star trek
i could rely on
then i grew
into an era of who

an anthology of poe
kept beside my bed
flowers darkly bred
would sprout inside my head
danse de mansion macabre
many deep dreams would rob

painting poems on the walls
peeling polypapered plaster
we could hear the ancient calls
cast in glass and alabaster
finding pamphlets ‘neath the lath
steered down a curious path

when they queried of our scrawlings
the lord of the manor proclaimed
stifled creativity hampers hatchlings
of this he could never be blamed
free expression can’t be tamed
our art need not be framed

echoing edgar’s eccentricities
pendulum cask and assorted gore
a mad marquis incurable disease
hear the heart beneath the floor
epitathed headstones rendered on chairs
spinning webs up abandoned stairs

your soul out with a sneeze
dark shadow on night’s plutonian shore
maimed mannequins cry hollow pleas
me wrapped in coffin with moans implore
though all just for show
as far as i know

it was from the bard
i learned to impart
though at the start it was hard
purple prose within my heart
like a wellspring once unlocked
words are flowers gently flocked

dwelling in an olden nook
immersed in jungle of game and book
spirited away by alistair cooke
gave the stories another look
when i fell one day for goodness sakes
into a proverbial pit of snakes

transfixed by the serpents’ show
meine schwester bär taught me how
what every poeholic should know
to transcribe the lines remembered now
recorded every episode on trusty old ampex
from zenith and nadir to catch every sketch

repeated rewinding to make every line stick
like terry dolittle of jumpin’ jack flash
that latter-day whoopi screaming at mick
some lines i would get while some i did trash
from pavlov’s liberty bell painted by gilliam
each week i visited the kingdom of thralldom

by then it was clear the disease sure would spread
the dashing of benny hill and beanstalks of goodies
but still it was pythons who lived in my head
(yea my head was a hinged bowl)
filled with parrots fish cats anne elk and half bees
before visiting the fawlty towers of booth and cleese
it was this that was why i knew all species of cheese

yet by the time i tuned shortwave
met mijn nederlandse zus
there were other worlds i had come to crave
of molecular beaming and doors that went whoosh
tales by coon roddenberry and the fountain of fontana
by lucas bixby and the rest of the blessed arcana

learning of panem et circenses of juvenal
reinstilling the bard rerealized
theme and meme most critical
every episode analyzed
turning old tales on gimbals
the work of tribbles and trimbles

adorned with illusion and ripe allusions
red shirts rendered in black and white
as style and tech of trek made its profusion
of worlds in space i would dream at night
built my fleet of rockets in accordance
with constitution blueprints and concordance

then through an age of almanac and atlas
i burst into nova nimoy and sagan too
like the chanted calculations of logopolis
it seems i was destined for doctor who
armed with wacky wits and sonic screwdriver
the scarved one foiled the talons of every conniver

caught in the matrix long before neo
traveled twenty-seven dimensions relativistic
jelly belly filled journeys of death-shunning hero
mastered the humorous mixed scientific
flamboyant wanderer not bound by the clock
a timeless traveler in the vein of sherlock

if we are what we eat
these are all in my blood
in every cell from nose to feet
sometimes a trickle others a flood
these roots of my youth
feed my branches’ blue booth

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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