Carnalville: Revised! And Two New Crow Poems! (They are not the brothers anymore!)

I think that I have always loved the poem Carnalville because Kellie and I loved the show so much when we first watched the series Carnivale. Sadly, in a way very similar to Breaking Bad, the main attraction of the show was the suspense that it built as you wondered and worried what was going to happen to your favorite or hated characters. Kellie and I have tried to rewatch both Carnivale and Breaking Bad without success. When you know what will happen to the characters, every bit of the suspense is gone--and there isn't really much else to character-driven stories. If you haven't watched Carnivale, find it. The show will keep your eyes glued to the TV and have you wondering what is going to happen next--until you watch it through all the way. You'll wish it wasn't over, but there was nowhere left to go.

So, why did I revise the poem Carnalville? Well, I am kind of figuring out that I prefer verse that isn't rigidly metrical. I like a little bit of altering line length. I still stick primarily with iambs for the rhythm, but throwing a dactyl or some other multi-syllable foot seems to give verse a more of a Ravenesque quality--as in Poe's The Raven. I do not agree with those who believe that poetry should sound conversational. I have never heard two people talk in rhythmic, rhymed conversations. Poetry is an art. It is raised above normal conversation. It has a special place in the language and its use of language. Therefore, if anything, I have made the poem less formal and more song-like. I haven't read it enough to know if I like it better this way. See what you think. ENJOY!

Carnalville

The city trades cravings like poker chips

With vanity driving its schemes.

It mimics a bawdy apocalypse

With icons of lust in its themes.

Contortionists twist on disjointed hips,

Lost children of dragons breathe fire,

I lick a crumb of fried cake from your lips,

Whetting your stifled desire.

Coins tinkle and jingle from crystal plates,

Darts ricochet off limp balloons,

Memory tiles turn without any mates,

And fortunes are forfeit to runes.

The fates seem so fixed, the odds so askance,

That few ever come here wanting to dance,

And nobody leaves a lover of chance.

My eyes are tempted by two ample breasts

On a minx too small for their size,

“Push the right button,” she sweetly suggests,

“And lady will get big surprise.”

“Try it,” you say with an excited squeal,

Unaware that I am being seduced.

She touches my arm as she primes the wheel,

And pleasing tingles are produced.

“Use all your fingers,” she purrs in my ear,

“It’s the secret to winning the game.

The pleasure of love may not come right here,

But lady will like all the same.”

In rhythmic circles, my fingers caress

The smooth button as I study her eyes.

When I see them widen, I firmly press,

And you and I slip away with a prize.

New lovers grope madly on a wild ride

That spins through time like a comet,

Yet they stumble away half satisfied

Smelling of pin grease and vomit.

Calliope music prods them along,

And they sway with the pulse of the throng,

But they don’t know the words of the song.

A pot-toking carny in a Ratt shirt

Admires your form from the smoke.

You’re not aware that he’s trying to flirt

But your cheeks show the fire awoke.

I fan the flames with a kiss to your neck,

 And you purr with a self-assured sound.

He leers as we leave the ride’s wobbly deck

To the tune of Ratt’s Round and Round.

Some lovers lose faith in illusions.

Trust cracks in the medleys of light.

Lovers wrestle with puerile confusions

On the sullied blank sheets of the night.

You and I slip away from this stark mess

To assurance our sense understands

To unite in chaotic darkness

With practiced and diligent hands.

Carnalville dissolves when the sun glows,

With its devious games, lights, and faces.

It can only last as a dream goes.

In the pure light of day, it erases.

Why was it here? Everyone knows.

It helps us to fill empty spaces,

And we’d all go to hell for those places.

I think that all of my regular readers are aware that my three crow brothers deserted me some time ago. This spring and summer, I have watched as single crows or pairs of crows stayed around the park and fairgrounds for a day or two and then disappeared. For the last two weeks now, a new family of crows has been around the park and the city pond, not so much at the fairground like the others. This "family" consists of one very large crow, two or three medium-sized crows, and one rather small one. As one of the two ditties below suggests, I really didn't pay much attention to them for a while because I assumed they would leave within a matter of days. So far, they have stayed, and I seem them consistently. I must look at the website for Corvids again because I forgot how to tell a female crow from a male crow. After all, who really needs to know that but a crow? Anyhow, I will keep you up to date on what I find out--probably through verse. I hope that you are entertained by the two introductions to our new MURDER of crows. As always, ENJOY!

The Brothers Are Replaced

There are some new crows at the park.

They’ve been around for days.

I haven’t parsed their genders yet,

Their families, or their ways.

Quite honestly, I let them be,

For I could not conceive

That these new crows would hang around.

I thought that they would leave.

Now, I have noticed five of them.

Most often, there are three.

They often hang out by the pond

Up in the white oak tree.

Today, the biggest one by far

Sat on a picnic table

And stared at us as we walked by

As close as he was able.

But when he flew, the rest dashed too

As if they were all chased.

I think that now. I’m not sure how.

The brothers are replaced.

They’re relieved as daily muses,

For no ghosts can play those parts.

The brothers won’t return again,

But they’ll linger in our hearts.

What They Don’t Know

Yesterday, I paid attention

To the new crows at the park.

Then, I looked for them this morning

And I’m wondering in the dark.

Were they off pecking at breakfast?

Had they merely slept too late?

No, they’re hanging with the buzzards,

Preparing for today’s debate.

“Caw,” affirms first speaker crow.

“Caw,” agrees some other.

“Caw,” I hear a buzzard say.

“Oh, god,” I think, “Why bother?”

They are a one-party government

And all seem to agree

That any reckless plan will work

If it doesn’t profit me,

But it won’t help you either

Even if you are a crow,

They’d rather kill all living things

Than admit what they don’t know.

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