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06/01/2006: "THEORYLAND...an epic poem"
Our ambitious hero soared to success in Canto III; had a nervous breakdown
in Canto IV; now, in the concluding Canto, he's dazed and confused....
Canto V: DIRT
Another tea, and I see the pity
for me. The Dean stares into space,
anywhere but at my face.
Some try to be polite and formal
but all can tell I'm merely normal,
not a god, not a gorilla,
in Theory's rainbow, barely vanilla.
I could not possibly prove two equals one.
No, not a god at all and, God knows, no fun.
Glance and stammer, stammer and glance,
I apologize in advance
that I have traveled to Theory's dark heart
and come back a defective part.
Well, now that it's done
I dimly recall it was lots of fun
kicking colleagues down the slopes,
making the best look like dopes.
And being this new kind of necrophiliac,
roughly laying books on their back.
And taking sense behind the fence
to play Doctor...
Ah, there's rumor I was the best.
Prove East is West?
I can't even prove I'm not a pest.
I think l am.
Now I want to feel only dirt,
ordinary human hurt,
not Humanity's Hurt, which is easy,
but another human's hurt,
which always shakes me
helpless and queasy.
CHORUS
At Theory's ground zero,
where no birds chirp,
they eliminate the hero
and solemnize the burp.
But what was it all about, how did we begin?
Was this what we meant, what we hoped to intend?
Once we said, read the works and dearly love them,
now we say, shove them,
and read instead our boring Crit,
and read instead our boring Crit.
Once I too could sing
0000 that critical rag
that drapes everything in drag
so all's anomaly and confusion
and only one thing's real: illusion.
What's real now is that no co-eds sing,
certainly they do not sing for me.
I grow old. I'm a scold.
I have traveled into Theory's dark heart
and come back a defective part
or was one from the start.
E N D
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Read the whole poem on Theoryland.blogspot.com, Lit4u.com or
Improve-Education.org. Your comments are welcome. Bruce Price is a writer
and digital artist.
