Tom Mcmurray Poet Iambic Pentameter

Eternal Thirst (Jousting With Joyce)

How scenic is phrenetic fantasy 
While fulminating in the manic mind? 
It's hidden in synaptic revelry, 
Articulated, yes, but hard to find. 

The minor absolution one demands 
From higher born authority than self 
Is often held by strangers in strange lands 
Or brazen, raisin boxes on the shelf. 

The madness of the mad though sad is not 
Without a nod transcendent, in a way; 
Which forces Joyce to ponder over plot 
And not which punctuation to display. 

Now take your time and read Ulysses first, 
Before the Wake of Finnegan is shown; 
For Finnegan becomes eternal thirst 
Where cognitive resolve remains unknown. 

Now bitter battles still are fought with fire 
In hallowed halls of higher learning fame 
Where academic's fight with fierce desire 
To elevate James Joyce's brilliant name. 

Finnegan's Wake can make a man go mad; 
Incomprehensible at best some say. 
Such genius has a way of causing sad 
Reverberations all along the way. 

So read a Portrait of the Artist first 
Then add Ulysses if you have the time. 
But Finnegan's Wake? Unquenchable thirst! 
A book to blow your brain and bind your mind.

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