The Beautiful Impossible 8-20-26
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A Vision of Camelot
Above your dark and twisting
Tangled trail of cobwebs
Where blinding mists
Sting like shame
Shining towers rise!
They capture the daystar’s fingers
Caressing
These bright crowns of covenant
With golden diadems of amber fire
So bright
The sky ignites the coming sunrise
With vows in brilliant glow.
Gaze deep into this heart
Of crystal fire
Transfixed
Enthralled
Transformed
By yearning
For the refining core
Where secret fires forge dreams
And visions meld into the mystic
Birthing spellbound castles
This unspoiled siren’s song,
A wingless bird of hope,
Flies
Flawless
Just above
Just beyond
Beyond your fingertips.
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In a forest named Camelot lush and green,
lived a gray squirrel, quick and keen.
His name was Arthur, a sprightly furry lad,
with delusions of grandeur, in his armor well clad.
One sunny day, beneath a mighty oak tree,
he spied a sword as big as big could be.
This must be Excalibur! Arthur cried,
with his nut-stained paws and eyes so wide.
Excalibur, you are MY mighty blade.
I’m King Arthur, be not dismayed!
No longer am I just a critter small,
I’ll rule this realm, beloved by all!
With tiny paws, he climbed the base,
and faced the sword with noble grace.
Farsighted, Art grasped a twig instead of steel
believing he was embracing Merlin’s ideals.
I pulled it out! he squealed with a cheer,
From this stone, my royal fate is clear!
For in this wood, I’ll take my regal stand,
A squirrel king am I, of this fair forest land!
So raise a goblet of cheer for Art, so spry.
With twig in paw, his kingdom no one can deny.
In his world of quixotic, leafy dreams,
Arthur reigns supreme, or so it seems!
I tried to reason with the Lady of Shalott,
"Be content! Don’t be so distraught!
You may long for the world of Lancelot and Guinevere ~
but let me tell you what’s about to happen there ~
they're about to lose everything they've got."
In the name of a certain Kennedy
I hope you'll take me seriously
Ask not what 2024 can do for you
Ask what you can add
~ and follow through
Some claimed that Camelot was noble,
a place built upon the stony ground
of good-intentions,
it was new and fangled,
it was progressive
in a time of little progress.
I have seen it, I was there,
always there was the choking fog
of intrigue,
even the unintrigued grabbed their throats
least subversive thoughts escaped them.
Old King Arthur was deliriously inane,
the people pitied him and did not love him,
some said he was an alien lizard being,
some claimed that he was soulless,
or so it seemed,
and yet he was forever babbling
about restoring the soul of the Kingdom.
Corruption grew like a malignant Ivy.
The women of Camelot were constantly angry,
their anger made them fat with a wishful bile.
Many females wanted to be men,
yet strangely enough they hated the menfolk.
The men were fragile and sensitive,
Merlin had cursed them
with the fey magic of 'Low T'.
Trust me, it was a great day
when the kingdom fell
to the massed hordes of disaffected
and disgruntled Goths.
Fresh blood was drunk from royal goblets,
children with wooden swords
chased the pork out of feral gangs
of squealing hogs
until they were as nakedly pink
as plucked chickens.
Mad, they agreed
out of his mind
off of his rocker
flipped his wig
lost all his marbles ...
There was the governor
posing in the center of town
stark-raving nude
neither embarrassment
nor an ounce of shame
Perched uneasily atop
a royal walking-horse
a wizard's tricorn atop his head
-- or was it a dunce's cap
Insanity opened its mouth
the sun set abruptly ~
the moon and stars came out
Kneeling with sword raised to the sky,
As the blade glistens from,
The shadow of the moon with desire,
In respect of the god's above.
Only a spoken language,
All do understand.
Pleading, asking, begging,
To help rescue his kingdom.
The cries to Zeus with fire raging,
From the blade of Excalibur.
The prophesy is coming to light,
Camelot is falling.
Yet, the holy sword, Excalibur calls to the gods.
Arthur kneels to Arthur's stone begging,
Merlin and the gods to save Camelot.
A scorching bright light descends from the sky,
As young Arthur shields his eyes,
When he opens them standing before him,
Are the gods of 12.
Somewhere in the Andes,
llama mama drama
plays out when he discovers
he’s not the baby daddy,
“I guess alpaca now!”
O Bactrian, my champion,
the burdens you must bear.
Unwanted eyes and forceful tries,
to scale the heights up there.
No dromedary would you be,
were I to cut a lump from thee.
Since forming in the amnion,
your inner parts and ways,
you’ll always be a Bactrian,
beneath thy visage gazed.
A camel formed from the divine,
who also bears a sorrowed line,
the image, marvelous, you bear,
is worthy of all praise.
So shed thy burdens and draw near;
may halcyon be thy days.
O Camelot! O Camelot!
The winds have changed, the land got hot!
Though dromedaries are quite neat,
A bactrian's hard to unseat,
And so the knights still joust a lot.
At banquet feasts, the men are found,
And like the table, they are round.
The reason they are heavy-set:
Girls now see knighthood as a threat;
Who lives life chaste and honor-bound?
Sir Galahad, a handsy lad;
His boasting made the maidens mad.
Now saddled with the cursed #metoo,
Chivalrous days of riding through,
He gardens, in his armor clad.
And then there is Sir Lancelot
Sad, as he aged, he weirder got.
Exchanging quests for lowly toils,
He traveled far just lancing boils,
Relieving pustulence and rot.
And Arthur lost what he held dear:
His lovely bride, his Guinevere
The evil witch, Morgana Fay
Transitioned her without her say,
And as a knight she does appear.
O Camelot! I just cannot
Believe the damage time has wrought.
And now the lady of the lake:
A charlatan, a fraud, a fake!
Ran off with Merlin, on his yacht.
Camelot Bride had always been bird -friendly, and she loved elves.
When they discovered she was marrying in the woods, they celebrated.
There was a huge argument about who should help with her veil.
The cardinals and chickadees wanted the responsibility, but the elves insisted.
Camelot Bride suggested they take turns, and so they did.
Flitting in and out, dancing and prancing all the way to her groom.
He knew he was getting a treasure as he watched the fey fighting over her.
And he was.
The moon calls to me,
In visions I see of a woman,
Who whispers and waits for an answer.
A beautiful woman in a white dress,
I hear her voice in my head,
Urging me to come back.
I see her in my dreams my heart breaks,
As I can never find her.
I'm jolted right out of my sleep,
As I finally awake I know where she's at.
I walk in looking for her,
Yet All I see are mountains of,
People wearing white.
Deflated all I can do is look into space,
Then I hear my name.
I turn around looking into,
Those deep beautiful eyes,
Those eyes from long ago.
I found you and you will always,
Be my knight in shining armor,
Except your missing Excalibur.
I know exactly where he is.
Come England and Arthur,
Awaits our return then you look,
Into my eyes as we kiss.
Cam where is my ring??
Lauren, the queen has your ring,
Did you forget she's Arthur's,
Granddaughter, she's waiting for us.
Come my love Camelot awaits,
Their true Queen.
Reigning in his own demise,
the alcoholic stumbles
Falling from the ramparts high,
hard upon the ground
A monarchy of lost regret,
in anger’s shame he crumbles
Trapped inside a broken dream
—heartache’s thorny crown
(Rosemont College: July, 2021)
November 22, 1963
Camelot came crashing down
From a sniper's single bullet
aimed all too perfectly
A lone gunman took the life
of John F. Kennedy
And stole the heart of America
innocent nevermore to be
Fierce mythical dragons
Legends galore
Galloping determined steeds,
Knighthood and more.
King Arthur’s round table
Loves of Queen Guinevere
Come to the library, friend.
They will always be near.
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