Written November 18, 2013
I'm a postmodernist in an existential environment
Wondering what to do with nothing
What's the meaning of life?
To be swallowed up by entropy
Imploding what it means to be alive
Watch it rain down a marvelous parade
Of lights and sounds of what surrounds
To celebrate a Pound of Pynchon's pithy
Two words one line
No meaning at all
Canvases as bare as the backs of bureaucrats
Filling in the footsteps of giants
Going toe to toe with Pynchon
Feeling fists that Pound
But it's too bad
Got knocked out in the first round
So as gravity pulls me down
And rainbows surround
Take me out by the crying lot
Hang me by the tree that forgives
Along the sidewalk that never ends
Categories:
pynchon, environment, life, philosophy, poetry,
Form: Lyric
(And other steam of consciousness writers)
Trying to read this BBbbbllllizzard of words on the page
of this damned author who posed as sage
Who mystifies the simplest songs
and amorphousises way to long
for the rational mind to make a
connection with the gist
the pace the race
the common place.
The form so deformed as to be un analyzable
to be un surmisable
even for the daft.
The contrite are right
when they refuse to take a bite
in fright for to read such a Bliizardddddddd
of words on the page
does nothing but
put one
in a
daze.
Categories:
pynchon, on writing and words,
Form: Rhyme