Friday, December 10, 2010

Combatwords, December 10, 2010: Logos and Karma

Combatwords, December 10, 2010: Logos and Karma

Is there such a thing as cosmic justice? I don't mean from a theistic perspective (but you can choose that), rather from a deistic or atheistic angle. Do actions matter on an ontological level? If so, don't thoughts and ideas matter too? Or is everything self-referential? Our meaning is meaningful to us alone? I think it's possible to be an atheist and still believe there's an unseen meta-structure to the universe. But the idea of cosmic justice is compelling, isn't it? I think karma is probably bs, but maybe it's real and there's some complex set of rules behind it. After all, some jerks never get their comeuppance. That's a shame. Hell, that's probably the cause of thwarted rage—which as we all know results in violence, thus making a whole new generation of jerks. Maybe there's some cosmic explanation? Play around with the theme, I don't really have an exact notion.

Combat Expiration: 12/13/2010 12am PST

Critique Expiration: 12/14/2010 12am PST

Bonuses/Penalties: +2 if posted by 6pm PST 12/10/2010, +1 if posted by 12am PST 12/11/2010, -1 if posted by 6am 12/13/2010, -2 if posted by 12pm 12/13/2010

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  1. With a belly full of rice and soy sauce
    I reach for the fortune cookie
    Half hoping it will say something crazy
    Like my dick with explode like a fragmentation grenade
    Of Swedish Fish candy and room temperature lemonade
    But I know there isn't enough room on that little fortune cookie paper
    For a message that long
    Instead the tiny white scroll says something that wrinkles my brow
    'Your luck is about to turn around'
    I ball the little missive up to the size of a spit wad
    Flick it to the far corner of the room
    Watch it skip to a stop in a puddle of something
    My luck is about to turn around sounds pretty ominous
    Considering I just got laid for the first time in three months
    That I have sweet job, and all my bills are paid
    So it's pretty clear to me that my luck is on the upstroke
    But now that's all about to change
    Fucking fortune cookie writer
    Thinks that just because I'm eating Chinese food
    My life could get better

  2. Ad-lib the Soliloquy

    Halfway through rehearsals,
    you throw the pages down,
    watching them flutter to the stage,
    and stomp on them,
    hurling invectives into the darkness
    aiming for the director sitting out there
    unseen in the third row.
    You gripe that this part is beneath you,
    that the dialogue is trite and unrealistic,
    that the monologues are moronic,
    that your character’s actions are baffling,
    with motivations you find incomprehensible.
    You curse the incompetent hack
    who penned such tripe,
    forgetting for the moment
    that this tired, derivative script
    was written entirely
    by you.

  3. Gavrilo Princip II [Combatwords Poem, December 11, 2010]

    I was late to the riot; my housemate detained me.
    She needed the rent, said she couldn't support me.
    'Later,' I promised, then kissed her and vanished.
    At the drop, there was nothing, not even
    A note, so I borrowed the pistol
    Dealers have stashed in the dumpster
    And I biked to the center
    Of desperate students
    Holding my weapon
    Like my vomit,
    But royals
    Passed me

  4. The headlines are all safely in the back of my mind now
    Resting in the high altitude darkness of the cheap seats
    Even if the camera of my attention glides upon them
    They will not be seen

    When the second plane hit the tower
    It raised standing armies of hair
    I looked to the cloud of concrete almost praying with anticipation
    For a horsemen of the apocalypse to come tearing out

    It has been many years, and still no hoof sounds
    Just tanks through desert sand and well meaning bumper stickers
    The armies of hair, mounted on goosebumps, have left for home
    There was nothing more to feed them

    Not even rockets from North Korea
    Or the most violent riots in recent memory
    Could keep them enlisted for a second longer
    It was all or nothing

    They rose up to be struck down
    Not cracked down the center of the head with a police baton
    They lived to be consumed
    Devoured in the glory of divine retribution

  5. Poetic justice? I’ll be damned,
    I know I wanted it so bad -
    My foes to fall by God’s own hand
    To not just be an idle boast

    Poetic justice – will I find
    it written in a twisted script?
    Or will it just be used to bind,
    to force me not to jump the rift?

    Poetic justice – will it come –
    like mist out of the humid air
    Or will it strike me from behind
    Just as I cross Trafalgar Square?

    I never in the least expect
    poetic justice to be served
    So when I do elect my Gods
    I’ll will be fair to all concerned

    Poetic justice, good and fair,
    I'm sorry, here is your refrain:
    If justice is to fill the air
    I think there first must be some rain