06-28-2014, 05:16 AM
Owned
I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity
between what was too real,
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost revealing his true self,
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell.
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life,
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone,
and little brown women would bring him
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin.
–Erthona
©2014
I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity
between what was too real,
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost revealing his true self,
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell.
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life,
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone,
and little brown women would bring him
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin.
–Erthona
©2014
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.