A Baptist Observes Mardi Gras

[Truerenigma]

[christopherSea' pid='138745' dateline='1378727169']
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,
yikes! New title needed. Maybe "the babtist goes to marti gras?

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade
and disavow these dark sheep
who vandalize the twilight.

what happened to the Rhyme?
After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

and lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch. that's about the uglies phrase/line I've ever heard. It doesn't exactly roll of the tongue.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
while shaking canes and rattles,
snaking along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith could never thrive in. why the in? Completely unnecessary.

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2 Thanks gents!

-----------------------------------------------------------
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep,
as they vandalize twilight.

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

to lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in.


Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.
[/quote]

Chris, this is just too Preachy/opinionated. Why work so hard? Why not let the creepy imagery do the work for you? No need to stand on rhetoric.

[tectak]

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,Much cleaner.

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep, How? How do the backs of gods disavow?
as they vandalize twilight. Too many these,theys ,theirs, buts

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine routepilgrimage as such a dedicated noun doesn't read well as a verb.

to lurch The Big-Uneasy As you claim prior on "big-uneasy", Chris, what do you want it to mean. I ask because I do not know
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch. debauch is the verb. Debauchery is the noun...no exceptions

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.I like this stanza but I am getting overwhelmed by the theys and theirs. You must cut down on fillers. It is not easy because of the narrators location in all of this...it leans towards reportage. Try:
Dancing the evening lifeless
with shaking canes and rattles;
snaking along warm asphalt
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in. AAAARRRGGGHHHH! Where faith can not subsist! ....but do you mean subsist or exist?

Yes. It is better. I for one am pleased you are sticking with it. You still have issues with word use but one thing at a time.
Best,
tectak

Thanks for sticking with me master!

'nihilistic debauch' was coined by Kurt Vennegut VONNEGUTn his novel 'Cat's Cradle': "When I returned to my apartment … I found [it] wrecked by a nihilistic debauch. Krebbs was gone; but, before leaving, he had run up three-hundred-dollars’ worth of long-distance calls, set my couch on fire in five places, killed my cat and my avocado tree, and torn the door off my medicine cabinet..." If it's good enough for him, it should be swell with you No. It's not good enough. No exceptions and Vonnegut is why! The noun usage is debatable, hence the existence of debauchery, unless genre-specific. Vonnegut uses words intrinsically selective to his style. Vonnegut we, you and I, are not (but for you, I may use orgy)! I got you on 'pilgrimage' too: pilgrimage intransitive verb pilgrimaged pilgrimag·ing Definition of PILGRIMAGE: to go on a pilgrimage mir web. As I said, we are in to semantics here. Would you ever use "pilgrimaging"? I conceed on the understanding that you will change it

You know it's the Gods fronts doing the disavowing (I'll look at the wording). I'll work on the butts for ya too. (_i_)

New Orelean's, where my bother lived for a time, is called 'The Big Easy' because of the slower paced living and low pressure life style. I am using 'The Big Uneasy' to convey how that image is overturned by the bizzarre shenanigans on Mardi Gras. Watch the reality show 'Cops'. They have at least a half of a dozen episodes busting fights in this streets on Fat Tuesday. It's a good sarcastic pun and not cliche.

Love that edit of the penultimate stanza tom! But take it easy, I know that last line is off. (Didn't you see the 'in progress sign' above? Stop speeding in a work zone!) On point, I wanted to end with 'in' or some near rhyme with beacon to have a cleaner sound close. Instead of not existing at all, I was thinking maybe it could not survive there. Oh, maybe thrive in!

I shall return with some edits, thanks chief!
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[ChristopherSea]

[christopherSea' pid='138745' dateline='1378727169']
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,
yikes! New title needed. Maybe "the babtist goes to marti gras?

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade
and disavow these dark sheep
who vandalize the twilight.

what happened to the Rhyme?
After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

and lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch. that's about the uglies phrase/line I've ever heard. It doesn't exactly roll of the tongue.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
while shaking canes and rattles,
snaking along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith could never thrive in. why the in? Completely unnecessary.

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2 Thanks gents!

-----------------------------------------------------------
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep,
as they vandalize twilight.

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

to lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in.


Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Chris, this is just too Preachy/opinionated. Why work so hard? Why not let the creepy imagery do the work for you? No need to stand on rhetoric.
[/quote]

Thanks trueE! Good advice and the same recommendation was made by Rowens. It was not supposed to sound as righteous as this, but I believe that the piece was bastardized from dozens of edits to answer all of the queries from my critics.

The near rhymes are coincidence except the last one that you don't like. I burrowed the 'nihilistic debauch' from Kurt Vonnegut Jr, a favorite during adolescence. However, I guess, I will change it for you and Tom!

Once I iron out all of the language problems tectak had with it I will go back and maybe add a stanza or re-hone some of the lines for more eeriness.

As for the title, I just went with Carnival so folks know what it was about, when 'The Big Uneasy' was taken out for a while. I do like the thought that you put into your titles.

Ok, this morning a new edit is up thanks to your help!!

[ellajam]

Thanks to all who posted here, it is a great lesson in poetry, critiquing and editing. Leaving it up for less experienced writers like myself is a great gift. The difference between versions is striking. So well done.

[Todd]

Love the title change.

Minor comment: gods need to be lowercase or in quotes or both.

That would be a baptist perspective.

[ChristopherSea]

Love the title change.

Minor comment: gods need to be lowercase or in quotes or both.

That would be a baptist perspective.

Great, thanks Todd!

[rowens]

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

It's your poem, your voice, or your narrator's voice and perspective. I still don't think they care for immortalizing that night or most any night. Maybe sometimes. But that would just be part of their pettiness; maybe a Baptist would have that perspective about them though, and ridicule that pettiness if he was willing to give them that much thought, and most likely he wouldn't. So fine.

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade
and disavow these dark sheep
who vandalize the twilight.

Which Gods? The rhetorical, straw gods of some abstract paganism? Well, that's most likely the case anyway. The dark sheep would be appropriate rhetoric from a Baptist perspective. The self-righteous attitude that can't help but use his religious terminology even in describing what seems so far from his beliefs. An earlier version of this claims that God turns His back on these revellers as He does His own; which makes me think you're not totally in sync with the Baptist narrator, and that he's just an invention that came out of the multiple revisions. That, and the fact that you've admitted that several times. But I guess I should only critique one version at a time, though they all are relevant to your poem.




After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

Feasting like gluttons is a common enough expression, the way it's worded, its meaning. Though they are gluttons. Maybe not all the time, so you're comparing them to constant gluttons. That's not a big deal. The word "After" and similar stage directions, I think, add a lot to the stiffness I talked about before. Then again, I've been paying little attention to whatever form this poem might be working with. Still, the words like "After" weaken it.



and lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their neo-pagan orgy.

Lucid somehow comes through, but seems buried under so many negatives. Lucidity is the enemy, so the posh Baptist is correct, but merely correct.



They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
while shaking canes and rattles,
snaking along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
in which faith could never thrive.

Like many religious folk, this Baptist does his religion great injustice. Admitting that such a paltry neon advertised building could defeat faith. But the voice you've taken up works better for the tone of this. Creating the mouthpiece to do the dirty work seems to be the effort now.

[Truerenigma]

I know that the poem is not the poet, but the new title really helps clear it all up. Shedding light on a point of view is not the same as blessing it. Thinking of it as a babtist observation just lightens it up a little, whether you agree our not. And now we don't even need to decide whether we agree. There's no longer any need to argue with the poem.

Baptists will laugh chuckle and say "that's so true!", and others will laugh and say, "they really do think like that!"

Opinion is opinion, and calling it such let's us know that the author is not trying to brow beat us, or assume we agree, or even that he agrees, just saying "it's true, some people do think this way, and that's life, what can i say, whattya gonna do? You can change it."

Everybody knows that arguing with a baptist is pointless!

[ChristopherSea]

I know that the poem is not the poet, but the new title really helps clear it all up. Shedding light on a point of view is not the same as blessing it. Thinking of it as a babtist observation just lightens it up a little, whether you agree our not. And now we don't even need to decide whether we agree. There's no longer any need to argue with the poem.

Baptists will laugh chuckle and say "that's so true!", and others will laugh and say, "they really do think like that!"

Opinion is opinion, and calling it such let's us know that the author is not trying to brow beat us, or assume we agree, or even that he agrees, just saying "it's true, some people do think this way, and that's life, what can i say, whattya gonna do? You can change it."

Everybody knows that arguing with a baptist is pointless!

Agreed TrueE, your suggestion for the title is perfect and saved the piece on it's multiple edit slide from mocking crowd behavior to more of a preaching rant. Once all the screws are tightened on this, I may well sculpt it further into the creepy ream as you and rowens have suggested.

---

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

It's your poem, your voice, or your narrator's voice and perspective. I still don't think they care for immortalizing that night or most any night. Maybe sometimes. But that would just be part of their pettiness; maybe a Baptist would have that perspective about them though, and ridicule that pettiness if he was willing to give them that much thought, and most likely he wouldn't. So fine.

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade
and disavow these dark sheep
who vandalize the twilight.

Which Gods? The rhetorical, straw gods of some abstract paganism? Well, that's most likely the case anyway. The dark sheep would be appropriate rhetoric from a Baptist perspective. The self-righteous attitude that can't help but use his religious terminology even in describing what seems so far from his beliefs. An earlier version of this claims that God turns His back on these revellers as He does His own; which makes me think you're not totally in sync with the Baptist narrator, and that he's just an invention that came out of the multiple revisions. That, and the fact that you've admitted that several times. But I guess I should only critique one version at a time, though they all are relevant to your poem.




After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

Feasting like gluttons is a common enough expression, the way it's worded, its meaning. Though they are gluttons. Maybe not all the time, so you're comparing them to constant gluttons. That's not a big deal. The word "After" and similar stage directions, I think, add a lot to the stiffness I talked about before. Then again, I've been paying little attention to whatever form this poem might be working with. Still, the words like "After" weaken it.



and lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their neo-pagan orgy.

Lucid somehow comes through, but seems buried under so many negatives. Lucidity is the enemy, so the posh Baptist is correct, but merely correct.



They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
while shaking canes and rattles,
snaking along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
in which faith could never thrive.

Like many religious folk, this Baptist does his religion great injustice. Admitting that such a paltry neon advertised building could defeat faith. But the voice you've taken up works better for the tone of this. Creating the mouthpiece to do the dirty work seems to be the effort now.

Thanks for stopping back for another look rowens. I believe they are immortalizing the night/event in this sense, first it goes on for days and the police have to close down the event each night just to clear the streets for daily business to ensue, second they keep the tradition annually. The definition of immortalize is cause something to be remembered forever via ceremony, etc. Many begin thinking of next year's party and costume once this year's is over. I feel that I try to immortalize Christmas with all the traditions I go through and have passed on to my daughter and I don't even go to church. I also don't go dancing in a crowd with a santa suit on either, which is consistent with me attending a Mardi Gras or New Years Eve party, but not taking it to the streets.

You are right, I have vacillated between god and gods, as it is a Christian, pagan and agnostic celebration. I'll try to work on that stiffness once I set this framework and let it stew for a bit. Also, painting a more creepy feeling to the evening would be a next step, as both you and trueE have suggested.

Cheers/Chris

[Truerenigma]

Why not? Mardi gras creeps me out. N.O. In general. Last time I went there i got robbed. And then in the same night took a wrong turn down an alley near bourbon st.and was accosted by a drug dealer trying to sell us crack. Then when he recognized my friend he followed us around trying to get an autograph. The night didn't end well. To this day I ask my friend all the time, "why didn't you just sign the damn dollar bill?" He always replies, "why didn't you just buy some damn crack?"

[ChristopherSea]

Why not? Mardi gras creeps me out. N.O. In general. Last time I went there i got robbed. And then in the same night took a wrong turn down an alley near bourbon st.and was accosted by a drug dealer trying to sell us crack. Then when he recognized my friend he followed us around trying to get an autograph. The night didn't end well. To this day I ask my friend all the time, "why didn't you just sign the damn dollar bill?" He always replies, "why didn't you just buy some damn crack?"

Oh boy, that does sound harrowing! My brother read "On the Road," by Jack Kerouac and hitchhiked around the country at 17. He was sneaking into a theatre in New Orleans at night to sleep. One of the actors discovered him and invited him to a party. They we all eating magic mushrooms over a weekend. These theatrical types were into pyramids and Buddhism and they like, typical for the early 1970s. When the folks went to work, my bother started renovating their house. He painted one room black with gold stars and began making them a hanging chair roped in a pyramidal fashion. He blew their minds, so they invited him to stay. He ended up getting a job renovating historical homes eventually.

[Truerenigma]

And people do act funny in a crowd don't they? The group mentality is so much different than mentality of the individual.

[ChristopherSea]

And people do act funny in a crowd don't they? The group mentality is so much different than mentality of the individual.

Agreed on the mob scenes, most of it is scary, especially the emboldened sense that leads to looting, rioting, fighting and the like.