OK, so, if you're here, you can help me. I have posted the same poem with two different endings. Mind leaving a comment and telling me which formatting decision you agree with, or if there's another more graceful route out of this poem? Thanks!
shadow man parks his
mars-red benz, looking
fresh, salivating at
my best friends.
so we start bangin' our
sticks and stones
on the trees and roads,
songs singin' praise
of the snake-skin
smile of the shiny-goat-man
then prada frown rolls the
window down, lights a
smoke, sticks around,
and we stand our ground
& he starts making promises.
& we start thinking less of him.
& he starts up his car and
pistons pump and he is
thrusting, oh,
"i've been watching you
hatch, dear friends, you,
vigorous-claw and leather
walls, you know what's
good. i smell maple
bacon cookin', i can taste
all that sweet fat. so
you boys call me up
when you are
done fuckin' around.
i will fly you
outta this one-horse
town - on my jet plane."
he's got that jet plane!
i always wanted to
fly across the world on
my very own jet plane
in a real-gone-haze
those over-thing days
five young men on
a shadow island; but
none of them ever
did sit down and get
through lord of the flies
shadow man stops at
the video store on
his way back home to
his old bat-cave,
but they did not have
the ones with expensive
cars, or the ones with
silver girls girls
being fucked
righteously
ruthlessly
and then the white-hot explosions
no, the clerk said,
we are all cleaned out
of the movies that explode
all he could find were
these arduous, trite indies
where the underdog gets the girl,
where the big guy gets what's coming,
where nothing blows to smoldering smithereens,
where his worst karmanightmares play loud on his sound system
and his high-definition TV,
you know, the altar at which
he learned
everything
he knows
___
shadow man parks his
mars-red benz, looking
fresh, salivating at
my best friends.
so we start bangin' our
sticks and stones
on the trees and roads,
songs singin' praise
of the snake-skin
smile of the shiny-goat-man
then prada frown rolls the
window down, lights a
smoke, sticks around,
and we stand our ground
& he starts making promises.
& we start thinking less of him.
& he starts up his car and
pistons pump and he is
thrusting, oh,
"i've been watching you
hatch, dear friends, you,
vigorous-claw and leather
walls, you know what's
good. i smell maple
bacon cookin', i can taste
all that sweet fat. so
you boys call me up
when you are
done fuckin' around.
i will fly you
outta this one-horse
town - on my jet plane."
he's got that jet plane!
i always wanted to
fly across the world on
my very own jet plane
in a real-gone-haze
those over-thing days
five young men on
a shadow island; but
none of them ever
did sit down and get
through lord of the flies
shadow man stops at
the video store on
his way back home to
his old bat-cave,
but they did not have
the ones with expensive
cars, or the ones with
silver girls girls
being fucked
righteously
ruthlessly
and then the white-hot explosions
no, the clerk said,
we are all cleaned out
of the movies that explode
all he could find were
these arduous, trite indies
where the underdog gets the girl,
where the big guy gets what's coming,
where nothing blows to smoldering smithereens,
where his worst karmanightmares play loud on his sound system
and his high-definition TV; you know, the altar at which he learned everything he knows.
(^^^ That last line is meant to only be one line, but it wraps because I am too stupid to format my blog correctly. D'oh! Anyway, the line length is supposed to crescendo at the poem's conclusion. In contrast, the first version tapers off after the four lines beginning with "where," and I'm not sure which effect is better!)
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