Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Crucify Yourself (Punk Blues in Spanner Time) -- NaPoWriMo Poem #3

[Note: Written 4/4/2014. A possible replacement Interlude 2 for Chaos Angel Spanner, featuring several major Spanner characters, motifs, and themes.]

Poe’s Law
(as in Edgar Allan’s preacher cousin):
The Church must put on the World’s culture
like unto a garment:
then it can take over.

Once upon a time, in a city by the sea,
before it caught the sheen and glitter of celebrity,
a dervish-capped man began a church amidst apostasy,
and gathered up his flock, and lo! it grew ambitiously,
and as his congregation grew, his power grew by degrees,
until the Lord commanded: bring this Babylon to its knees!

The city was called Seattle,
the man was Pastor Scofield,
Byron Herbert Scofield,
a man of same mind as Chuck Norris:
he looked like a football star
with a top hat upon his head
but wanted to be a Rock Star
and preaching the Lord was his way:
but the ring of ultimate power
lay on the road of Kurt Cobain.

  Celebrity secret to fame and fortune
   Crucify yourself
  Suicide will make you immortal
   Crucify yourself

 Willa Richter-Thomas,
 Rocker and psychologist,
 came up with a theory
 and put it into doggerel:

   This preacher steals our Rock ’N’ Roll
    and uses it to rule,
   then strips it of its integrity
    and calls it RadiCool.

He brought his intensities into ten more cities and nationwide,
parlaying his charisma into bigger more hysterical flocks and pastoral stardom;
but to him they were just a power base: higher ambitions fuelled his burning ego;
television’s siren song called out his name, drew him into its studio
where with his old friend Bram Savage he red- and pinkbaited uppity womankind
and their old enemy Willa, and built mighty fortresses in the sky
manned with manly crusaders against democracy, the devil’s daughter
and rapist of virgin manliness: communism was dead, they said,
we the people was passé and uncool: only fascism had edge and cool,
government by superhero, manly celebrity like Pastor Byron, the Lord’s linebacker.

  He got his biggest ratings.
  He was a fast rising star.
  Next step to power: Fox News.
  The devil looked up with a smirk.

 And Willa went on with her theory
 in defiance of his denial:

   Patriarchs so desperate
    to capture all the youth
   Mix their jargon in dead slang
    and brand it RadiCool.

Speculation abounds as to the time he sold his soul,
Sacrificing integrity for his ambitious goal:
Taking command of city towers and hostile city streets,
Liberal wimpy millions begging sobbing at his feet:
 seize his dominion
 take his revenge

Conservative celebrity compounded on itself and turned his head
He concocted the most audacious hostile takeover since the March on Rome
Bloodless castrated unmen and mere women populated the Babylon he sought to rule
They would fall and be conquered by the magic manly essence of God’s linebacker
 By God’s sign he would conquer
 Lo! this Babylon would fall

But ambition made him overconfident, unearned pride made him ripe for a fall
The city people feared he’d make them all illegal aliens in their own city
Fame fortune fear and fanatical hordes provoked the spirit of resistance
Mainstream media propaganda blitz couldn’t save him from humiliating defeat
 and the Great White Father
 was about to become Black

 And Willa’s theory continued as
 he closed his ears to reason:

   They won’t let you escape their Word
    at work or play or school;
   They’ll rape your mind and kill your soul
    à mode de RadiCool.

In the depths of his darkest despair
he sat in his executive chair
and telephoned Doctor Julian Blair
whose mad science controlled the mind
with a hubris that would make him blind
for he would turn Benedict Arnold
 and they would make his name taboo
 and they would call him Doctor X
and the mad doctor gave him this advice:

 A Western movie cowboy
  said these words so wise:
 Before you live forever,
  first you’ve got to die.

  The martyr way to absolute power
   Crucify yourself
  You gotta die to become immortal
   Crucify yourself

He sentenced himself to death,
he nailed himself to the cross,
he punctured himself in the side
with spear held in his own hands
and applied the final fatal sponge
and drank death deep to the bitter end:

his grief-maddened followers
believed he would rise bodily

 but he appeared unto them
 in mass hallucination:
 they were now his body,
 their faith his resurrection,
 their life his transmutation:
 like evil Osama bin Laden,
 he was now a god.

The Conservative Revolution
went to its full conclusion
a black man vanished from the earth
again dread giants walked the earth:
the Spirit of Rock ’N’ Roll was now his:
he rocked the Word of Command:
 Patriot Metal!

 And all the Rockers sang along
 as Willa summoned her Charmer niece:

   We the people must take back
    our culture from his rule,
   even if our freedom requires
    the sacrifice of the Cool.

Poe’s Law
(as in Nathan from Usenet):
The more fanatically you believe,
the less your belief can be distinguished
from parody.

She had slain the slender man
She could kill the mind of faith
A girl with skin of cinnamon
And outlaw style and hardened mind
And superpower to cloud the mind
And dark charisma rousing lust
 too sexy for her age
 and she had many names
Shira Thomas she said she was
But he kept calling her Rebel Styles
 the evil child seductress
  who slew the men of faith
 his suicide assault was fuelled
  by dread and holy hate
She stole from him the power of Rock
She terrified away his flock
He faced his nemesis alone
Inside a body not his own
 abandoned by God:
She put an end to his Word of Command
  his top hat fell
  his mind flickered out
  his name was forgot
 the devil got his man
 and that was the end.


Copyright © 2014 Dennis Jernberg. Some rights reserved.
Creative Commons License

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