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Eating Crow - Food for Thought

Poetry By: Wilbur
Poetry



I tried this once before - if it fails again, in meter or making sense, leave a comment and I'll delete it for forever.
It's about fleeting fame and the public when it turns against someone famous.


Submitted:Jul 25, 2012    Reads: 37    Comments: 4    Likes: 1   


Eating Crow (Food for Thought)

They said that were I ever
Forced to eat my words
I'd find I had a banquet of
Indiscretions and absurds

They said that were I ever
To have to choke those down
I'd find that I was on display
In the center of the town

They said, Oh, can you wait until
She's finally eating crow?
And crowed a lot, among themselves,
In voices high and low

They said, 'If she is ever
Forced to bite her tongue,
The world as she has known it -
Well, that bell will then have rung.'

And they chortled and they chuckled
Laughed themselves about
They waited and they loitered
To see the Star kicked out

A whole world of those people
Watched me rise and then just waited
No few, I'm sure, I have no doubt
Envied me -- or hated

****

I didn't get to be on stage
A sweet and polite kid
I said some things about some things
No others ever did

I pointed at the emperors
And said they had no clothes
I pointed at the arty set
Made faces, held my nose

Rapier cut and snarky
Too clever was I by half
Aimed squarely at humanity's faults
Hoping for a complicit laugh

I slanged the faults of humans
Met our foibles with clever jests
And was toasted - even hailed for that
One of Life's Special Party Guests

And my wit became so renowned
For its very slicing edge
I'd been asked and more than once
To - 'come and trim a hedge'

Published then and vaunted
Quoted by and brought to the fore
But - the really down and dirty is
They always hungered for more

****

They never saw their reflections
Or felt the thump of the truth
Never moved to rue or regretting
By my relentless, 'J'acuse'

No, they saw it all pointed elsewhere
Never at them or at theirs
Were sure my words were weapons
They could use - beneath the stairs

It's funny, that, you know -
The whole of the Famous Thing
You can be no one at all until
You are suddenly made their King

You ride the high waves ashore
And quickly gather a cliqué
Are petted and are cosseted
'Cuz you're on a winning streak

Given your own front table
At the finest and best 'In' place
Surrounded by those lickspittles
Who stay loyal but just to your face

You can have as much and all that
Never lose that high repute
Get listed and be lauded --
Until it all goes kaput

****

They had loved to watch the strikes
Loved the sparks, the flares, the plays
Always fun at the Tea Room
Always fun at the Hayes

Ever drinks and laughs at Oasis
Long nights that ran into days
But ah, once suspicion struck?
Came a fast draw-down of their praise

There was never a fault with my wit
As long as it pointed at Others -
Made mockery of someone else
Never them, their friends or their lovers

But once one of their own had a thought
That I'd cut too close to the bone
Then the others all pointed, too,
Left me reviled to stand all alone

I said that my only victim
Was the failure of humanity
My practice never named names
Which I judged an inanity

But still, they brought me down
Called me too big for my pants
Used against me my own acid humor
Using my words as their borrowed lance

****

It seemed their attacks on me
Came to them quite easy-peasy
Very hasty comic-tragedy
Very bad Euripides-y

It's true my Fall was foretold
Been writ out clear before
In the tale of the fall of mankind
Part of many a religious lore

It had not crossed my mind
That I ever would be binned
Because I never had felt guilt
Unaware I'd ever sinned

Seated there, then, at their table
With cold turkey, bad ham, crow
Told, 'now dine upon your own words
Eat up - and, comme il faut'

The table I was sat at
Was not off or hid away
But right there in town center
In the bright bright light day

Before I could be seated
First of all I had to admit
I was not always a sweet kid
In fact, been a bit of a shit

****

And if I had chosen not to?
Had just turned and shown my back?
Any judgment that they rendered
Would remain, writ large in black

And so I paid their price-tag
Said farewell to my heyday
Then with my dinner over
Took me off upon my way

Now I'm living my old years out
Here on the Cote d'Azur
In this small combined commune
Of Saint-Raphael and Fréjus

A pound they took of my flesh
Sautéd it all nice and brown
Then seated me at their table
And watched as I stuffed it down

Never giving a second thought
They willingly cast me adrift
Doesn't matter to them that my life
Is a torn and fissured rift

So I live here just as I wish
You see, they have set me free --
The problem now for myself, though,
Is to know - who exactly is Me?





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