Impetus' Nemesis

It's been a long time since my last post. Too long. Guess it's a good thing this site's still new and not many people know about it/me yet, so not many have been kept waiting. Over the next 5-6 weeks, before classes start again, I'll try to make up for my recent silence.

This is a revision of something I wrote for Spring term 2020. Our assignment was to write a poem following a list of 20 prompts, using one to several lines per prompt. I may have gone more than several lines for some, just because I have so much fun with rhymes.

The prompts:

1. Begin with a metaphor.

2. Write a specific but preposterous action.

3. Use 1 image for each of the 5 Senses.

4. Use synaesthesia (blending of the senses).

5. Use both the proper name of a person and place.

6. Contradict something written above.

7. Change direction/digress from the previous line.

8. Use a word you've never seen in a poem.

9. Use false cause-and-effect logic.

10. Use a piece of "talk" or dialect/slang/jargon you've heard but didn't quite understand.

11. Write a metaphor using the formula: "the [adjective] [concrete noun] of [abstract noun]."

12. Reverse an image's typical associative qualities.

13. Make the poem's subject/character perform an unrealistic action.

14. Refer to yourself by a nickname/in 3rd person.

15. Write in the future tense, so that this part of the poem seems a prediction.

16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.

17. Make a declarative assertion which ultimately makes no sense.

18. Use a non-English phrase/idiom.

19. Personify something inanimate.

20. End with a vivid image that "echoes" an image from earlier in the poem.

The poem:

Impetus' Nemesis

1 I was half artist wishing to start

like ossified Ferrari pistons.

Ignition inhibited by darker parts within--

the insistent schoolyard jock who envisioned

wrist fissures, forearms blister twisted,

2 kicked our right shin with its attached foot.

3 Confidence consisted of fragile card castles

which can't withstand Richter-scant twitches

impinging upon the derelict constructions

suffering repetitious clattering collapse.

Fractures enacted by big bad huff puffs,

respiratory ruckus hacking love to rubble,

the constant tinnitus of authenticity's antithesis.

My inner incubus's bloodthirsty criticisms

cascaded from brain to ears to palate.

Picked the splayed suits clear from aforementioned havoc

where spades laid strewn and each ace restacked

felt brittle tissue suffused in the fuming kerosene

of self hatred and barren dreams

4 daring me approach road flares,

roast my impaired cerebrum to cease.

I was stoked to blare the heat, receive

woe bouquets, aromas both garish and sweet

so no queries posed why I was scared to breathe.

Choked O2 the au pair, it vetoed my hope it would spare its care for me.

If life's fair, how'd broke spokes strand this man a-sea?

Apparently ghost ambitions are errant pleas,

but mine was planted deep and damn near

paradoxical to completely tear the weed.

Zero for three squared and rarely did prayer achieve

reprieve from grief streams by terabytes, they were replete

with demonic malware breaching the mind's

firewall till scleras bleed redder than Carrie's tee

and so soft, Harrison's guitar so merry seems.

The breaking reached, I spoke Hail Mary beads

and screamed, "Maranatha, Cristo, repair me, please!

Why must I ensnare my own wary feet?"

5 Heart was Rome prepared for Nero's terror streak,

incoherent me perceived maybe

torchbearers reaped the sole answer to Peace's scarcity--

my whole corporeal form scorched, the

asleep ashes wind could transport East.

6 But no more.

Behold my altered course.

That awful path was aborted as

at last I opted for the proper fork where

it's always holiday, I'm Grinch-engorged but

no worthy holocaust, adopt Glasnost for past sins remorse.

7 Hell's accessed on one's personal accord,

the sadistic fiesta of best destiny detoured.

8 The me who abhorred me apportioned Lucifer's smorgasbord

9 and I construed it rude to refuse to consume my own demise.

10 I'm dropping wise, popping neither six nor fives,

vouchsafing life, smiles replacing cries.

My face's striations may imply I'm aging but

really they're gripe-derived till blights subside once I

11 declined the Barmecidal trifles alter-Alec supplied.

12 Straight jacket that half, it's muzzle-strapped and chastised

so my liberated value shines,

13 sprouts wings, invigorated in hallowed skies.

14 A Rod of God, not malice-inclined,

unlike the once invincible Nemesis who'll stay confined

16 so long as Grace enshrines me,

leaves haze behind and the knavish stymied.

Halo's the favorite raiment because piety

and tranquil anxiety staves away replays of

17 hastily abated beastly ways which precipitated dissipation

and such fibs as self-immolation's vacation pre-paid.

18 Faith re-attained perseveres for sanctity and fears greatness

porque es mejor ser la media naranja y un don nadie

que entrar las siete males.**

19 Golden gates will grin and embrace

the side of my soul emboldened to greet salvation midway.

While the shackled Nemesis groans below and caged,

20 the Maker wades forward, waving me toward

Their palatial playing card domain.

**Note**: The Spanish section in prompt 18 loosely translates to "because it's better to be the medium orange and a Mr. Nobody than to enter the seven evils." The line is a mash-up of three Spanish idioms.