The Tragedy of Macself

*Best read if imagined in the voice of say, Sir Patrick Stewart or Sir Ian McKellan

Macself Act 1, Scene-hogger

Is this a cell phone which I see before me,
The camera toward my face? Come! Let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see me still.

macself2Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A photo of the mind, a false JPEG,
Proceeding from the need-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I snap.

Thou marshall’st me the way my post is going;
And such an instrument I will to use.
Mine posts are made the fools o’ the other feeds,
Or else worth all the rest; I see me still,
And on thy wall and Twitter feed gouts of envy,
Which was not so before. There’s no such thing:
It is the bloody self-portrait which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one viral half-word

Nature seems dead, and narcissists abuse
The curtain’d sleep; haters celebrate

Pale Hecate’s duck-face offerings, and wither’d murder,
Alarum’d by his viral sentinel, the message wolf,
Whose howl’s his forwards, thus with his stealthy pace.
With hater’s ravishing dislikes, towards my design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
see not my poses, which way they face, for fear

Thy very updates prate of coffee shop ‘is at’ whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles I Tweet, they live:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

 

Ephiphany

Relaxed, I settle in comfortably
chin on hand elbow on window
15,000 feet above the sprawling
Mississippi Delta I am headed north
leaving New Orleans; St. Louis bound100_4863_0161ed

Preferred window seat affords a view
flame-streaked horizon far as can be seen,
emanating from blazing orange ball
perched precariously on the
western edge of fading day

fixated and streaking northward as the
sun slips slowly lower, lower, flattening
now slightly behind us as we bank north
a roaring, dissolving half-circle wobbling
on gently curving western horizon

Never before have I so
fully watched a day’s fading

We fly on through evaporating wisps
the sun now just a tiny, glowing, bump;
the middle of a flickering, flat-line ribbon
brilliant red and orange, stating purpose,
delineating sky from earth,
robust edginess of night from fading day

Unannounced, not anticipated answers
I had been seeking for questions
long blurred suddenly take full form
clarity blossoming in flickering,
dying flame of this day, today
.
Quickly, softly, completely
a peace not known previously settles in
I lean back, reclining my seat
as light slips away; darkness enveloping
the outer world, illuminating within.

Flying now into blue darkness,
never before have I seen things
so clearly.


– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd