Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Dr. Strangelove

"My ribs sweat," he said as I looked over a dead author's words.
"Pardon me, I relapse into my days of heavy use," the doctor explained. "You see, times were quite paradoxical."
He laughed.
I stared.
The moment passed.
He returned with the crispness of his starched oxford and wrinkle free Dockers intact, but his clarity remained staggered and opaque.
However, there was no cloudiness to his vision and the agenda never strayed.
The doctor was a virgin and disliked politics.
"There is no place for grammar in this society," he boasted, "believe me, I wrote the book."
Believe him I did.
The breath of his intellect reminded me of the idiosyncratic past.
It smelled of the theatre, Aristotle and the simple smoke of a beatnik.
Natural thought equals liberation.
Politics equals control.


  1. ha. nice. i enjoy your poetic voice...particularly the last 3 lines in this one...tight description with a wdie range...then the pop pop of truth...nice one shot

  2. I wonder how Aristotle smelled. Neat One Shot, D.C.!

  3. this is really cool - glad you linked up with one shot again - and yeah - i can smell Aristotle when reading this...

  4. Breath of his intellect... what a nice way to put it... thanks I liked this one...

    ॐ नमः शिवाय
    Om Namah Shivaya
    Twitter: @VerseEveryDay

  5. Right off the bat, the title makes me think of one of my favorite movies, and the messages in your poem I find valid and well stated poetically.

  6. Wowzers. This is a tremendous write. Nice one shot. Love and Light, Sender

  7. a real good have some great lines in there and use some wonderful words.cheers pete