“Harry and the Paparazzi” [An Epic Episode]

an episode from The New House of Fame by Paul “Whitberg” Burgess

Of action, we’ve not seen a lot so far.
Perhaps it’s time for faster moving scenes.
I’ll start with Harry sitting at a bar…
…The handsome actor (loved by mostly teens—
Though once a lowly pornographic star)
Now owns a house complete with putting greens.
The thrilling stanzas that are coming next
Will tell of Harry being sorely vexed.

Our mighty hero paid then left the seat*
In which he’d just enjoyed a manly meal.
With superhuman steps he walked the street
Still thinking of his lately eaten veal–
Oblivious to quiet creeping feet
Pursuing close behind his stepping heel.
Our story’s handsome hero didn’t know
He’d soon encounter Rick (his hated foe).

*He did not pay the seat. As usual, the meter has influenced me to write more ambiguously than I normally would.

Once ears perceived that dreaded cam’ra click,
He turned his head to meet a blinding flash
He knew had come from Tabloid Wizard Rick–
A foe with whom he always seemed to clash.
Our hero ran, but Rick’s pursuit was quick
[In college, Rick had won a racing dash].
Then, Ricky said, “I’ve heard you two were close.
How do you feel about her overdose?

Or would you rather talk of matrimony?
I hear you’ve spent some time in fam’ly court
(Since Missus rode your agent like a pony).
My fellow wizard’s latest news report
Reveals you’ll owe your ex no alimony,
Yet she’ll receive a wealth of child support.
Assist my quest to fill the people’s need
[For scandals are the food on which they feed].”

Those words provoked the hero’s righteous rage
Awaking his desire to bravely smite
The vile, detested cam’ra-wielding mage
Who spoke these magic words: “I want no fight
But just to put you on the cover page.”
Our star replied, “Be gone, unwelcome sight!
…Or else I’ll smash your evil cam’ra’s lens
And run you over with my custom Benz.”

Replying, Ricky cast a common spell
That tabloid wizards know as “I Will Sue.”
With growing ire, the hero told him, “Go to Hell!”
Then tossed the cam’ra, breaking it in two.
And, when the pieces of the cam’ra fell,
He smashed them both beneath his shiny shoe.
Before a cuff restrained his raging wrist,
He pummeled Ricky ’til he’d hurt his fist.

Oh, Rage that dwells inside a human’s heart…
You vessel hard to empty but not fill…
You cycle slow to end but quick to start…
You who can move with ease but not be still.
You’re like a fully-loaded shopping cart
That’s started rolling swiftly down a hill.
Your reckless rolling won’t begin to end
Until you’ve crashed into a foe or friend.

To Rage, the wizard owes a hearty “Thanks!”
The piece he wrote on Harry’s acts of war
Against the Tabloid Wizards’ royal ranks
Ensured that tabloid sales would skyward soar
And fortified the warring Clan of Cranks
[Which tracked the star more closely than before.]*
Oh, Rage, you causer of an odd effect,
You bring about what people most reject.

“*Footnote about the Story Printed”
To save the story from “Banality”—
A curse that’s also known as “What Occurred”—
The piece proclaimed, “The star’s brutality
Was sparked by what this writer disinterred
…that Harry’s fond of bestiality.
In other words, he loves what’s thickly-furred.
Afraid I might reveal the dirty truth,
He punched my face and chipped a lower tooth.”

“The Rage of Odysseus and the Cyclops”

 

[Polyphemus, painted by Jean-Leon Gerome]

“The Rage of Odysseus and the Cyclops”
Escaping near disaster made me bold.
Against the pleas companions wisely spoke,
I would not cease to taunt a wounded foe—
To make him feel again the blow
That rendered sightless that unsightly eye—
An eye that saw a meal, and little more,
Where gentler eyes would see a man in need.

The crash of boulders and resulting waves
Alarmed the crew, but rage was further fueled,
Not quenched, by drenching rains of salty sea—
The fire inside my spirit roared with flames
That strove to match the waves in height.
I thought I’d shout the fire ‘til none remained.

Despite increasing vehemence and force,
The hills he hurled and fiery words I shot
Became more futile as our distance grew.
Although I was exhausted, flames still burned.

Enraged about the men he had devoured,
I had endangered friends who were alive.
The smoke I blew had made me nearly blind,
And boulders hurled did not restore his sight.

a poem in blank verse–by Paul Burgess

Certain scenes from Homer continue to inspire me. This is the third poem I have written on this scene. The other two are here: 

“Cyclops”

 

“The Blinding of the Cyclops Polyphemus”

[As with everything I post, this is a first draft.]

“On the Futility of Anger”

“On the Futility of Anger” [The Rambling Prose of Paul Burgess–entry 7]
I. There are two ways to deal with the past: We can learn from painful, destructive errors that changes in mind and action need to become a priority if we want a brighter future; or we can decide that the dark past—despite being irretrievably gone—should become the dark present, which in its turn becomes the dark future.

II. Punishing someone might make the punisher think that “justice’ is being served, but revenge is not true justice, and attempting to heal one’s emotional wounds by making others suffer is as ineffective a remedy as stabbing someone else to heal one’s own stab wounds.

III. If a house burns, we should seek the cause of the accident and rebuild the house more securely rather than kick and curse its ashes. Kicking the ashes seems superficially to be futile, yet harmless, but—viewed rationally—such an act clearly harms its agents by throwing dust in their eyes, soiling their clothing, and maybe even burning their bodies.