Al Gore — in his most recent climate tome — has penned a poem which he read on CNN. Below in italics is Gore’s poem. In bold are some random thoughts I had as I read his work.
One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun
What pray tell is a “thin” September? It looks like you haven’t had a thin anything since the 1990s — except maybe some Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies. And I hate to nitpick since I’m sure “thin September” fits your meter better than “thin August or July”, but midnight sun is not in September. Perhaps “slender August” or “wispy July” would work better and be scientifically accurate as we all know is your goal here. Is the weather going to change the placement of the Sun in the sky too?
Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea
Neptune’s bones dissolve
Why would you favor Neptune over Apollo? And if the oceans are vaporizing wouldn’t that bring back the disappearing continent — or is the acid dissolving that too? Perhaps it will reappear on a Fat Tuesday.
Snow glides from the mountain
Ice fathers floods for a season
A hard rain comes quickly
Listen to Bob Dylan much? Ice “mothering” floods is a better metaphor unless the ice floods in spurts and then leaves without leaving a number. And besides — “fathers” is too paternalistic — like he’s raping Gaia. In fact, given your language it seems the hard rain is the “father” here, but I digress.
Then dirt is parched
Kindling is placed in the forest
For the lightning’s celebration
How is dirt parched with all these floods and the water vapor in the air. Wouldn’t this be extremely humid?
Who or what is placing kindling in the forest?
Unknown creatures
Take their leave, unmourned
Horsemen ready their stirrups
If the creatures are unknown then who cares if they’re unmourned? How can one be mourned if it’s not known? And “take their leave” sounds voluntary to me. If a T. Rex falls in the jungle and no one’s there to see it does it matter? Exactly. “Horsemen” — again with the paternalism?
Passion seeks heroes and friends
The bell of the city
On the hill is rung
Why personify Passion? Passion seeks nothing… flesh this out. Who rung the bell? The horse-people? Seeing as bells are in churches and by this time church bells will be outlawed from whence does this bell come? Perhaps the call to prayer from the minaret is a better picture here.
The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
Here are your tools
Why is the shepherd crying? I hope he’s not crying wolf. Choosing what? Tools? So you’re calling climate change advocates tools? Sounds about right.
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Every time I think that the man has gone full retard, he finds a way to redefine the term.
Well, it’s pretty clear that he’s been reliving his college activist days lately, so the next logical step was for him to write an incredibly boring, pretentious poem.
By next week he’ll be doing bong hits with his English prof and playing ultimate frisbee in the quad.
Unbelievable! Even for Al Gore! This guy is giving Jimmy Carter some real competition for most absurd former Pres. or Vice Pres. Thank Gaiea for the several hundred voters in Florida who kept us from being governed by this man.
A) Dear Mr. Ex-VP, the only time I wanna hear non-rhyming poetry, it’s from the mouth and mind of Francesco Zappa. You know, the guy who took you and your tight-assed cohorts in the Senate to task back in the mid-80s. That’s right, lib trolls, that big PMRC censorship-fest you always try to pin on conservatives was spearheaded by Tipper and then Senator Gore.
B) Nice try with the “city on the hill” nod. Whattsamatayou, not “shining” due to India and China’s smog?
In the best Betty Davis voice I can possibly muster on the printed page, “What a bunch of s**t!”
Sorry about the anonymous sig. Dumped cookies, or rather lost them on Gore’s poem! That was my Betty Davis imitation above.
Actually, it turns out that when he finally got a look at his birth certificate when applying for a passport, he discovered that his first name really was “Frank”. (And I betcha something similar is in our Community-Organizer-in-Chief’s paperwork…)
But my real reason for this reply is to ask why there’s no mention of Manbearpig in any of these poems?
Think next time ol’ Al does a reading he should do it, while inhaling helium.
Gore is the closest thing we have to a modern William Jennings Bryan.
Was this poem for nihilistic aestheticism or is he supposed to be the new Nostradamus?
Well, when he lost the election, I compared him to a 12yo girl eating her way through heartache. I guess now he’s worked his way up to a 16yo girl writing poems about how no one understands. Ya big baby. I can’t stand people who take themselves too seriously.
That is fantastic, Tracy! Perfect analogy!
Someone must have just turned him onto Sylvia Plath.