Showing posts with label long haibun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label long haibun. Show all posts

Thursday, December 9, 2021

Cheeky History With Ornery Owl: Sympathy for Narcissus (WEP Challenge December 2021)

 

Narcissus, from a Pompeiian fresco

Tagline:
Greetings, Class. Fasten your seat belts! Professor Ornery Owl has a history lesson and a proposal for you. 

Genre: history, humor, politics

Cheeky History with Ornery Owl

Sympathy for Narcissus:

A Limerick Haibun Fusion Sandwich

 Tongue in Cheek Style

 

Narcissus got a bad rap

For being a stuck-up chap

He wasn’t malicious

Though he thought himself delicious

The poor guy was caught in a trap

 

There are variations on the myth of Narcissus, but the core story is as follows.

Narcissus was the son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope. When Narcissus was young, a seer named Tiresias told Liriope that Narcissus would live a long life as long as he never knew himself.

Narcissus grew up to be very handsome and had many admirers, but he was not interested in any of them. One day, after hunting, Narcissus lay beside a still pool of water. When he saw his own reflection, he fell deeply in love with himself. He tried to touch the figure in the water but could not. He was so enamored with his reflection that he would not leave the water's edge.

Fixating on his reflection to the exclusion of all else, Narcissus eventually succumbed to exhaustion and starvation. When the nymphs came to bury him, his body transformed into a beautiful white daffodil flower thereafter known as the Narcissus.

There are several variations on the Narcissus myth. The best-known variation was Metamorphoses, an epic poem written by Ovid. Metamorphoses explains the creation of various plants, animals, and natural phenomena through stories of transformation.

In Ovid’s poem, the nymph, Echo, told a story that was so long that Juno missed an opportunity to catch Jove while he flirted with the nymphs. Juno was angry with Echo, so she cursed the nymph to only repeat the words of others thenceforth.

One day in the woods, Echo saw Narcissus. She was captivated by his beauty and followed him. When Narcissus asked, "who is here?" Echo could only answer "here!"

Echo tried to embrace Narcissus, but he spurned her. Narcissus's rejection caused Echo to waste away until only her voice remained.

Narcissus stopped to rest by a clear pool of water, in which he beheld his reflection and was enchanted by its beauty. He sat staring at his reflection day and night, neither eating nor sleeping, eventually perishing from exhaustion and starvation. When the nymphs buried him, he transformed into a beautiful Narcissus flower.

In Pausanias' version of the story, Narcissus had a twin sister who looked exactly like him. He loved her very much. When she died, Narcissus found solace in looking at his reflection in the pond. This version of Narcissus does not fall in love with himself; instead, his reflection allows him to remember his sister.

The ancient Greek mythographer Konon's dark, homoerotic version of the myth of Narcissus takes place in the Greek city of Thespeia. In Konon's version, Narcissus scorns even Eros, the god of love himself.

A man named Ameinias falls deeply in love with Narcissus, but Narcissus spurns Ameinias and sends him a sword. Overcome with sorrow, Ameinias asks Eros to avenge him and commits suicide using the sword that Narcissus sent him.

Later, Narcissus falls in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. He becomes distraught because he is unable to touch the beautiful man that he sees in the pool. Eventually, Narcissus ends his own life, transforming into the lovely flower that now bears his name.

Free use image by John Hain on Pixabay

While the third version of Narcissus is arrogant and spiteful, the best-known version is self-absorbed but not malevolent. I feel that a more apt comparison than Narcissus for individuals such as Donald tRump is the infamous failed emperor Commodus, whose focus on his own glory touched off the downfall of Rome.

Commodus was the son of the highly regarded emperor Marcus Aurelius. After the death of his father, Commodus became increasingly dictatorial. Rather than acting as a leader, he focused on building a cult of personality by performing as a gladiator in rigged matches where he always came out the winner. He was assassinated in his bath on 31 December 192 by his personal trainer, a wrestler named Narcissus.

Roman statesman Dio Cassius described the reign of Commodus as marking the descent "from a kingdom of gold to one of iron and rust". When Donald tRump took office, he attempted to upend any programs created during the Obama era while building his cult of personality through continual campaigning.

Members of the Roman senate despised and feared Commodus, but his cult of personality thrived thanks to his showboating. Commodus was a megalomaniac, describing himself as having godlike prowess. Donald tRump described himself as “the chosen one” and a “very stable genius.”

Early in 192, Commodus, declared himself the new Romulus, renaming the city Colonia Lucia Annia Commodiana. All the months of the year were renamed to correspond with his twelve names: Lucius, Aelius, Aurelius, Commodus, Augustus, Herculeus, Romanus, Exsuperatorius, Amazonius, Invictus, Felix, and Pius. The legions were renamed Commodianae, the fleet which imported grain from Africa was termed Alexandria Commodiana Togata, the Senate was called the Commodian Fortunate Senate, his palace, and the Roman people themselves were given the name Commodianus, and the day on which these reforms were decreed was called Dies Commodianus.

Donald tRump jokingly said that he should be made pResident for life. Only he wasn’t joking.

In conclusion, while Narcissus may have been self-absorbed to his own detriment and the detriment of those who became enamored with him, his conceit did not have negative effects on an entire civilization. The conceit of Emperor Commodus was the beginning of the end for the Roman Empire. Commodus did not care about the Roman people, he cared about his own glory.

Therefore, I submit that the term narcissism is incorrectly applied to individuals such as Donald tRump. I believe that such megalomaniacs should be called Commodes to reflect the historical figure whose actions they mirror. Like them, commodes tend to be full of crap. 

  

Image by Craig Letourneau on Pixabay

https://pixabay.com/photos/daffodils-narcissus-nature-flower-455359/

 

narcissus heedless

learn nothing from growing pains

knowing only self

~cie~ 

978 words

I said I wouldn't do this again, but I'm giving it one more shot.

If you are capable of doing a proper critique rather than a tear-down, have at it. I'm not heavily invested in this piece. I wrote it as a lark.

Source: https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Mortals/Narcissus/narcissus.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commodus

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcissus_(mythology)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcissus_(wrestler)

https://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com/2020/10/narcissus.html

 Your Instructor



Ornery Owl
Free use image by Open Clipart Vectors



The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



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Thursday, November 5, 2020

A Prank

 

Sissy Spacek in Carrie (1978)

A Prank

“Do you believe that a prank can ruin a life?” Ketil inquired of his companions as they walked down the shadowed corridor of the House of Lost Dreams.

“Apologies fer hedgin’ on yer query, old currant bun, but I’ve noticed that this portion of the old Dream Drum continually looks very much the same, although what it branches off to varies in its rotten scariness,” Little John observed as he took a chomp from a rotten hunk of haunch.

“Pranks are an unfamiliar concept to me,” Yitzy imparted telepathically. The gigantic creature held a lantern in one great claw as he slid silently along the floor of the malevolent structure. “My race never engaged in frivolity. I do not mind Robin’s tendency to do so. Do you fellows recall the time when he said: ‘Yitzy, old boy, I’m gonna bury you!’ in a grumbling voice, and as I was wondering what I had done to inspire his wrath, he presented me with a bowl of berries.”

“This is not a prank, Yitzy, it is a jest,” Ketil countered. “While it is true that some pranks are harmless, such as short-sheeting a bed or putting what is knowed as a whoopie cushion on someone’s seat so it sounds as if they has farted loudly, I has finded in my time that many pranks is cruel in their intent and some has dire consequences that lasts a lifetime and beyond. Such a prank was depicted in the story Carrie, which was writed by the author Stephen King.”

“Oi, there was this cinema in Crouch End that used ter have a late showing of movies that had been out fer a spell,” Little John revealed. “Me and Rob went and saw Carrie there one night after we found ten quid just layin’ about on the ground.”

“Did you sneak in your own entrails for a snack, or did you purchase popcorn?” the ghost quipped.

“Well, yer see, the proprietor was one of them fish folk, an’ he was sympathetic ter the dietary needs of ghoul-kind,” Little John said. “Seemed ter ‘ave a limitless supply of molderin’ meat-stuffs in ‘is larder, an’ ‘e gave us a rusty bucketful of stale popcorn smothered in rancid butter and ‘uman fat. Rob and me had a foine time watchin’ the film, but we did feel right sad fer the young twist 'n' twirl what ‘ad a bucket of pig blood poured over ‘er dome by them arseholes who didn’t have nothin’ better to do than behave shite ter a poor lass what had a rough lot in life already.”

“Yah, this is the sort of prank of which I mean,” Ketil acknowledged. “Now, as so often is the case in a story such as Carrie, the arseholes what fucked with her paid for their shite behavior. But the accounting team of the Cosmos does not work so smooth in the real world. There was fuckers what near to got me killed all for a stupid joke because they do not like a fellow who is strange, especially when they is jealous that his father is holded in high regard for his position. I shall tell you of this incident, beginning with a poem which I shall now recite to you.”

cruel jest the match

a spark that leaves life in ruin

joke far from funny

Acknowledgments

This chapter was Written using the October Spooky Writing Challenge prompts from The Writers Handbook.

https://thewritershandbook.tumblr.com/post/630699213481705472/this-years-october-spooky-writing-challenge-is

The piece was also inspired by the November PAD Chapbook Challenge prompt challenging participants to write a Ruin poem.

The form of this piece is a long fictional Haibun. A Haibun is a form of Japanese poetry where a piece of prose is followed by a Haiku or Senryu.

This piece is part of my WIP, The Key of Eidolon. 

The Key of Eidolon is the second book in the Tales from the Dreamlands series. You can pick up the first book, Ketil and Yitzy’s Adventure in the Xura Dream House from Amazon or LBRY.

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The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


Creative Commons License

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

This work is the intellectual property of Naughty Netherworld Press.

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

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Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.

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https://lbry.tv/@naughtynetherworldpress:d

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This is a Thirsty Thursday post
Free use image by Open Clipart Vectors on Pixabay

 


Wednesday, June 19, 2019

Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille: Summer Solstice


At the beginning of the day on the summer solstice, I leave my body sleeping and walk in dreams to a place I will never see in life. I watch the sunrise through rocks mysteriously stacked long ago and wonder if it was possible that I was there in some form.

Do I have a connection to a time and place I could not possibly have known in my current reality, or do I merely wish that I was more important than I am? Did I once have wisdom and abilities forgotten by the passage of centuries and lifetimes, or am I merely a pathetic creature who wishes there was a possibility that I might not be as utterly hopeless and wretched as I appear?

There was a time when I believed in one God and a single savior. Then came the time that I believed in many deities and no specific savior. At this point, I neither believe nor disbelieve in any specific thing, except that I think the god postulated by most organized religious institutions is a construct created to give adherents carte blanche to behave cruelly.

is there someone there
a powerful entity
or are we alone?

~Cie~


Note:
It is not my intent to belittle anyone's faith. The thoughts I express are mine and mine alone. I neither believe nor disbelieve in any particular deity or set of deities, including the Christian god. My final paragraph is a criticism of the sorts of people who use their religion to behave as intolerant bigots and to cause harm to those who do not adhere to their dogma and edicts.