This is an update to the original poem found here. The following changes were made: I have set each line (save one) into a strict 10-syllable meter, giving it a needed sense of control and structure; I have changed/added various words; and I have added an additional stanza at the beginning. The word changes/additions and the addition of the stanza were to give the poem smoother transitions, something that the first draft sorely lacked. Enjoy.
I.
"Oh Jerusalem! Oh unreal city!
City of man! City of dust and blood!
Hear, oh hear! The lord your god, the lord is
Bits of hair and lint in your coat pocket!
Streets stand silent with the noisome static
Of cars and the falling of fretting feet.
The sewage smell comes up from the gutters;
It comes, and seasons the food vendors' wares.
The dead ditch-diggers etch the street with graves.
(Even in death we are not left alone!)
See now! Their sweated backs are pictured much
By the plastic youths with plastic cellphones.
And the old clock-tower was tightly wound,
Its hands sit spinning; they spin to no end.
The coal black swords that carve out the hours
Are accompanied by the man in black.
There he walks the edge of the gray stone ledge,
There on the old clock-tower's meager lisp.
He casts down words that crack the hat-ed heads
And shatter, shatter, shatter on the ground.
'Misery, misery! Misery all!'
Croaked the clarion cry from up below,
'Misery! Misery!' raised the voice
That fell like glass onto the passers-by.
'Come down, strange fellow!' cry the passers-by,
'You'll trip. You'll fall. You'll break your foolish head!'
'Oh, broken, broken! Oh, all is broken!'
He cried anew before he fell as dead.
The grisly gravity did its best work
As it dashed him against the earthen floor.
The onlookers did scatter; voyeurs did hide,
When the man kissed the world and broke to bits.
'Misery! Misery!' his final cry,
The final call he let fly as he fell.
And the passers-by, inconvenienced, knew
For certain that he had gone straight to hell.
'A special hell!' they all seemed to agree
With many talks and nods and committees
That they formed just then, on the bloody street,
The dead man's head sitting fresh at their feet.
'Misery! Misery!' the head did cry,
And the committees did argue and flatter and lie.
Soon every man and woman heard the news
Without ever leaving their office seats.
The Internet had pictures, film, and words
Before any feet left the bloody street,
Filing the empty heads of soulless meat
With information devoid of knowledge."
-Jon Vowell (c) 2009
I.
"Oh Jerusalem! Oh unreal city!
City of man! City of dust and blood!
Hear, oh hear! The lord your god, the lord is
Bits of hair and lint in your coat pocket!
Streets stand silent with the noisome static
Of cars and the falling of fretting feet.
The sewage smell comes up from the gutters;
It comes, and seasons the food vendors' wares.
The dead ditch-diggers etch the street with graves.
(Even in death we are not left alone!)
See now! Their sweated backs are pictured much
By the plastic youths with plastic cellphones.
And the old clock-tower was tightly wound,
Its hands sit spinning; they spin to no end.
The coal black swords that carve out the hours
Are accompanied by the man in black.
There he walks the edge of the gray stone ledge,
There on the old clock-tower's meager lisp.
He casts down words that crack the hat-ed heads
And shatter, shatter, shatter on the ground.
'Misery, misery! Misery all!'
Croaked the clarion cry from up below,
'Misery! Misery!' raised the voice
That fell like glass onto the passers-by.
'Come down, strange fellow!' cry the passers-by,
'You'll trip. You'll fall. You'll break your foolish head!'
'Oh, broken, broken! Oh, all is broken!'
He cried anew before he fell as dead.
The grisly gravity did its best work
As it dashed him against the earthen floor.
The onlookers did scatter; voyeurs did hide,
When the man kissed the world and broke to bits.
'Misery! Misery!' his final cry,
The final call he let fly as he fell.
And the passers-by, inconvenienced, knew
For certain that he had gone straight to hell.
'A special hell!' they all seemed to agree
With many talks and nods and committees
That they formed just then, on the bloody street,
The dead man's head sitting fresh at their feet.
'Misery! Misery!' the head did cry,
And the committees did argue and flatter and lie.
Soon every man and woman heard the news
Without ever leaving their office seats.
The Internet had pictures, film, and words
Before any feet left the bloody street,
Filing the empty heads of soulless meat
With information devoid of knowledge."
-Jon Vowell (c) 2009
