Grand Narratives and Satire
A Few Prose poems
The prose poems that follow this video are from While the Undertaker Sleeps: Collected and New Prose Poems. While the Undertaker Sleeps This book, published by MadHat Press and Marc Vincenz with a lengthy introduction by Cassandra Atherton, collects all of my previous books, along with 30 new prose poems and the book ends with a substantial hybrid memoir where I discuss how working in the steel mills influenced me as a writer.
Universal Medicine
A man discovered the universal medicine, only to learn it unbalanced the intellect and grew eyebrows on people’s backs, so that the master race he had envisioned was in reality a bunch of idiot savants painfully deciphering meaningless hieroglyphics stretched across the hills and valleys of their shoulder blades, so that, most importantly, all philosophy—who they were, where they came from—looked in both shape and significance as cities appear to aliens soaring above in their perfect space ships on way to even more perfect galaxies.
*****
Hell
It’s probably like the excitement of your first cigarette, but it lasts forever, that dizzying nausea—the Unknown: sulfuric clouds, infernal helpers scurrying around with imitation human heads on their buttocks, bats leaping from black books, dragon tails waving. Monkey glands everywhere, hope dying slowly like a bad marriage, “I am nobody” the only conversation.
But then again the dammed might be as recognizable and stupid as the living: men who use the same condom twice, women who let them, the degenerate who molested Spider-Man—everyone perpetually suing each other, holding hands in a circle whose rim clangs like a counterfeit coin.
But more likely, it’s the general humiliation of being dead, realizing your own personal Beelzebub might be the least weird guy you know.
****
Post-Mortem Jacket Cover
At my funeral, as I he hover above the congregation, above disgruntled poets, above ex-girlfriends meeting each other for the first time and consoling my mother who they always liked better than me, I want some brave soul to stand up and say, “No one lived life as deeply as this man, or sang as terrifying a song. No one was a greater poet or friend of the soul.”
But more likely, there will be an embarrassing silence, as when someone passes wind in a movie theater and no one accepts responsibility. But I can live with a moment like that, appreciate its indecisiveness and self-loathing. Traits they say I championed when alive and barely kicking.
You can find Peter Johnson’s books, along with interviews with him, appearances, and other information at peterjohnsonauthor.com
His most recent book of prose poems is While the Undertaker Sleeps: Collected and New Prose Poems
His most recent book of fiction is Shot: A Novel in Stories
Find out why he is giving away his new book of prose poem/fragments, even though he has a publisher for it, by downloading the PDF from the below link or going to OLD MAN’S homepage. His “Note to the Reader” and “Introduction” at the beginning of the PDF explains it all: Observations from the Edge of the Abyss+
Yes, family grand narratives are hard-wired into us, and can be very good guideposts or a source of guilt, which has kept many therapists gainfully employed.
"But more likely," /
pay attention people /
this is a volta.
By the way, Peter, you mentioned
Kurt Vonnegut as an influence -
do you have a favorite or two
Vonnegut novels?