Epic poem of the warrior-feline Punk's battle with the immortal String.
|WARNING - this poem is not my work. It was channeled through me by my friend’s cat, Punk. He cares not if it entertains you, for its purpose is to connect with you on a primordial level. Have you too grappled with an arch nemesis more powerful than yourself? Punk believes nothing is more savory than to defy such a foe. No?
How’s your grasp of Norse Mythology?
Have you heard of the mighty Thor?
And of his enemy, the Midgard Serpent,
who was so titanic he encircled the globe?
They fought thrice times, and each
confrontation shook the heavens and the earth.
During their third battle they slew one another
on the last day of the world - Ragnorak.
When these battles are recounted I cannot
help but smile a little at their telling.
For if you were to compare them to my
Herculean bouts with the hellish String,
Thor and Jormungander’s battles seem more
like elementary-school playground scuffles.
Who am I to make such a pretentious claim?
I am Punk, sit back and hear my tale.
Before I get to how much more daunting
String is than that overgrown worm,
let me first compare my lot with that
silver-spooned mouthed godling - Thor.
Thor had his backers, the dwarves you see,
who fashioned him an arsenal of
enchanted gizmos of a sundry variety.
The likes of which, it is safe to say,
Batman, Inspector Gadget and James Bond
in total could not possibly hope to scrounge.
A not-quite-long-enough magical hammer;
kind of phallic in a Freudian way if you ask me.
Enchanted gloves to wield said hammer;
and keep his hands soft too I might add.
And lastly a girdle which increased his strength;
Who knew? Thor wore a girdle. I rest my case.
I don’t have the support of dwarves,
gnomes, pixies, or a contingent of fairies.
I don’t have any divine weapons,
magical underwear or enchanted paraphernalia.
Plus I would scoff at any stuff offer of such
or the likes of which - even if they were
presented to me on a silver dish.
Unarmed combat is how we do,
with no quarter asked and no quarter given.
Mono a gato, no holds barred, and any
foreign implements are simply not allowed.
Hostility, raw hate and deep seeded enmity
are the only perquisites to our fights.
Tooth, claw, and a superior intellect
are the weapons at my disposal.
Combined with my speed, heart and sinew,
these are all I need, want or desire.
As for a cost comparative analysis which
evaluates String and the Midgard Serpent;
the bottom line simply states that the
Midgard Serpent was slain and String is immortal.
If Thor were alive today and if he so desired
he could smite String many thousands of times
with his puny, phallic, fantastical hammer.
String would just laugh at all this pounding
cool as a cucumber with nary a scratch.
I could go on but I believe I've made my point,
besides all this talk of the infernal String
has brought my blood to a boil, which reminds me
it's time for our next grappling, fight.
For although, as I said, Thor and Jormungander
fought a paltry and mere total of three times,
there is not a day of the week that goes by
where String and I do not fight in frenzied battle.
Free Verse Poem