[It is thus now time to post extremely bland and silly poetry I had written for a school project within the confines of these halls.] THE ICONOCLASTS or, Zeitgeist CANTO I In deaths of sun and smiles of night, The Doctor sat quite lone. He pondered 'mongst the soul-less fire, Man's Ides but rarely honed. His mind would dance throughout the sea Of pasts and dreams gone by. And wonder at the world beyond His red-starred, mental sky. But dusty dreams were brought to life, As mail was sent throughout, Like birds, to invite such strangers, To quite a timeless bout. The Doctor gasped at such invites That would provide a show. Of such a wondrous world around, His own quite stringent row. He packed his case and donned a mask, Of beakéd mystery. To keep his mind within his head And not let thoughts roam free. He stepped outside into the dark. To venture through the world, That would propose this dithyramb, And change just quite unfurled. CANTO II The Doctor stood and ogled thus, A wondrous keep of light That rose before a cloud of those, Obsessed with modern blight. His invite sent forth called upon The Doctor's special skills Of puppeteering life as such, And all its charms and thrills. He was to save a daughter's mind From points of bleak despair, And philes and love of strangest thoughts, And hearing those not there. The Doctor thought this reason queer How such a girl could stay, Restrained and left to her own mind, With contact kept away. But he thought nothing of these thoughts As he stepped onward fore, And cast himself into the crowd Of hedons evermore. Thus would the Doctor test his mind, His thoughts, his ides, his view, As he would stride among the lights, Sans vision set askew. CANTO III He entered like a shadowed wind, A mist about the trees That danced and swayed through drunkedness With such a jolly breeze. The Doctor stood confused at such Cacophony abound How ghosts and imps of pleasure danced In such outrageous sound. Their glasses 'flected spears of light Their footwork stumbling down Their faces in Byzantine joy Ignorant and sans frown. The Doctor stood away from this Enshallowed dithyramb And mourned the death of modern days To be slaughtered like lambs. But in the corner he then found A beacon of sane thought. To which he set himself towards Whilst with present he fought. He met the man's own flighted face, And smile forgiving game. As he held out his hand and thus Said “Hermes is my name.†CANTO IV The odd Grecan brought up his mask To which the Doctor claimed, “I don this beak to hide the stench Of superficial shame. That drifts itself throughout this home In shadows of this age, With Roaring Twentied shallow love, And lack of thought quite sage.†The storm-scarred face forgave a laugh In heartened, joy'd amuse: “Oh how the old keep strict to Ides, And stand 'gainst modern cues. Step with me, sir, and I'll bring forth A song of shallow seers That scar such saintly, surrept souls Just like that girl you fear.†The doctor gapes at how the man Saw his reason to be, Among the Host's own party guests, To fix a girl he'd see. And thus the Grecan then brought forth A careful compromise, Of bringing him toward the child, Before the dawn's old rise. CANTO V The two odd men, one young one old Set off upon their trek, 'Round great bleak waves of dancing jest, And drunks but in a wreck. The Doctor viewed these scenes aghast At how these humans may Revel themselves in senseless love Until the light of day. They passed a man upon a throne Of drunken, tipsy views. He held one eye for things gone past And one for things anew. They passed a couple lacking love That danced in broken bells, With gars and filles of mindless joy On shores of Asphodel. And at the doorway of the Host They met a dog-like man Whose tired, worn out, tri-scarred face Held no protective plan. The Grecan left the Doctor here To help the sickly girl, And hope that his old sheltered mind Would see the world unfurled. CANTO VI Inside the room the Doctor viewed The Host but quite awry, Upon his wisened wooden chair And in a drunk spry. He sat abound such wine galored Quite Dionysian, And headless fancies in the skies Of fluttered minds again. He turned himself towards the man And called in toxic blight: What such a man was doing here, In his beleaguered plight. The Doctor claimed his presence beared Was due to his young girl. And how she played with voicéd thoughts That would forsake her world. The Host, draped in such alcohol As chilling as a cloak, Did not care of the words he called And permissions evoked. So Doctor passed the hollow man With sleights of senseless fear For worlds within the young girl's room, That he would draw quite near. CANTO VII The Doctor stepped inside the room To which there was a call, “I understand your voyage, sir, For I have seen it all.†The girl sat in her bed of thought With skin like pallid stone And eyes that shone in wisened lights Of pearly abalone. The Doctor claimed his presence her Was due to her quite ill But she quite quaintly quoted forth: “I brought you through such hills.†She claimed she wished to see the world, For voices that she heard, Were that of drunken pillar-folk And silent, flightless birds. She sent invites throughout the land For rescue and for save Of her and men quite old like him, To view the world, both brave. And Doctor, though surprised at first Began to open thought Towards her ides of rescue from Such narrowed views quite wrought. EPILOGUE And thus did Doctor sit upon His own such chair of mind And listened forth the girl's own ides From depths of voices lined. So here it was that Doctor thus Began to view anew, The world described in such a home With brightly foggy view. (The final stanza is extremely short due to time constraints, indeed.)
