What's it going to be eh?
I think of the magic of cinema
the joy of the moving book
often bastardized for time
His face full screen
Such roguish handsome-ality
that almost glam
by way of evil
I find myself romanticizing
the white outfits offset with
black boots
and derby hats
black cane
with surprise poniard encased
Cod pieces all the rage
5:00 pm is far too early to
be watching him stare down
the camera
I first saw that opening
trance at 3:00 am
A tired resolve holding me
down
The elaborate color scheme
alive in the most flamboyant
of hues for that futuristic zeal
A 70's haberdashery of sights
and feel
even in its attempt to be
far flung into the future
there is the feel of ancient
cinema
Behold blasphemistic statuettes
and madmen faced portraits
false teeth soaking in
a glass
At once brilliant
the slaughtering of sacred cows
I am hooked
By way of his narration
that look of shock and
revulsion
The sporadic in-out in-out
at double time
while "Tell" plays on
Death by ceramic dick
as I sit and think
Watching as the shiny disc spins
being captured by laser
exposing McDowell's half-faced smirk
that final showcase of defiance
his height of genius
as criminal stalwart
If only violence in this day
and age
was as horrible as Anthony had
predicted
what a better world we would have
The wise old owl of literature
thought of the worst
and fell short in the reach
For aren't we programmed?
Stunted by overindulgence
to the point of nausea
Some would offer that we
are downing in ultra-violence
And there in lies the horror
played to perfection
in extreme close-up
Porn dulls the senses of love
and objectifies
While violence overload
plays at us at 190 clips per second
Some act on these image overloads
while others become
numb to
How the music
swells
the sex is harsh
the milk is spiked
How the punishment's
fit the crime
but not really
How friends turn on one another
how the world moves on while
we stay mostly the same
How
Oh mourn the fact that art
never achieved the acceptance
in everyday life
as it did in on the walls
and table tops of
Kubrick's future
where nudes and phallus'
would be as common as
candlesticks and fruit baskets
I find myself wishing this to
be
A more resilient form of reality
where cars are sleek
and tiny
and words become
art in their speaking
I can not help but appreciate
the movement poem that
is Malcolm McDowell on celluloid
speaking for all of the malcontents
coming out the other side
having grown
Though into what
we aren't quite sure
For
as the screen goes red
we are left to conjure up
the future of such a character
remembering always that
the youth never trust authority to do
right by them
their anger antics often go misinterpreted
by elderstatesmen who always know what is best
forgetting that Hitler brainwashed his youth
to horrible consequence
and that history repeats
On a rainy day
as the movie ends
My mind a swamp of
thoughts
that grows rich with
vegetation
I have this uncontrollable hankering
to go out singing.....
I was cured all right!
Erik Lauritzen 2003
I think of the magic of cinema
the joy of the moving book
often bastardized for time
His face full screen
Such roguish handsome-ality
that almost glam
by way of evil
I find myself romanticizing
the white outfits offset with
black boots
and derby hats
black cane
with surprise poniard encased
Cod pieces all the rage
5:00 pm is far too early to
be watching him stare down
the camera
I first saw that opening
trance at 3:00 am
A tired resolve holding me
down
The elaborate color scheme
alive in the most flamboyant
of hues for that futuristic zeal
A 70's haberdashery of sights
and feel
even in its attempt to be
far flung into the future
there is the feel of ancient
cinema
Behold blasphemistic statuettes
and madmen faced portraits
false teeth soaking in
a glass
At once brilliant
the slaughtering of sacred cows
I am hooked
By way of his narration
that look of shock and
revulsion
The sporadic in-out in-out
at double time
while "Tell" plays on
Death by ceramic dick
as I sit and think
Watching as the shiny disc spins
being captured by laser
exposing McDowell's half-faced smirk
that final showcase of defiance
his height of genius
as criminal stalwart
If only violence in this day
and age
was as horrible as Anthony had
predicted
what a better world we would have
The wise old owl of literature
thought of the worst
and fell short in the reach
For aren't we programmed?
Stunted by overindulgence
to the point of nausea
Some would offer that we
are downing in ultra-violence
And there in lies the horror
played to perfection
in extreme close-up
Porn dulls the senses of love
and objectifies
While violence overload
plays at us at 190 clips per second
Some act on these image overloads
while others become
numb to
How the music
swells
the sex is harsh
the milk is spiked
How the punishment's
fit the crime
but not really
How friends turn on one another
how the world moves on while
we stay mostly the same
How
Oh mourn the fact that art
never achieved the acceptance
in everyday life
as it did in on the walls
and table tops of
Kubrick's future
where nudes and phallus'
would be as common as
candlesticks and fruit baskets
I find myself wishing this to
be
A more resilient form of reality
where cars are sleek
and tiny
and words become
art in their speaking
I can not help but appreciate
the movement poem that
is Malcolm McDowell on celluloid
speaking for all of the malcontents
coming out the other side
having grown
Though into what
we aren't quite sure
For
as the screen goes red
we are left to conjure up
the future of such a character
remembering always that
the youth never trust authority to do
right by them
their anger antics often go misinterpreted
by elderstatesmen who always know what is best
forgetting that Hitler brainwashed his youth
to horrible consequence
and that history repeats
On a rainy day
as the movie ends
My mind a swamp of
thoughts
that grows rich with
vegetation
I have this uncontrollable hankering
to go out singing.....
I was cured all right!
Erik Lauritzen 2003

