The Odd Tale of Tim n’ Buck

It’s National Poetry Month, an annual event organized by the Academy of American Poets to raise awareness and appreciation for poetry in the United States, and I feel compelled to dig, just a little, into the use of language that can be a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy what I present over the next few weeks. It was a labor of love for me.

Ages ago, when I was in college, I came across a humorous story about a poetry competition:

Now, I know that this isn’t real. It’s a “tall tale” made into a joke, most likely by someone who hates Yale, but there’s something more important for me here.

I always struggle with non-rhyming poetry. I know that poetry can be “anything”, but a good beat with a rhyme does a lot more for me.

A good Yale alternative could have been:

Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked a caravan so grand.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu.

or

Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked a lonely caravan’s band.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu.

or

Slowly across the desert sand,
A lonely caravan did expand.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu.

or

Slowly across the desert sand,
Toward a distant, promised land.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu.

or

Slowly across the desert sand,
Rode a determined, weary band.
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu.

or

Slowly across the desert sand,
With camels in a double strand,
Men on camels, two by two
Destination – Timbuktu.

Each of these carries a specific flavor and an emotional image in the way the rhyme is presented. And that’s really the secret to poetry. It’s language primed to invoke emotion.

Or I can just do my own version, following the same rules:

A journey far, a dusty hue,
To ancient lands, both strange and new.
Across the sands, the camels flew,
Until we reached Timbuktu.

or

Across the desert sands so bright,
A caravan journeyed through the night.
To Timbuktu, their destination grand,
A legendary city, in a distant land.

or

I dreamed I flew to Timbuktu,
On skies of gold and oceans blue.
The desert sang a lullaby,
Beneath a moonlit, endless sky.

That’s where the flavor hides. Just a few different words create a completely different feel in the same poem.

I can probably beat the Yale guy, but I don’t have the trashy style of the redneck to be able to compete. But I can try. So better yet,

I can likely take down the Yale guy with ease,
But the redneck’s trash talk is a different expertise.
I’ll give it a go, with a humble grin,
And hope that my skills will help me win.

Poetry can be beautiful because of how it expresses thoughts. A stanza can have a sharper edge than a paragraph.

But regular poetry isn’t as much fun as making the piece more robust and running with it punk rock style.

Trash Talk Takedown

Fast, distorted acoustic guitar riff kicks in – think heavily strummed power chords on open strings. The bassline is a simple, driving two-note pulse. Drums smash in with a raw, energetic beat.

Verse 1 – snarled vocals with a slight sneer:

Yale-boy prep? Ha! A walk in the park!
Brain fulla books, but heart’s cold and dark!
Can probably smash him, no sweat on my brow!
Intellectual punkdown! Right here, right now!

Chorus – shouting with aggressive energy:

But that redneck scum! Different kind of fight!
Trash-talk barbed wire bard, cuttin’ through the night!
Expertise in ignorance! A weapon hard to beat!
Gonna give it a go! Taste defeat! (maybe!)

Verse 2 – slightly more hesitant, but still defiant:

Gonna try a smile! A weapon of the weak!
Hope my so-called “skills” ain’t utterly bleak!
Dive right in! Head first in the mud!
Pray to the punk gods I don’t wind up a dud!

Chorus – even more frantic and desperate:

But that redneck scum! Different kind of fight!
Dirt road laureate, cuttin’ through the night!
Expertise in ignorance! A weapon hard to beat!
Gonna give it a go! Taste defeat! (definitely!)

Outro – fast, chaotic acoustic guitar strumming fade out with feedback. The bass hits a final, distorted low note. Drums crash to a messy halt.

I’d like to take the opportunity over the month of April to explore the bigger tale of the two rednecks and three, potentially smarter, country gals. It’ll be a new twist to an old story, but I hope it’ll be epic in its own way. After all, it’s National Poetry Month and what better time to explore the realm of rhyming words? And do it in different artistic styles, to boot! The gals really deserve a last word in this matter.

From the Country Gals’ Perspective

Me, Belle and Sue camped out west,
Bright stars above, just takin’ a rest.
Two fellas wandered, lost and hot,
Talkin’ brave, but thinkin’ not.

They said, “We’re headed somewhere grand!”
A map upside-down in a shaky hand.
We smiled sweet and said, “That’s true
You’re headin’ nowhere near Timbuktu.”

We had three tents, they lacked two brains,
Both already lost in the desert plains.
We kept our fire, our food, our loot—
They kept walkin’, what a hoot!

Come back. I’ll have some more trash talk poetry to share next Monday.