Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Cross Post

Slightly off-topic, and I'm not entirely sure about the blogiquette here.

Long story short, someone wrote a letter to a magazine stating that gay romance has no place in the biggest association of writers of romantic fiction. Usual oh-so-concerned tone about slippery slopes and so on.

Letter, links and comments at SBTB inspired a poem, so I posted it over there. After brief consultation with rpc I thought I'd make it today's post as well - it stands alone pretty well. Anyone who had the same 6th grade English teacher might find it rings a bell or two...

O, Buck Morningstar rode out of the West
On a quest for revenge in a fringed leather vest
His trousers bulged oddly, his holster, low-slung
Pulled down by the weight of a six-shooter gun
A saturnine sheikh, with a 'tache and a scar
Planned to wed his foe's daughter, heard Buck Morningstar.

He rode in a fury, burst into the hall
'Mongst kilt-wearing dancers and pirates and all
Then spake the dark bridegroom, a gleam in his eye
(That caused Buck to feel unaccountably shy)
"I'm not going mad, though this may sound bizarre,
"Don't I know you from somewhere, buff Buck Morningstar?"

Those husky tones lifted the veil from Buck's mind
His mem'ries returned in a rush to remind
Him of near-fatal head wound and dastardly plot
To take him away from the love he'd forgot.
"It's you, Ram!" breathed Buck, "Whom I loved from afar!"
Grammar brought back Ram's feelings for Buck Morningstar.

"Buck, when they hit you, I thought you were dead!
"The trauma then wiped you right out of my head!
"Look, we've read the guidelines, and know this should end
"With burned biscuits, and handcrafts* for me and my friends
"Are too studly to kill off - dames like my scar.
"Can you stick endless sequels, brave Buck Morningstar?"

And with that the sheikh called his Zeta Force chums
They summoned a 'copter, black, bristling with guns
And flew through the sunset to Buck's secret den,
While the bride put her comfortable shoes on again,
Leaving jeans that must zip by aid of crowbar
To the sheikh and his cowboy, buff Buck Morningstar.

*redemptive ones, of course. But it didn't scan.


RPC said...

Truly is a marvel. Brokeback has nothing on this.

One question: are we implying a marriage of convenience 'twixt Sheikh and bride to expedite a visa (for example)? With the bride 'putting her comfortable shoes again', I wondered if she was a Sister of Saphho?

EvilAuntiePeril said...

Ah... the miracle of poetry. So much ambiguity. Half the time even I don't know what it really means.

Was sort of inspired by thoughts about what kind of consequences people might fear. But really it's probably all down to who organised the dastardly plot, and their motives.

RPC said...

For some reason I am visualising Buck Morningstar as a Buzz Lightyear in human form. Or perhaps that's wishful thinking. That's the trouble with fiction, you create a monster in peoples' minds.

jmc said...

Oh, young Lochinvar, what a memory flash!

Clearly Walter Scott was aiming for the same poem you've written. All that stuff about steeds and broadswords in his version was just coded language -- he wasn't interested in the bride, he wanted the bride's brother (the fair cousin the bridesmaids whispered about).

EvilAuntiePeril said...

How right you are, jmc. So many lines left wide open for interpretation. And I always thought Scott was a bit too down on the bridegroom.

rpc - who said anything about fiction?

ames said...

This was great!!

Selah March said...

Auntie, darling. You give good meter. We should scrawl your name and number on restroom walls far and wide. ;)

fiveandfour said...

For some reason I am visualising Buck Morningstar as a Buzz Lightyear in human form.

And I was visualising Buck Rogers - god help me!

EvilAuntiePeril said...

Thank you, ames & Selah. Very much appreciated.

fiveandfour, as soon as as I thought of the name, I spent the next hour or so trying very hard not to picture Capt. Rogers.

But that led to either a Tweekie-type noise going off in my brain somewhere behind my right ear, or thoughts of Mr. Rogers. Neither of which helped much. Buck Rogers is much safer than the alternative.

fiveandfour said...

Oh that Tweekie noise was in my inner ear, too. It was kind of a soundtrack for the Buck and the Ram, there in the background adding another layer of emotional depth to their reunion scene.

Imagination can be a cruel bitch sometimes.

Though I suppose even with the noise, that's better than Mr. Rogers. 'Cause Mr. Rogers getting it on with anyone, much less a sheikh? Sooooo not where I want my mind to go!

Kate R said...

it's beeutiful art. makes my heart throb.

EvilAuntiePeril said...

fiveandfour, glad you caught the Tweekie noises. They're a remarkably under-used poetic device, but I think when used with care, they add a subtle poignancy. Although they don't have the emotional punch of a shiny white lycra jumpsuit.

Isn't Mr. Rogers a monk?

kate, I think I was aiming to make somthing throb, so thank you.

fiveandfour said...

They're a remarkably under-used poetic device, but I think when used with care, they add a subtle poignancy.

Oh, so true. So true.

I now fear some e-ville minded person coming across this and writing up some Mr. Rogers fanfic/p0rn. 'Cause even monks need some lovin', ne c'est pas? (I'm now thinking of Paul Bettany's self-flagellation scene in The Da Vinci Code. Is it wrong that it was my favorite in the whole movie? "Gimme a paddle," was all I could think.)

Who knew one could move from Mr. Rogers to self-flagellation so easily? Jaysus, I need a brain bleach now.

EvilAuntiePeril said...

I need a brain bleach now.

I'm still thinking of Tweekie. It's not helping much.