Poetry Break: "Thrashin' Cane"

Inferno by Paul Gustave Doré (1832-1883)

Illustration 25 to Dante's Divine Comedy

"Oh! that deep romantic chasm . . ."

(Image from Wikipedia)

Some time has passed since our last poetry break, but my site meter shows that blog hits here at Gypsy Scholar have been creeping up again, so I figure the time has come to discourage internet visitors by once again revealing a glimpse of my dark side.

Without further ado, here stands the poem:

Thrashin' Cane

I'd cut that cane
and bring 'um down,
Then thick, rich sap
would stain the groun',
And I'd feel better
all aroun'
. . . except I'm hardly able.

I'd crush that cane
and make 'um bleed,
I'd stop 'um ever
bearin' seed,
Just treat 'um like
a lowly weed
. . . except I feel unable.

I'd grind that cane
into the earth,
I’d make 'um ever
rue that birth --
Thus denigrate
all human worth
. . . except I'm just not able.

I suppose that I could just title it "Original Sinning" and lose more visitors that way, but "Thrashin' Cane" will serve to initially entice but quickly disappoint the S&M crowd, who will have hoped for more "beneath the thresher's flail."

For the benefit of trivia freaks, this poem was one of those that Jon Whitlock and I put to music and sang in our country-music concert when we were both studying in Tuebingen back in the early 1990s.