Four Men

there are four men in­side of me
and they are al­ways at war.
the boys drink their whisky and
plug big round red holes of hate
in each oth­er. when they get
low on am­mo they patch each oth­er
up, pass around the bot­tle and
take pot­shots at passer­by.
af­ter awhile they make enough
to go buy some more am­mo and
whisky. when they leave I run
out and pick up the shells.
if I hold one up to my ear
some­times I hear me whis­per­ing.

Workshop if ye be men of val­or, for the en­trance to this cave is guard­ed by a crea­ture so foul, so cru­el that no man yet has fought with it and lived! Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no fur­ther, for death awaits you all with nasty, big, pointy teeth.

6 thoughts on “Four Men

  1. As re­quest­ed by Mr. Adam “would al­so help if you left this in­fo as com­ments” Harvey, I post this email dis­cus­sion of said po­em:

    L: i think you should blog about some­thing in­ter­est­ing and deep to­day.

    AH: done and done

    L: damn.
    you’d make a good wife.

    AH: no re­al­ly, i’m al­ready done

    L: i know.
    dork.
    i like the last two lines.
    deep.
    and in­ter­est­ing.

    AH: is the mis­spelling too much?

    L: it may throw a per­son a bit.
    i was won­der­ing about that my­self…

    AH: i want it to sound child­like though…

    L: re­al quick – i won­der if you’re gonna mis­spell “four” in the first line whether you may wan­na mis­spell it in the ti­tle as well?
    and ac­tu­al­ly, i didn’t get that. i thought you were go­ing for red­necky. heh heh. though that just may be that i didn’t read it close enough. al­though. if you were go­ing for child­like, i won­der, would a child have such depth of re­flec­tion and un­der­stand­ing of the peo­ple war­ring in­side of them… al­so, would they have knowl­edge about whiskey-drink­ing and stuff (i think that’s what leaned me in the di­rec­tion of red­necky).

    AH: i changed the ti­tle be­fore you sent this. hehe.
    and okay. will think on the gim­mick a lit­tle more.

    L: al­so, might you want to mis­spell some­thing in the last two lines as well? just won­der­ing b/​c they kin­da set them­selves aside by the pre­cise­ness and crisp­ness of the lan­guage which is a bit dif­fer­ent then the rest of the po­em. i do like them lines though.

    AH: per­haps i should f— up the gram­mar in­stead of just mis­spelling then. cuz the last line has fucked up gram­mar

    L: wow. my gram­mar clear­ly sucks. what’s f-ed up about it?

    AH: “me whis­per­ing” “my­self whis­per­ing”

    L: oh. heh heh.
    eh. gram­mar shmam­mer.

    (*weep­ing qui­et­ly to my­self for my gram­mar suck­age*)

  2. i got the red­neck vibe as well, but felt that it still worked that way.
    i might al­ter the be­gin­ning to:
    “the for men in­side me are al­ways at war”

  3. I’ve re­vised this to be a bit tighter, and spelt every­thing cor­rect-like this time. the short sen­tences at the end are still a bit too chop­py i think. the front flows more.

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