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Papa Smurf (Haiku) by Bachus Wise beyond his years.
He protects the smurf berries.
Never knowing why.
Up the ladder:
The Drive In (Drugs broke her, she broke me)
Down the ladder:
Until
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.071429
Posted: November 20, 2002 5:55 PM PST; Last modified: November 20, 2002 5:55 PM PSTWeighted score: 5.783277 Overall Rank: 1717 Comments:
[10]
INTRANSIT @ 152.163.188.228
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20-Nov-02/5:58 PM
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Reply
al the other smurfs left. he just needs closure. whatever that is.
where is the leap where God comes through? is there one in smurfdom?
you really don't care very much for smurfs do you. shame really. you must be very old. and bitter.e
because he can't get his hand away. it's glued firmly in place. that's why.
Brilliant, you have dissected the sinister angst and grief that lies in the true thoughts of the smurfs with panache and a brutal simplicity. All we need now is one for the plight of smurfette.
With this poem, Bachus has hit on a primal cultural archetype. "The Smurfs" was a creepy show. Their skin has a blue pallor, like corpses, or pagan celtic body paint. And the show has strong anti-semitic overtones. Gargamel, their enemy, looks like a nazi cartoon-jew. And he wants to capture the smurfs to make gold. And that cat, Azriel...Israel? hmm? And Gargamel makes the first smurfette, the one with black hair. Lilith? Gnosticism anyone? Hello!
This is the best thing you have ever written.
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