Modern Arcana (in progress)

[EmeraldCityBlues]

Ok, here's the deal.
A while ago, this idea came to me (inspired by a Neil Gaiman piece, "15 Painted Cards From A Vampire Tarot."). The idea is that I take 18 of the cards from the classic tarot deck, and write a short poem for each. However, there's a theme of technology and life in the modern world. The working title is "Modern Arcana".
I will be releasing the poems probably in groups of 3 or 4, but this first batch is just 2. And they'll be coming fast, 'cause I'm kinda on a roll. Also, feel free to offer criticism, because I know these first two really aren't that polished. Ok, here are the first ones:

The Chariot
The beast had an iron hide
The beast had bones of steel
The beast lived off the dead, and the love of the people.
The beast consumed the earth to fuel it’s tireless wander.
Sill the people loved the beast
The breath of the beast brought decay and misfortune.
Still, the people loved the beast
And man came to rely on the beast
And all was well


The Emperor
He slicks his hair.
He casts a glance into the mirror
Timidly
As if afraid of the creature that might greet him there
His shoulders are heavy
With guilt,
Trust,
He knows his position
He understands his role
He accepts the grand scheme of things
He straightens his tie
He sighs, heavy
He looks into the sun
The glare
The eager masses
He nods
He smiles
He speaks

Next will be "The Empress", "The Lovers" and "Justice".

 

[Karkat Vantas]

Very nice poetry.

A problem I'm picking up is that some of the lines seem to interrupt the flow... like, say, the line:

"As if afraid of the creature that might greet him there"

In comparison to the shorter lines, it really does stick out and interrupt the flow. I'd probably cut it into two lines (probably between creature and that). It's much more visually appealing.

These are great, by the way.

 

[EmeraldCityBlues]

One word salad, comin' right up.




The Empress

She’s not beautiful, no
Not by any means
But pretty enough
Enough for sideways glances
In crowded halls
Bated breath on the city bus
Smeared lipstick
Running eyeliner
Like water on white stucco
Where she’ll go
After high school
She really doesn’t know
Maybe a
Journalist
nurse
reporter?
Something…
She’s all scribblings in notebooks and wistful thoughts
Maybe caught in the crossfire
When that kid in the back of the classroom
Finally snaps
And comes to school with a loaded .25
Shooting out personal issues
Like clockwork
Maybe a car crash
Bank robbery
Freak accident
Will come along and save her the trouble
Until then, she’ll always be
At the back of the bus
Back of the room
Back of attention
Waiting for change



The Lovers

“omg, where r u?”
“rofl”
“lmfao”
“lol, wtf”
ad nausea, et cetera
her cigarette burns
his white undershirt
cracks in the sidewalk
peeling paint on the walls
crying baby, TV static
50 sirens
suffocating cotton sheets
choking on summer air
holding hands
on the way to the Shell station
“miss u”