I’m going to stick with the war theme for a few more days, while I celebrate National Poetry Month–seems appropriate. This one is undoubtedly familiar to anyone who studied poetry or literature beyond a cursory look. I’ve included some images for those of you who may not know what a ball turret is–to make it a little easier to let Jarrell’s imagery work for you. My grandfather was a flight engineer on a B-24 Liberator in Africa beginning in 1942.
The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner by Randall Jarrell
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
First, Ron Jeremy ride’s Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball
Next, James Franco & Seth Rogen skewer the ridiculous Kanye West
Every time I hear this clown, Kanye, I remember when rap was something impossibly cool and vaguely alien to an rural Appalachian white guy like me. Compared to Eric B. & Rakim, for example, Big Daddy Kane, Digital Underground…and I’m sure a few dozen more that someone who actually listened to this stuff knows. Those guys could rhyme some poetry! All this Kanye guy needs is a pair of oversized shoes, a squirting flower, and a bright red nose that honks when squeezed. And don’t even get me started on Ms. Achy Breaky–at least she’s clearly walking a path laid out by a savvy image consultant–too bad it’s not a secret path…
This is how it’s done: