Through the Computer Screen

By Jonathan Jay Brandstater, copyright 1998

While I was playing Solitaire one day,
I heard a strange, unfamiliar voice say
"For more fun, click upon the mouse
And pay a visit to our humble house."
I clicked upon the mouse and lo!
Suddenly the computer screem didst glow.
Then a virtual hole appeared and became very wide.
Next thing I knew, I was deep inside.

I was falling, afalling, down, down way down.
I feared if I hit water, I would surely drown.
I held my nose, just in case
There was a virtual ocean in this strange place.

My feet struck a surface which glowed a fluorescent green.
It proved to be a massive, phosphorescent trampoline.
All around me, I heard the silliest of rhymes.
Someone was singing hilarious songs,
Like, "Who cares about the differences between rights and wrongs?"
When I stopped bouncing, I looked for a door.
I was surrounded by doors, numbered one to thirty four.
I tiptoed off the tarpaulin, headed for number nine.
Next thing I knew I was in a hallway, without an exit sign

. The singing continued.
I followed the sound.
The hallway seemed to circle
Around and around.
Suddenly I heard the sound of someone
Clearing his throat.
I spun around, gawked and let out a very startled shout.

The one I sought had found me!
"Hello good sir," said he.
My name is Jay Bloker.
My occupation is court jester, fool, clown and joker.
Welcome to our humble abode of cards.
Let's take a little tour.
We can have tea afterwards.
He showed me to another door.

The jester was clad in black and white
Just like a Harlequin.
Upon his head was a red fool's cap.
On his face was a toothy grin.
The fellow looked quite familair.
I wondered how this could be.
The reason was quite a big surprise
: He was a carbon copy of me!

"Come, let us be off," my double said.
"I have friends for you to meet.
There are quite a few of them, you know,
About fifty-one to greet."

Four cards appeared before us.
Each one had the number "Two"
On the top left hand corner.
My curiosity sure grew.
"Hello my friends,' said the jester.
"How are you this fine sunny day?"
"We're fine," said the rectangular foursome.
Is it Deuces you'd like to play?"
"I don't know the game; sorry,"
I said by way of apology.
"There is no need to say that.
We could always have some tea."
Then foursome then wandered off.
We were then joined by another.
This one consisted of a group of threes.
Each one looked like his brother.
They sang us a little song,
That was absurd, to say the least,
About the habits of exotic beasts
And the effects of brewer's yeast.

"We are threes," they sang.
"We never talk in slang.
Do not provoke us please
We'll fight you nail and fang.
We are four three.
We have bees' knees.
We don't like fleas.
We relish cheese.
We collect golfers' tees.;
From under birch trees.
Don't tease us please,
Or you we'll freeze."

Then the threes danced away.
To be replaced by fours.
These cards said nothing;
They just made for the doors.

"Not very friendly," said my new friend and double.
Let's not pursue them.
They often cause a lot of trouble.'
We were then joined by fives,
Sixes and sevens.
They entertained us with music.
It was like being in Heaven.
THEN came the Eights,
Who plied us with wares,
Both hardware and software,
From collapsable chairs.

THEN came a foursome,
Dressed to the nines.
They wore matching outfits
And carried cardboard signs.
One sign was blank.
Each of the others bore one word.
I don't know what the intended message was.
The whole arrangement was absurd.

The tens were chatterboxes.
They had a lot to say.
Repeating what they said,
Would take at least a day.

At last came the court cards,
A very regal bunch.
THEY invited us to the palace,
For a truly regal brunch.

The Jacks regaled us with tales of conquest
Upon the battle field.
They showed off their gold finery:
Armor, plume, sword and shield.

The queens flirted with me
And plied me with food, wine and water.
The kings each told me they wanted to fix me up
With his youngest eligible daughter.

All this was fine and dandy, I thought,
More fun than real life.
In virtual reality I'm treated like a king.
I can even have a wife.

A voice brought me out of my reverie:
"It's time for us to go back."
Suddenly the scene around me faded away
And everything went black.

I was staring at my computer screen
. I had won at Solitaire.
The victory was a hollow one.
I did not really care.

I had had a fantastic adventure
Beyond the computer screen.
I had met some interesting characters
The likes of whom I had never seen.

Was it all a dream? I wondered.
As I exitted the game.
Then I heard a little chuckle.
From the speakers, a familiar voice came.
"Come and visit often
Your family of virtual cards.
Hang out with your cyberfriends
And have a fine meal afterwards."

A face appeared on the computer screen.
Its eyes were glowing bright.
One eye closed in a rapid wink;
Then the face was gone from sight

E Mail the Poet

Born Again of The Human Race

"I love you," she said,
"But I love him more,
And, yes, we're to wed."
And closing the door,
"He needs me," I heard,
A sad parting word.

...

On the interstate,
Speeding, I cannot wait
And no place to go
And no time to slow.
Hattiesburg draws near,
Near where I was born,
In times of good cheer
And high golden corn.
More sorrow lives here,
In graves old and worn.

Dusty marble stone
With my father's name,
Dead the peace I've known
And nothing the same.
Fingers trace the groove,
Wiping the dirt away,
Unable to move,
Unwilling to stay

New Orleans I hear,
Across the great lake,
Is a place of some cheer,
A cure for heartache.
So I traveled there ...

They don't drink much water
In the old French Quarter.
It's wine and song and Jazz,
Naked men and ladies,
And neon lights that blaze.
They eat, drink, laugh and tease.

Fresh farmer's faces,
By sidewalk painters
And street dancers dance.
The way clogged with those
Seeking a new chance,
Where nobody knows.

Morning comes in a musty room
With mouth dry and stomach queasy.
My head throbs, an omen of doom,
The night lost to the Big Easy,
Standing there in frigid shower,
The past events a welcome blur.

In search of coffee and beignet,
I walk narrow streets in quiet
With those who come early to pray
At the great church, or just to sit
On benches and feed city birds.
Someone sings, I don't know the words.

Dark rich coffee and sweet pastry
Settle down uneasily,
As I walk along Canal Street
To see its end and the river.
Some sense must have guided my feet,
Of my own sadness a prisoner.

A poster at Custom House door,
A ship at sea cutting water,
"Come in if you want to know more."
Lines were long at Air and Navy;
So, reckless, I chose the Army.

...

Walking dusty miles, summer heat,
Too tired to eat, to sick to care,
And most of all, no time to sleep.
Marching, running, crawling there,
I found no time to mourn or weep,
Just learning how to kill and die,
Seldom moments to wonder why.

...

Fireworks talk in summer storm,
Mortar fire, machine gun swearing,
Men I knew lay dead, a new form,
Dissected, reeking, life draining,
And rain until the end of time,
Mud, steaming blood, and rotten slime.

I screamed and fired into the night,
Found caring somewhere lost inside,
With fear and hope a distant light,
With living on my mind, I cried.

Remembered dreams came welcome there.
Laughter and tears, I can now share,
Born in war, in a distant place,
Born again of the human race.

© 1998 rex brewer

E Mail the Poet