Tin Soldier

Ethel’s Hipster Poetry Nook

Note: This article is hosted here for archival purposes only. It does not necessarily represent the values of the Iron Warrior or Waterloo Engineering Society in the present day.

Welcome, my friends. Have a seat. Grab a coffee. Relax. Adjust your berets and put on your best snappin’ fingers, because today we have a very special treat for you. Yes, here in Ethel’s Hipster Poetry Nook, where the cool cats sip hot coffee you’ve never heard of with the most obscure artists of our time whose names you can’t pronounce, we bring you only the finest of beat poetry. We travel far around the world to bring you the words that will shape the very day you hear them only to be dashed upon the hopes of tomorrow as we open palm slap yesterday. So my friends, close your eyes, open your mind, and snap ya fingaz to the smooth wordsmithing of MC Chyneh Whyhte!

(Editors note: You should be snapping now. No, we don’t care who’s around you. Snap. Now. Also, through the magic of words, you should be picturing all of this in your head, so imagine that a new man steps forward to the imaginary microphone.)

Hello through the blogosphere, beautiful lovers of acoustic voice imagery. Allow me to introduce my latest creation from my atmosphere of hip creative juices. You see, being a beat poet and lover of all things artistic takes me to strange lands, lands you may have never heard of to hear and see art that you’ll probably never hear of either. One such land is the far-off island of mainland China. This densely populated mainland island is a hub of creative inspiration, as the very system of logic you take for granted is widely non-existent. You see, my dear spiced-chai-machiatto-orange-frap-sipping friends, it’s not that China particularly does anything WRONG, but rather that the line of thinking typically seen on Mainland China is completely unfathomable to our way of doing things. And so, from this, I present to you: Because China. Please, begin snapping now.

(Editors note: Do it.)

Drunkenly, I stumble.

The streets are heavy with parties. It is Saturday.

Iron Man gets into a taxi.

 

Why? Because China.

 

I order creme brulee.

The waitress brings me pudding.

I harden it with a laser.

 

Why? Because China.

 

I awake naked on the floor, covered loosely in a terry cloth robe.

The sounds of the doorbell push out drunken shame to fill my pulsing head.

My butler enters the room, apologizes, and continues cleaning the room.

He cares not that I am sleeping under the sink.

 

Why? Because China.

 

The back of a car on a crowded highway,

I work from the back seat. My driver watches Beyonce’s documentary.

He reads the Chinese subtitles. He is driving.

 

Why? Because China.

 

We speed down the highway, suddenly devoid of traffic.

I wonder aloud (for he cannot understand) how our driver found this windfall.

We are on the sidewalk.

 

Why? Because China.

 

In a restaurant, I swing from the rope swing chairs.

I order deep fried squid from the cute waitress.

My food arrives, served by a clown on stilts.

I am in a fancy restaurant.

 

Why? Because China.

 

Peace.

 

(Editors note: At this point, he dropped the mic and walked out, flashing a peace sign over his head.)

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