[Alex Pepple]

The Finishing Touch


My craft is rich with history—it’s time-tested
trade, ideas—think Samson and his ass’s
jawbone, Gilgamesh, even Cain who bested
that fated one. My skills can’t rival Nasa’s
but we aim both for that transcendent blast
of rocket. Fess up now that everyone
like us, adepts, gets common stuff recast,
disguise at play. My cane can prop or stun.
I build; I seek that spot for our dry run.

Call me the Maker. Yes, my work is pain-
staking. It’s danger-filled, production rate
is slow. Barbarians who call me insane
yet click for strikes far-off, inside our state.
These gods of war disclaim the uncaged ghost—
sheltered at home with fat budgets and smug
experts. We strive to win at trifling cost!
Thus, I revere these schemes, be it a bug
dispersed to hosts or just a retooled slug.

My leader mandates I don't mind the grand
outcome, but aim for swift and terror-laced.
Your best, he preaches, is when you can brand
the mind in stealth so judgment is displaced.
A shrapnel bleeds; a whispered plague is guerre;
blur certainties; make trusted foothold brittle.
Finished dust-white, this gadget soothes like prayer.
It’s javelin or spear? It’s plane or missile?
Yet, tell me, what harm lies in this epistle?

------------------------------------------------------

~~~First revision ~~~

The Finishing Touch
          (revised text in blue)


My craft is rich with history—it’s time-tested
trade, ideas—think Samson and his ass’s
jawbone, Gilgamesh, even Cain who bested
that fated one. My skills can’t rival Nasa’s
but we aim both for that transcendent blast
of rocket. Fess up now that everyone
like us, adepts, gets common stuff recast,
disguise at play. My cane can prop or stun.
I build; I seek that spot for our dry run.

Call me the Maker. Yes, my work is pain-
staking. It’s danger-filled, production rate
vexingly slow. Some label me insane
for such devotion to what I create—
branded as crude machinery by most
who claim to know, especially, your smug
experts. We strive to win at trifling cost!
Thus, I revere these schemes, be it a bug
dispersed to hosts or just a retooled slug.

My leader often would request, not for
prodigious, but the quick and fear-imbued.
Conceive ideas, that’s how we’ll nurse our lore,
he’d say; and how’d you get their pleasures screwed?
With football, you think cannonball. Make their
perception blur, make trusted foothold brittle.
Finished dust-white, this gadget soothes like prayer.
It’s javelin or spear? It’s plane or missile?
Yet, tell me, what harm lies in this epistle?

------------------------------------------------------

~~~Was previously ~~~

The Finishing Touch


In history, rich, my labor is time-tested
an industry—think Samson and his ass’s
jawbone, Gilgamesh, even Cain who bested
that fated one. My skills may never rival Nasa’s
but we aim both for that transcendent blast
of rocket. Chatter it now, everyone
like us, adepts, has common stuff recast,
disguise at play. My cane, though real, can stun.
I build; I seek that spot for our dry run.

Call me the Maker. Yes, my work is pain-
staking. It’s danger-filled, production rate
vexingly slow. You might not deem me sane
with such devotion to what I create—
labeled as crude machinery by most
who claim to know, especially, your smug
experts. We strive to win at piddling cost!
Thus, I revere this craft, be it a bug
dispersed to hosts or just a retooled slug.

My leader often would request, not for
prodigious, but the quick and fear-imbued.
Conceive ideas, that’s how we’ll nurse our lore,
he’d say; and how’d you get their pleasures screwed?
With football, you think cannonball. Make their
perception blur, make trusted foothold brittle.
Finished dust-white, this gadget soothes like prayer.
It’s javelin or spear? It’s plane or missile?
Yet, tell me, what harm lies in this epistle?

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Alex—

I confess to being totally stumped by this piece. I cannot figure out who the speaker is.
In S1L4, should “Nasa’s” be “NASA’s?” At first I thought perhaps the reference to rivaling NASA might suggest Elon Musk or Jeff Bezos, the oligarchs who are attempting to privatize space travel. The “Maker” in S2L1 suggests God as the N, but that doesn’t work with the rest of the poem, especially the reference to the N’s “leader” in S3L1. I’m clearly missing something here.

Glenn

[Max Goodman]

I'm stumped but intrigued. The javelin/spear, plane/missile dichotomy is nicely phrased, the difference in the use.

Ending by naming the poem an "epistle" stresses the poem as communication to the reader.

Some reactions to technical aspects:
It's an engaging nonce form (or a form I'm unfamiliar with), a sort of cousin to ottova rima.
Some of the enjambments feel awkward, particular the rhymes on "for" and "their."
My ear hears an extra foot in L4.

FWIW.

[Yves S L]

Hello Alex,

So I reckon the N speaks for all makers of weapons throughout history. However, I am not sure that the poem is coherent at a sentence level, sort of sounds like English translated into another language, and then translated back. I am guessing this effect arises from deliberately trying to talk in the language of arcane riddles, but, for all I know, the language might just be buckling under the pressure of sustaining the rhyme scheme. Yeah!

[Julie Steiner]

Hi, Alex!

Iff I'm not completely misreading this myself, I think I can suggest some things that would help readers find their footing faster.

First, swapping S1 and S2 might clue us in faster. Then the poem would begin with "Call me the Maker" — a slight echo of Melville's Moby Dick. [Edited to say: If that sends too many readers down the rabbit hole of thinking that the speaker is God, you could recast all the first-person singulars as first-person plurals, starting with something like "Just call us makers."]

Some suggested tweaks for that stanza:

Call me the Maker. Just call us makers. Yes, my work What we do is pain-
staking. It’s danger-filled, . The production rate,
vexingly slow. You might not deem Some label us insane
with such devotion to what I for how we love the wonders we create—
labeled as crude condemned as "death machinery" by most
who claim to know,. eEspecially your smug
experts. We strive to win, at piddling cost!           >>> Maybe something like elites. But those who blink have always lost.
Thus, I Yes, we revere this our craft, be it a bug
dispersed to hosts or just a retooled slug.

For the other two stanzas—generally, the meter will sound less robotic if you don't drop unstressed syllables like "a" and "the" where they would ordinarily be. We readers have to believe that this narrator is a real person, and that the rhyme and meter just happen to coincide with natural speech patterns, effortlessly. Usually the meter can handle the variation of an extra unstressed syllable here and there.

I don't think the "Cain" / "cane" parallel works. Yes, Cain killed Abel, but since in Genesis there is no mention of a weapon, the idea that weapons manufacturers can claim this as part of their industry's rich history is pretty dubious. Also, mentioning the fondness of this field's practitioners for disguised personal weapons seems like an unhelpful tangent, since those gadgets don't seem to fit with the more large-scale weapons that the narrator seems fascinated with creating. (Besides, can't every cane stun?) In my opinion, that real estate in the poem might be better used to claim that the defense industry is a noble and necessary pursuit that advances the public good, etc.

Off to meetings now....

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

It is one hell of a chunk Alex, to me it is far too dense even far too indulged.

Jan

[Alex Pepple]

Thanks everyone for your interest and attention to this--especially, Glenn, Max, Yves, Julie, Jan!

Your observations, comments, and critiques gave me some food for thought. First, it is a nonce form. And while there's physical and concrete weaponry, it's not limited to that as there's also the psychological and figurative kind. (So, the challenge is to make that easier to pick up!) Thus, Cain isn't misplaced. Yes, the Cain/cane incidence was a happy accident that I chose to embrace!

With that, I hope the revision now posted is an improvement! And I look forward to your thoughts on it.

Cheers,
...Alex

[Yves S L]

Hello Alex,

It still generally reads to me like a caricature of an evil villain speech to me. One basic issue is that stretches such as

Some label me insane
for such devotion to what I create—
branded as crude machinery by most
who claim to know, especially, your smug
experts. We strive to win at trifling cost!

sound to me like filler in the nonce form, in that they are not developing or building on something, but just filling in space and meeting the rhymes.

It is like the persona poem is doing too much persona-ing, and not allowing the picture to build up from the details (something more specific than vague references to various ways of hurting people). Generally, I think the poem is overextened with its theme, especially if you are going to chuck in pyschological and figurative warfare.

Also, I still feel like the phrasing is buckling under the rhyme and meter constraints, especially with phrases like "how’d you get their pleasures screwed?".

It is sort of like the poem is trying to be something other than a list poem of ways to hurt people but has not come upon a coherent rhetorical strategy, and I feel that the form is getting in the way.

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

I have had a look at the revision Alex and am not much wiser unfortunately but that is me in life as well. Some of your rhymes are absolutely delightful.

Jan

[Jan Iwaszkiewicz]

I cannot crack the code Alex, though have enjoyed trying. I see armaments manufacture but then ask why and get no further.