THE EPIC OF TSIKTSIK


An Epic Poem
Interview with the author







There was a young squirrel, Tsiktsik named
who dreamed to travel the world untamed.
Tired o' the usual, bored of his tree,
he longed for something exciting to see.
So he stuffed a bag with acorn and nuts,
big can o' pepper spray for the mutts.
Said goodbye to ma, sister too,
spread his wings and to England flew.
In the months to follow, years to come,
out he cleansed his brain of dumb.
He sailed the Nile, drank Dead Sea,
of Hollywood sign climbed letter “D.”
Jigged Panama to Istanbul,
munched on muktuk two cheeks full.
Eyed up Everest, slept the Great Wall,
winked at princess China doll.
Crusadered castles and pyramid ruins,
perked his ears at cultured tunes.
Peeps at he in simplicity smiled
on freedom road for endless mile.
Colors of pure, image delight,
nature mixed in breathtaking sight.
Critters skittered wondrous trees,
Tsik laughed aloud in awe and glee.
He swam beside turtle and shark
as iguanas gawked and monkeys barked.
O'er Mayan temple eagles soared,
toucan-parrots squawked their lore.
Aztec sculpture bathed in blood,
Olmec heads by crocs in mud.
Through fields of lava jaguars ran,
he peaked volcanoes as a fan.
Momotombo by moon light,
Santiaguito’s awesome might.
Pakman prince, Ganges fish,
Bambam well, cast a wish.
Hindoo exotics, licked his paws,
tried all evils just because.
Sunned and sanded, leaves of palm,
island life its soothing calm.
Partied Mickey and his friends,
om’d with Buddha to transcend.
Held at gunpoint, once drugged too
only thing he gave them was a screw.
He stood where Alexander styled
in triumph Ghengis Khan ran wild.
Bid Confucius sincere adieu,
spoke nephesh as old Hebrew.
Such are sights and truths he found,
a thousand weeks spent underground.
Digging tunnels in the soul,
jamming his own rock and roll.
Back to his tree he now returns
a while, for adventure burns.
In his heart a great love swirls,
polishing a hundred pearls.
One day come time will be,
treasure begets fertility,
A dozen sons, daughters then,
will fill the earth with Tsik-like Zen.
With sweet babes, off his stage
He merries into ancient age.
His epitaph it will read
“Here grows Tsiktsik from sole seed …”
Recycling his itty bitty knees,
sprouting flowers, bugs n bees
carrying Tsik-molecules into new
greens of earth and skies of blue.
Until that day it will dawn,
he conquers forth with brainy-brawn.
Super-hero squirrel, bushy-tailed freak,
he is Tsiktsik, hear him squeak !!









Interview with the Author


The Vampirical Chameleon sheds his skin,
Behold! darling Tsiktsik stands within ...


In a revealing interview with the author of this lyrical piece, it is stated, "Tsiktsik is, by definition, the Inuit word for arctic ground squirrel. The Tsiktsik of this epic legend, however, is actually a punk squirrel from the prairie who, after spending time with his northern cousins, adopted their signature title as his own. The adventures cited herein are all true, with the sole exception of casting a wish into the Bambam well, where it is believed the beautiful Rachel drew water for her father’s sheep and met Jacob. Historical records do testify, though, that Tsiktsik did sip a Bambam cola in the famed city of Esfahan, Iran."

The author continues, “Far too long have we been too serious. In the multi-plicity of the self, a fellow called the Vampirical Chameleon, through violent revolution, established a dictatorship over all other selves, squashing the rest of us under his philosophical boot, overlooking his non-sensical but fun poetic beginnings. Though it is premature to say with certainty, we dare to speculate that this once necessary but now cruel dictatorship may at last be crumbling, with reform and a greater variety of expression slated for future times.”

"This epic poem was conceived in the Ship & Anchor Pub on December 31st, then first rhymed in the humble surroundings of The Keg restaurant -- hungover and starved on New Years day -- where we invited all our selves out for an intimate dinner over a 14 ounce slab of bleeding meat. Back in the Ship & Anchor it was largely written in a matter of hours, being of a frenzied inspiration that no doubt surpassed Nietzsche and his Zarathustra. We entertained the idea of indefinitely expanding this poem in Homeric style, but Homer put us all to sleep with the Iliad, so after a referendum we vetoed the thought. It remains as it should: inspired, playful, short and sweet.”

And thus The Epic of Tsiktsik is written into history …










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