A Poem on the Occasion of Morrissey's Cancelled Show
I've never seen Morrissey in concert, and who knows if The Smiths will ever reunite (highly unlikely), so as a longtime fan, I was excited when I heard he would be playing a show in Tempe. First, he was scheduled to perform at the Marquee Theatre on November 21; then it was postponed. Then the show was rescheduled for February 10, and postponed again. It finally was rescheduled for April 19, but, ultimately, canceled for good.
Singer with an ulcer I know, I know it's serious.
Morrissey had good reason, of course. In a press release, he revealed that he has "suffered a series of medical mishaps over the past few months including a bleeding ulcer, Barrett's esophagus and double pneumonia." Although I understand he had good reason, I was still disappointed, so I expressed it like Morrissey would: With his own words.
April 19th: The Joke Isn't Funny Anymore
A cento after Morrissey/The Smiths
Dear god, please help me:
Because of my poor education,
Everyday is like Sunday
Friday mourning, he cried:
I am two people.
Sweet and tender hooligan:
This is not your country;
The queen is dead.
The joke isn't funny anymore.
Maladjusted, on the streets I ran.
He cried: Money changes everything,
Hold on to your friends.
How can anybody possibly know how I feel?
I will see you in far-off places;
I don't mind if you forget me.
The world is full of crashing bores.
That's how people grow up.
In the future, when all's well,
I'm throwing my arms around Paris.
There's a place in hell for me and my friends.
The edges are no longer parallel:
I'm the end of the family line.
Trouble loves me.
Why don't you find out for yourself?
Certain people I know,
Stretch out and wait.
To me you are a work of art.
Is it really so strange?
Stop me if you think you've heard this one before.
I have forgiven Jesus;
I'll never be anybody's hero now:
Irish blood, English heart.
My life is a succession of people saying goodbye.
Now I am a was.
Sister, I'm a poet,
On the streets I ran.