OceanicA poem by John Beer |
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| For those about to embark on a journey of discovery That will take them past the point of no return Until everything you thought you knew is history, For those about to stare death in the face, For those about to stop entering the numbers, Heedless of consequence, giving up the rations, The olive oil, chips, the powdered milk, for those About to create a new society, chartered in the trust That only surviving a plane crash without damage To cheekbones or brooding glances can create, Although this brave new world is torn by strife Since Jack thinks Locke is wrong to open the hatch And Sawyer for a while resents the torture Which was necessary, because no one has the right To horde lifesaving medicine when it’s a question Of survival, for those about to learn that they might Be caught in the wheels of a grand experiment Set up by folks in the age of black-and-white Preserved in dusty archives and the odd promo clip, For those about to put their fathers to rest, because they drink Even when about to perform surgery, or because They stole their child’s kidney, or because They’re a mobster who makes Jin do his dirty work, or because They got tricked by a cheap con man into killing themselves Along with your mother, and so you took on the name Of the man you thought responsible, but in the end He was somebody else, and you had to go to Australia To figure everything out, which is where you met The surgeon in a bar, except at that point he wasn’t A surgeon anymore, but just the father of the man Who’d end up ordering the torture, though these days You have more of a problem with his thing for Kate, For those about to find that going home isn’t always an option, Whether you’re a beautiful fugitive or a fat guy Who won the lottery, a member of Driveshaft Or an onlooker sitting at home, so you can’t go home Because you’re already there, for those about to sift The wreckage to find the manifest, for those about to hug, For those about to lose heart, for those about to sink Below the blank blue Pacific, for those about to wonder If this is going anywhere or if they’re just making it up Week by week, flying without a map over the blank Blue Pacific, for those about to switch to a different show, For those about to say that it’s one way, even though It’s the other way, for those about to give up And go home, you can’t go home, You’re already there, for those about to design Their own island, nobody’s an island, John Donne said it first, now he’s out of His wheelchair, for those about to whisper, For those about to shoot, for those About to kill a boar, we defy, for those about To lose a brother, about to build a church, We respect you, for those, for those about to run A marathon, for those about to burn, we observe you, We adore you, we supply you, we reflect you, For those about to talk, we will view you. |
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