The World's First-ever Game Review Poetry Column:
Classic Games, Classically Reviewed—as Only a Fop Could
The Fop’s Rating: ★★★½ (Out of Four Stars)
Pixelated Uzis, Y’allSquare yellow high-top fade,
Shooting green drums,
Tick, tick, tick—
Granadan charlies, dead or alive,
Burn through your glass belly,
Passing powder as the ever-chambered round,
Blazing black, up and disappearing.
For mega crush, charge “B” and release.
Manhole covers sit forbearing,
Lightpoles, props forgotten
In a town occupied
As a hostage to be shot,
Gnarled, banged and granting
To you, red Duke,
No bullet better used
Than the one now fired.
It’s high time to punch a man with a mohawk.
Boss battles pare to the fist,
Maybe from a barrel overheated
Or conscience later nagged
From the floor-full stacks
Of lead-templed goons
Still men yet.
The hell with ’em.
You got an iron fuckin’ hand,
Whose grip, feel, flight and fire
Cock as a gun to gleaming shoulder,
Stem-wound, haymaker-stout and recalling
A “D” bomb and time none better
Than jabbing some gas grill man or clear-domed freak
With an aching-yellow dynamite dose.
Some dukes are kings. ❂