Supplication and Fermentation
Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Blurry Mal done in layers and booze. - Set post-series. Rated PC for 'possibly confusing'.


An experiment in Dopey Poetic Voice, written in February.

Mal. Set post-series, pre-movie. References to the whole series.

It's neither prayer nor confession nor nostalgia, but even if Mal knew what exactly it is, he likely wouldn't admit it.

---------------------------------- "Supplication and Fermentation" ----------------------------------

Malcolm Reynolds had impure relations with a whore.

Call the preacher, Mrs. Reynolds, your son has fallen into a life of sin.

(There's not soap enough in the 'verse.)

Dead men don't tell tales, Shepherd Brown. It's been (six weeks) seven years since my last confession.

(Don't tell Ma.)

I was sinning at the time.

There's filth clings to your soul, son.

(Something has to, preacher.)

Your daily recommended amount of dear and fluffy mockery is five. Seven when the Shepherd gets uppity.

(That's not you, Shepherd Brown.)

I honor the day of my crucifixion.

Your hands are fit to leave stains where they touch. Turned away from what cleanses.

Got buried to the elbow in human dissolution.

There's chains enough to hold you down.

...underwater, like to drown.

(Here we go.)

Mal has always been a clown. Wears his bitter thorny crown. Drag the tale about the town. Make your pious elders frown.

(Run out, son?)

Thank you kindly, Shepherd Brown.

Mal Reynolds is the product of fornication out of wedlock. Can't no good come of it. (Daddy didn't want me enough to stay.)

(Malcolm Reynolds is a bigot.)

(What's the point of exceptions?)

I murdered (four thousand) twenty-five men and I don't think they all deserved it.

(Are you sorry?)

(I sold my rosary for a drink on Paquin.)

Malcolm Reynolds had impure relations with a whore, even though he got married by accident.

She never wore a wedding gown.

(Shut up, son.)

(I miss you, preacher.)

Best take of my career was a plastic gun don't even work.

(God forgives.)

(I don't.)

Malcolm Reynolds has not born false witness against his neighbor nor desired his neighbor's wife.

(He's probably married to her, anyway.)

I don't desire my neighbor's goods.

I don't love my neighbor.

I don't have a neighbor. In space, no neighbors can hear you fight.

Mal will throw the first stone.

(And get called "petty" in return.)

Malcolm Reynolds is alone in an empty shuttle with a bottle of hooch like Old Man Petrovsky.

(Love your liver like you love yourself.)

There is a cause of suffering, which is attachment and desire.


(That's not my field of expertise.)

Malcolm Reynolds had impure relations with a whore because she knew what it's like.

(And he lied to her.)

(Lord have mercy.)

And then she died.

(I am sorry.)

I am hungry.

(Give us today our daily bread.)

Malcolm Reynolds had impure relations with a whore. And it wasn't even the one he wants.

(None of it means a damn thing.)

Fold your hands like your mother taught you.

Save us from the (time of trial) hangover, and deliver us from (evil) running into Kaylee on the way to my bunk.

(Sway with grace.)

I am a mean, old man.

(And yet your cup runneth over.)

(Not tonight it won't.)

Bed your head in the ashes, child.

If I should die before I wake...








Tuesday, December 19, 2006 5:47 AM


I agree with AWindsor - it was confusing, but for all the right reasons. It is definitely open to interpretaion, which in my estimation is the mark of a good poem.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006 7:09 AM


I enjoyed this. It was confusing in a drunken-stream-of-consciousness way, which is what you were going for, right? Very cool and different. I hope you post another one.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006 9:38 AM


Yep...utterly amazing in the most "drunk out of one's gourd" mindset of inebriation;D


Tuesday, December 19, 2006 9:56 PM


Thank you, all of you. :) I'm very relieved to know that it works. Something about Mal's layered mess of a mind just lends itself to quirky structure, but it's one thing to have it in one's head and another to translate it page-wise, so.. whew!

Thank you for reviewing!

Tuesday, October 16, 2007 10:52 PM


ah, i liked this - enjoyed the line about confession coz it reminded me of the Inara/Book scene in the Pilot - she's kinda mary magdelene in that bit...

in any case - i loves me a fractured style - really wish i'd cottoned on to you sooner. "I honor the day of my crucifixion.

Your hands are fit to leave stains where they touch. " tasty.

and you did the whole thing with humour too.

Thursday, November 8, 2007 6:07 PM


"I honor the day of my crucifixion.

Your hands are fit to leave stains where they touch. "

I'm with Wytchcroft -- that's a lovely, lovely line.


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