Odesession

An Ode to National Novel Writing Month

Sixteen sixty-six point six repeating?
Pssht, that’s nothing; I’m not retreating.
Crack open my box of wine and sit.
50,000 words? That ain’t shit. 

Okie dokie, Word, here I come…
“File —> Open —> New.” Aaaaand done!
I got my bestseller outlined; all set and groovy.
I wonder if they’ll let me star in the movie?

Now, where to start? Amid some action?
Or some exposition to help gain traction?
A mix of both; moderation is key.
Screw you, cursor, stop staring at me!

First sentence down. It’s damn sweet!
In fact, it’d make a really good Tweet…
While I’m at it, put in on my Facebook wall.
Naysayers, I’m in it for the long haul!

Click clack clack, O keyboard of mine,
you’ll for sure earn your stripes this time.

“His eyes grew wide as he heard—”
Wait, how many times have I used that word?
CTRL+F: “E - Y - E - S…”
Oh, dear God, what a mess!
I mean, seriously, twelve instances?
It makes me, um, really wince… stances….

Let’s just… hmm…. click, drag, highlight…
526 words?! That can’t be right!
Fuck it, I’ll fix it later when I revise…
but seriously, why so obsessed with eyes?
It’s probably a human trait, a solution…
wikipedia.org, type in “evolution…”

80 minutes later (or has it been a week?)
Carlos II was so inbred that he could barely speak!

Hahaha— wait, didn’t my Mom once tell me
there’s European on her side of the family?
To ancestry.com! Man, I haven’t been here
since that school project I did freshman year!
“Find famous relatives?” Of course! *Click*
Centuries of history available right quick!
Chaucer? Dickenson? Woolf? This is so exciting!
This must be why I’m super rad at writing!

Wait: writing… Oops, got a bit sidetracked.
I’ll call it “research.” Gives it more impact.
Welp, bedtime! Tomorrow’s goal is completing
three three thirty-three point three repeating. 

…go figure, writing embarrassing odes is a lot harder than it seems. I’ve been busy playing editor for an online magazine and script reading for a film festival.

As always, Odesession is open for submissions. I’m shocked we haven’t received any Doctor Who odes yet… where are the Whovians?

This can’t just be me rhyme-gushing about how much I love Wil Wheaton. We have standards here… now, what rhymes with “ladyboner?”

This is what Odesession & Friends do on Twitter.

CS Khazinsky:

An Ode to Colonel Saul Tigh

Drunk was the Colonel Saul Tigh,
when the Cylons came to destroy mankind.
On New Caprica, they tore out his eye,
so he bombed them tin bitches half blind.

He stood on the bridge of the Battlestar ship,
thinking of whiskey like a son of a bitch.
Between shit hitting fans, he’d retire for a nip,
and avert certain disaster while totally blitzed.

Never one for politics, he fought the good fight,
and led the resistance with no depth perception.
After a setback he’d booze up all night,
and keep drinking as hangover contraception.

He poisoned his wife and murdered recruits,
with unrelenting, if hazy, moral vision.
And never easing up on the alcohol abuse,
he started to have glitchy premonitions.

Now, rooms fall quiet when he stumbles in,
wrinkled coat spotted with drool,
and salty-white stubble smelling of gin,
flying high and hammered, he rules.

Barking orders, all sweat and scowl 
with one black eye and a raspy growl,
he makes the tough-ass tactical decisions,
fierce as a Viper decked out with munitions.

Keeping it real, killing toasters, the XO.
Wait. What? He’s a Cylon. Frak no!

An Ode to Eureka’s Sheriff, Jack Carter

There’s a small town nestled in the northwest
and, though the life expectancy isn’t the best,
I wish I were smart enough to live there.
Not because of the fresh forest air,
or the population of scientists and nerds…
Oh dear, how can I really put this into words?

It’s the local police department, I dare say;
put me in some handcuffs and take me away.
Get me my inhaler, I’ll have an asthma attack
over Eureka’s own Sheriff, a man called Jack.
Former US Marshall turned local badass,
there’s some Sexy in today’s forecast.

Mmmm… sexy with a chance of wet dreams,
(I might be taking these rhymes to bad extremes…) 

He came to town after making a wrong turn
making my eyebrows raise and my heart yearn.
Using his everyman logic, he solved a case
making Eureka his new permanent place.
He’s there whenever an experiment goes awry
walking through walls or floating into the sky.

Lemme do you a favor and solve this case fast
that victim caught a glimpse of your glorious ass.

Oh, those baby blues! Whenever I see ‘em,
I want them more than anything from Cafe Diem.
With your tight sheriff shirt and matching pants,
I’ll give you more than just a second glance.
So nevermind that chick, Allison Blake,
I’m a wheezing geek who’ll be your first mistake!

C’mon, what does this chick have more than me?
Other than great skin, amazing ‘brows, and a PhD?

I love you no matter what timeline you’re in,
Potential time paradoxes? Double win!
You’re sexy in the present and the past so far,
even when you’re buddy buddy with Gaius Baltar.
Even up at G.D., it’s your freakin’ face I cherish….
Though there is something about that Dr. Parrish… 

My God, all the shits I would lose
if I were ever forced to choose… 

Now, I’m not a jealous type who’ll cause a stir…
But that slut, S.A.R.A.H.? You’re always inside her.
I know now why you live underground, restrained…
It’s the only way your dreaminess is contained!
Airtight with concrete walls two feet wide…
Trust me, it’s impossible to tunnel your way inside.

Now, you may think I’m a basket case,
but how do I make you make that face? 

So that’s my ode to you, Sheriff Carter.
IQ 111, you don’t need to be any smarter.
Thinking about you both thrills and excites…
Go ahead and read me my Miranda Rights!
Next time you’re sucked into an alternate reality,
be a peach and materialize right next to me!

stopitsgingertime:

An Ode To Tom Hiddleston (Original Song)

I have a feeling a lot of my followers will relate to this.

“I can’t contain the things you make me feel / With your stupid perfect face.”

That should basically be Odesession’s tagline. Nice work, Ginger Time.

*as much as a mouth-breathing, ode-ing nerd can be.

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acharansa:

Most people have heard of Pokemon
Some have been following since Season One
From the very first generation you see
There is one Pokemon that is very dear to me

Magikarp is its glorious name
Yet most say it is the most useless in the game
But I shall tell you of its power
And to its strength you shall cower 

From its base health of 20 points
The Magikarp shall never disappoint
80 base speed is a very high stat
Doubling in rain beats even that 

Trainers argue that splash is a useless move
Speaking as a Pokemon master I disapprove
A Magikarp that has lived for years
Can jump so high it will bring you to tears 

Tackle is its weakest and worst attack
But mock it and reality will hit you with a whack
Most people laugh until they have no breath
But I’ll have you know that’s 10 kilos of pure death 

A Magikarp is practically legendary
Flail is its final move and is incredibly scary
With no more attacks this move shall occur
With 200 attack your Pokemon shall faint in a blur

You’ve heard my ode and you must be in awe
However the Magikarp has one major flaw
Its evolution is complete utter garbage
So make sure you use the B button to your advantage

MyLiquorLife:

An Ode to Jawsh… er… Josh Hutcherson

You started out young, so I ignored you at first
But then you became legal and I was coerced
There was no fighting, your jawline is fierce
I couldn’t help it, my heart it’s pierced

Among other things…

Short isn’t bad, stature doesn’t equal power
Not with a jaw that can make enemies cower
So forget about strength and just swing that great chin
Knock out all in your path, the Hunger Games win

She doesn’t love you, she never could
Obsessed with survival out there in the wood
So screw Katniss, I’ll take the bitch out
Just to get close to that darling mouth

I’d trust you to save me and do so with defiance
I’d be sure to repay you with a sexy alliance
Always rebelling in movies, wanting to yell “Fuck you”
If you play your cards right, I’ll see what I can do

Rebel for me, baby.

Strong yet kind, a Herculean face
The toughest jaw of the human race
You may be creeped out and shoot me a glare
But my love for your jaw I just had to share

A Re-Ode to Sparks McGee, Wesley Crusher’s alter ego
(A sequel to this ode)

It was to Wesley Crusher I was originally smitten,
But then, overnight, his personality was rewritten.
He rounded a corner in a sweet cowboy hat,
and since he was shirtless, we could all see his tat:
it’s a dragon humping a shark, inked down his spine.
Hot damn, how can I make this Sparks guy all mine?

Flying through the air with his shrewd intellect,
he’s running from the vagina he just wrecked.

With an air of cool calm, he pulled out his phaser,
with eyes of confidence that cut like a razor,
and shot a random passerby with nary a blink.
For what kind of reason, I dare not even think.
That McGee kills some to keep others on their toes…
He winked at me once and it dissolved all my clothes.

Oh Sparks, I promised myself I would never submit
to the Bad Boy that reeks of rebellion and grit.
But one look at your face, and at those sweaters too,
I would jump in the backseat of your Trans Am with you.
We’d ride down to Ten Forward and punch Riker in the face
Just to knock that beard off and show him his place!

And when Worf sends security to make sure you’re caught,
you’ll just laugh, wink, and say, “I got a course you can plot.
It’s the course of my foot kicking your Klingon ass!”
In a sign of surrender, he’ll just bow as you pass.
You’ll be walking away from an explosion in slow motion
never once looking back or showing any emotion.

You’ll stop by Deanna’s office on your way to the top
though she feels your intentions, she doesn’t say, “Stop.”
You can take her however and whenever you wanna
and when done, you say, “Meh, you’re no Lwaxana.”
A man like McGee can never be tamed
leaving a trail of women both sated and shamed.

Here on the bridge the final showdown takes place,
the destinies of Picard and McGee interlace.
You face off like cowboys, a duel at high noon,
causing men to tear up and women to swoon.
A flash of your hands, such a bloody tableau,
you smirk as you say, “I just made it so.”

After kicking Picard’s dead body aside
you sit in your new chair, head high with pride.
Such virile aura, never a wrong order to rescind,
I just got pregnant by merely standing downwind!
So I’m sorry I ever admitted to loving Wesley,
please make me the future Ex Mrs. McGee.

(Special thanks to The Adventures of Sparks McGee for inspiration!)