I have been searching my flesh
for any imperfections.
There were many, but I felt
that I would be strong
as always.
But last night in a dream,
I was about to kick the devil
and sleep was broken
when I kicked the wall,
and one of my toes bled.
This very wall I have built
has made me bleed and suffer pain.
It stands there independent,
steadfast and strong,
proud of its existence.
Earlier last night
I watched this Chinese movie
set in the T'ang Dynasty:
during the time filial piety
and the mandate of heaven were real.
The coup d'etat that took place
was very detached to me.
It just made me vomit out of stress.
"It was all just acting," I convinced myself
while blood seemed to flow out of the television.
Just this morning,
driving along the road there were cats and frogs
as usual - flattened again
by midnight trucks and swerving cars.
They could not stay on their lanes.
The cats and the frogs did not see or feel the headlights fade.
It all sounded like a movie - an intro for a thriller.
But,
in the dusk I saw
a butchered corpse left in my garden
filled with flowers in full bloom.
The scene was so vivid
like fresh paint on canvas.
The red of its blood matched the grass
like it was Christmas.
Warm liquid from my heart rose to my throat,
rising and rising like some water tank
waiting to overflow, or explode
if I try to hold back and look normal.
But the flesh, what could I do?
How magnificent the view yet how present it is!
Not only do I see, but the dead: I smell it.
Try as I must, I have nothing left to vomit.
How could this happen to us?
Author notes
Just for esroddo's contest!
EDIT: I have edited this work one more time just so others might get it if they give it another shot.
EDIT 2: OK, it seems a lot of people could not understand what this work meant. So, if you're ready for spoon-feeding, read on!
The main concept behind this work is the realization of how terrible violence is when it is present, as opposed to realistic representation of such violence in the media, or simply watching the aftermath of such violence. But to witness the process, and get all senses involved besides sight and hearing, it is more real that what could have been convincing representations.
From the beginning, there is the mood of detachment. There is pain and death present, yet it is something insignificant. But later on, when it is right there in front of you, and you can smell it, it is real. More real than anything in the media could represent, it is more real than what you might have even read in this work.
Sometimes we feel strong and powerful when we can do something, but when faced with shocking experiences, that is when we become aware of mortality, that anything living can exist for a while, and then die just like that.
I just don't like people saying that it doesn't mean a thing.
That's all.
A contest entry
- PICTURE CONTEST by esroddo.
525 points, ended June 6, 2007, 13 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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I am looking at the comments that were left by those before me and what I am noticing is that even the people who liked this piece didn't seem to understand it. (That always puzzles me: "Hey, I absolutely LOVED your poem. What was it about?") I won't say that I feel differently from them, however. I can't like this because it appears, to me, that you have strung a bunch of words together that may make sense independent of each other, but don't coalesce into any sort of meaning. (For the same reason I can't hate it - there is no substance around which to form dislike, and the absence thereof is insufficent.)
That is, of course, with one notable exception, as follows: "This very wall I have built / has made me / bleed and suffer pain. / It stands there independent,
/ steadfast and strong, / proud of its existence." It seems clear that there is a connection being drawn between the wall and yourself... and yourself and your mother / father. I liked this observation very much, even despite the fact that it was highlighted by the nonsense lines in which it was framed.
I know, I know "nonsense" is diminutive, and I am not supposed to be diminutive. But one thing that makes me very suspicious of works such as these is the absence of author's notes. The only notation you have made here suggests that this piece was written with another contest exclusively in mind. Perhaps that is the problem. Maybe I have to know the other contest to appreciate this piece. If that is so then I can only say that you have made a poor choice of entries for the Raven General. The genius of a piece should never be soley dependent on the knowledge of the audience.
Thank you for your entry.
~Das
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Ok. I don't usually say this, but I think it would be appropriate to mention it right now. I am not saying that you could not understand the work itself, but I did think about the structure of this work quite well, so you can be assured that there is meaning behind it. I do not know how many times people read this work before they are sure of the meaning or the absence of meaning.
Of course I am also a bit offended by the very mention of the word "nonsense," because it does make sense. I just hope that people would spend a lot more effort in reading this. Perhaps knowing the tone of the persona in each of the strophes is key to this one.
Honestly, I might have sounded pretentious. But I did not intend it that way. This work is something I really worked on, and not just some random piece that a lot of people on this site write.
As for the author's notes, I get the impression that it is spoon-feeding to explain too much. Nonetheless, I might make it a habit if people continue to "not understand" it or even suggest the loss of meaning.
However, thank you for your comment. -
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Ok, I have read your author's notes and, with them in mind, unlocking this piece wasn't terribly difficult. The problem with that is, we feel that it should logically follow, then, that unlocking it without the notes should have been doable as well. Of course this isn't the case at all, a lock, without a key, remains locked - unless you apply brute force.
In a sense, this is what I attempted to do. To answer your unasked question, I read about 1-5 poems a day for this contest, and spend anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour on each piece before I write my comment. "How Could This Happen to Us?" was right in the middle, clocking in at 45 minutes. After which time I attempted to interpert the only part of the piece that connected to anything, as far as I could tell. It turns out that despite my interpertation being both logical and reasonable, it was also completely wrong. (I also notice that, despite the comment stream here being somewhat limited, I am the only person who has attempted to do so thus far - that is probably a heads up.)
Your author's notes helped. But the idea that explaining the ambiguity is "spoon-feeding" is faulty. Some authors believe that a piece should be able to be interperted to mean just about anything under the sun, and, that's fine, as long as they can still justify their original meaning. I come from a different school of thought. I believe that the only purpose of writing is to communicate. Thusly, if you fail to communicate then purpose is nullified, and without purpose you have... nothing.
I am disheartened to discover that my interpertation was incorrect. I felt very positive about that message in this piece and was hoping authors notes would tie the rest together. Since they didn't, I've gone back over the content with the notes in mind. There is a definite intellect at work here, understood to be so merely in the conception of your base idea. But in implementation you have overthought your concept and, thusly, overshot your goal.
I apologize for the "nonsense" comment, if only because it offended when, of course, it could not have done otherwise.
~Das
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Dark , Strange, Death, Reality
Well you got me also. You write was different but in this picture there are so many possibilities. For I to see death, Death of a egg or death of a soul. You decide, I decide we all decide. You write keep me reading and wanting more. So you did the trick to keep my attention. I love the concept and the dark feeling of this write. Thank you for entering and good luck (Lisa)
"In the dusk I saw
a butchered corpse left in my garden
filled with flowers in full bloom."
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signum-io, I think you took this one way too serous...
Although that may very well be your style, lol. I looked at this pic and saw mostly fun, but trust me, they're are others that didn't, including you. For, after all, it was a song about death.
I haven't read anything else by you at this point, but I think I will "check you out", if you don't mind. Your poetry sounds very interesting to me.
Brazos
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Oh, I don't mind. Please do.
Thank you!
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yeah I agree with most of the others, it's confussing but I liked it for some strang odd reason O.o haha. so I guess your writing captured all of us..great job!! haha. pen on!!
Casey
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Wow, I should hate this, but for some odd reason I don't. I do not get it, in the least, but I really, like it. I don't know what it is, maybe I just like the complexity of it, but it draws me in. Well done my friend.
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confused? a little bit?
I'm not sure what to think of this poem. In parts, the imagery was very strong, but the separate stanzas don't seem connected in any way. Its unclear to me what you were trying to say. I like your style of writing, I just am not intuitive enough to understand it.
Basically, what I got was, you and someone else are becoming separated,
by a 'wall'
but the detail that you described, did not describe the separation clearly, [to me]. -
i'm so utterly confused....it's pretty, ut it lost me in the second stanza....
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Wow! I actually really enjoyed it, it was dark yet considering it was for a contest there seems to be so much purpose in it if that makes any sense
I'm still thinking about it so it did the job!
Good luck in the contest my friend!
love and peace
halleluja
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Thanks for being supportive!
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Very well written, I couldnt get so deep with a picture like that though, I just HAD to do comedy...nice job...Scott
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