“In order for the wheel to turn, for life to be lived,
impurities are needed, and the impurities of impurities in the soil,
too, as is known, if it is to be fertile. Dissension, diversity, the
grain of salt and mustard are needed: Fascism does not want them,
forbids them, and that's why you're not a Fascist; it wants everybody to
be the same, and you are not. But immaculate virtue does not exist
either, or if it exists it is detestable."
- Primo Levi-
Life's summary is written with graphics -
Need a shower to distract me
from blind images
But water is a tap of dropping noise -
Soap fakes purity -
skin the overrated God
Oh memories, I dare you
My brain - a painful relic like Auschwitz-Birkenau
Old-fashioned self-abuser
Consumed by millions of aching thoughts
Primo Levi and me know what a satrap is
Everybody wants instantaneous beauty
Tyranny is full of foreign yelling
Demanding respect is for
opulence seekers
Blame DNA for ugliness
Dying in such restricted ignorance -
From ashes to ashes
Snail slime
Oh memories, you dare me
My brain - a painful relic like Auschwitz-Birkenau
This is a LYRICAL POEM/LYRICS.
That's why there's parts where I 'repeat myself'. They are called 'chorus'. Please do not judge the quality of my piece without asking what you don't understand, just its content. Or not, judge as you wish - I love a free nation. ;)
My Review
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This is a sobering poem--- no one enjoys being reminded of what went on in the Naizi deathcamps but the world needs continous reminders of this evil and you have done a faboulas job in reminding us. Evil does not sleep but lurks unnoticed in the shadows waiting only for the right moment to spring forth.
Hmmm , I like this! You write with heart, and many will not understand that. But what you feel in soul, heart, thoughts, brings forth for though it may not comes across in whole, it comes across to those that see with eyes that feel your soul.
There are many images inside your words. One can take them many ways. i see this as all of us striving for perfection. To be the perfect image of what we think the world wants us to be.. We all wish to be something, in today's society it is what you look like, act like, and be as important as possible, you think others will think you are sheer perfection.. Sad i say, it is how we were trained from day one, conditioned to be from the beginning.And all along it all comes down to be yourself and the rest will follow.
Wow.. what a powerful piece this is.. the weeding out of everything not considered beautiful by some facist jerk.. I never understood how religion or lack there of can be used to allow idiots to attempt their genocidal tyrade. Anyway, excellent write, well used language and metaphors.
This is just my style. Many of the lines, a poem in themself. A maze of cryptic symbols just waiting to be deciphered by those, who dare for truth. I will be reading this also, over and over, until, I squeeze out, my real understanding of this as a whole.
I'm at a loss for the right word to describe how much I think of this... I will have to simply say, that it reached out, and put its hand on my shoulder, and looked into my eyes... and my eyes smiled.
I have to admit I got a bit lost here too, but oh how powerful your words are, I couldn't help but keep reading and piecing together my understanding. Wonderful piece!
That was absolutely beautiful.
I see these kind of poems and they bring something more in poetry than others who simply misguide to nowhere.
I love your word usage especially when you wrote:
"Instantaneous everything
Another great one :)
Your words baffle my mind yet I'm calm and wanting to read more and understand the writer.
and I'm hoping 'baffle' is a properly invented word hehe
And she chooses, a survivor, a witness to introduce
a poem, the while the heart beat of Brazil beats
In her breast, her mind making love to words;
Neruda like,
She twists the hair of the poem with her fingers.
I fall gently down the stanzas, a dry leaf in autumn
And I feel self doubt, and sad association with the drama
Of concentration, and the worlds take on what beauty is;
Stanza, stanza, stanza, down into the belly of the whale.
I am a caught Jonah, the poem, the fish that swallows me.
Down, down until the last drop of poetic broth is consumed;
I feel sate, as all good endings make a reader feel-
Sate but not without thought, it seems to be
That the metaphor in the last grouped lines
Are warnings of hazards found in living modern life,
And that the beauty of the world is at risk, as moderns
Put the earth, including, us in a subliminal Auschwitz;
That captains of industry, are the satraps
With one hand on on the valve that turns on the gas.
Your excellent poetry inspires...and earns the 100 rating
More about me:
Music I like: Manic Street Preachers. Depeche Mode. Chris Cornell. Soundgarden. Smashing Pumpkins. Suede. Pulp. Oasis. The Clash. Tears for Fears. Stereophonics. John Lennon. Da.. more..