13. 09. 09

ONE

 

en masse, people make no sense

and too much noise

the individual is devoured

in a gulp of instinct

mutated through lack of use

 

recording the moment

because living in it

is out of fashion

for now

for ever [?]

 

the purpose we no longer have

ceases to bother a species

building itself out of existence

 

and the words don’t matter

so long as the beat invokes

                                violence

 

the hunted, the hunter

                                we gather evolutionary standstill

                                and stick it on a T-shirt

 

why can I taste bullshit

                in my mouth?

 

what was once beautiful

has become ugly

by being too pretty

                                and its death vibrates beneath our feet

 

it isn’t hard to write an anthem

but reality is less than catchy

and doesn’t sell magazines

 

                           …except The Big Issue

 

 

TWO

 

we all cringe inwards

too afraid to talk to one another

but what’s the worst that could happen

outright rejection �" did it hurt from the womb?

only the hippie kids are wide open

because their parents instilled confidence

just by listening, just by acceptance

or maybe it’s the clothes they were forced to wear

first day of primary school

shrugging off hand-knitted multi-colours

from there the only way is up up up

like an escapee helium balloon

 

oh the crowd

I want to throw myself at their feet

and mercy

screaming

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME

just to see what the reply might be

except I know what would happen

they’d judge me for everything I am not

and sneer at everything I am

because ugliness has been branded

and surrounded by boundaries

they’d say I’ve taken it a high wall too far

but all those people who claimed to feel the same way

where are they?

here with their friends

encircled by yet another electric fence:

that of social hierarchy

 

how quickly the happy couple forgets

twinned into a single entity

how sure they were to die lonely

how they had to glug their way to smiles

they smugly embrace

oblivious, lace fingers

and sway together

through this

the longest night

 

Author's Note

Written whilst standing in the crowd for the Kerrang stage area at Birmingham Arts Fest. Concerts and large crowds depress me [I was there because my friend's younger brother wanted to go].
NB: this is maybe another thing I meant by honesty - I wrote it whilst happy-go-lucky pseudo-punk songs were deafening me and it was hard to struggle against the current and say what I actually wanted to, rather than lapsing into choruses and stuff, but I pretty much made it.
Determined honesty...

Reviews

[Dezaraye]

I seriously just want to copy this poem into my review and write, "AMEN" at the end of EVERY stanza.

I hate crowds ... people are this way. There are a handful (many writers here fall into this latter category) of people in the world who are genuine, caring, and supportive individuals. People ARE too loud. Why need them and yet we don't. I wish that people were their true selves. I think that it would make the world a much better, safer place. However, we listen to society and we bend and shape ourselves to fit in. Some, such as I, are always unable to conform and the world for them is gray.

[Jessica Dallaire]

Wow, this is really good. I'm not really sure what else to say about it. It made me think and you're completely right. I just tend to ignore the people around me when I am in a big crowd. I am glad that you could find this inspiration from them, it is a wonderful write.

[Angelheaded Hipster]

You know...Ive missed your words, your voice. I figured it was something like that..and the crowds, the pseudo intellectuals, with Che tee shirts...I wonder if he spins in his grave?
I cant deal well with crowds either, especially of a festival magnitude.

[dev]

really..nice..work...luv it...

[cest la vie]

Exceptional writing..
Absolutely exceptional everything about this piece.

[Markymark]

Exceptional. I have only read a few pieces of yours....but you waste no words, and while at times this piece seems fragmented, I know it was by design due to the surroundings, and it absolutely captures the mood you wanted it to. As said before...exceptional...really.

Mark

[Alicante lullaby]

bitter.I thought i had been breathing in the acrid huge cloud of smoke from veldt fire....somehow it reminds me of TS Eliot's''HOLLOW MEN''but pray ,dont be so truth ful next time,it makes poeple hate them selves more.......

[Emily B]

I came back to this again. It echoes what I feel today, about different things. I want to brand a disclaimer on my forehead. This is what you should expect from me. Don't ask for friendship unless you can accept me for what I am. . . no chance of losing myself in a twinship. No chance at all. :)

[Jessica J]

This is the stuff that makes me want to write. I know that we should not compare ourselves to others when it comes to art and creativity, but I cannot help it. Your writing style seems so witty and expressive and completely easy. I enjoy every thing of yours I read. I know this helps you very little in the critical review side of things, but I can't honestly say one thing critical about this piece. It would be like a person that paints by numbers judging Van Gogh. My favorite is the very end...perfection. Thank you for sharing your work...I promise you that you inspire more than just me.

[Tony]

I know exactly what you mean by the assemblies. What the hell is left to celebrate?
This poem exposes the ignorance of the masses, and their impending doom. It is laced with the right kind and amount of dry and accusing humor. I like the way you gave a nod to romance at the end. Like a dark prayer of hopelessness.....

Also, as is common in your work, I am clearly transported through your perspective, by your ability to show the gravity of seemingly insignificant social behaviors and compromises that slowly eradicate liberty:

"what was once beautiful, has become ugly, by being to pretty.... and it's death vibrates beneath our feet"

"or maybe its the clothes they were forced to wear, first day of primary school."

Finally, I like the way you have command of the King's English, yet you bypass the fundamentals. The lack of punctuation and capitalization here assumes an air of quiet arrogance, a trait of dark intellectuals. Your stuff is dope, sir. Keep it coming.

[zig]

"but reality is less than catchy
and doesn't sell magazines

�except The Big Issue
"

yeah, awesome. the first part of this is tight, sculped, sharp. perfect in tone and shape. i like the tone change in the second half, it slows down a bit, becomes more personal, a little bit more loose and raw. very nicely done

but are you sure this poem is finished? sure there isnt a third half? the two halves kind of echo each other, which is nice, but there is no movement. im not saying that you should manufacture some kind conclusion or point, but the combination of these two parts should create some kind of critical mass. the "journy" of the first half goes into reverse, backs up and runs again, a little slower in te second half. after reading i dont feel like i arrived anywhere. another option is to write these as two seperate poems. your call.

sorry, ive been teaching workshops all this last month, im still stuck in teacher mode. disregard as needed

zig