The Burden of Overactive Minds

My head...your head?

It doesn’t take much;

 

a taxi driver, stopping,

waving me across the road;

if only to step

before the oncoming grille

of a vehicle in the other

lane, it does not matter,

for it is the gesture that counts.

 

Sometimes I feel so light…

 

…as if I could float beyond

the claws of my existence,

and disperse through the sky

(which is more than mere science,

however persistently they try

to persuade me otherwise)

and it is here I become worried.

 

It would be just my luck to get shot;

 

another name filtered into living rooms

via the evening news;

a bystander caught up

in yet another gang feud;

crossfire tearing my tranquility into shreds

of flesh and bone, and flecks

of my imagination seeping into the pavement.

 

It doesn’t take much,

 

for me to get carried away -

betrayed by a Spring breeze,

giggling insanely

as I wave to bewildered Proles,

left behind in a world that burdens weightily,

tugging forcefully at their feet

like chewing gum on worn soles.

 

Gravity, they call it.

 

I kiss mummified flowers amid apologies

over neglect, regrets pricking me like thorns,

and each terrible day, more infants born

oblivious, hopefully drenched

in fresh love every morning;

trembling, trusting leaves shaking off the drops,

knowing not of the value or remorse.

 

No, it doesn’t take much.

Author's Note

Please take a look at the book and let me know what you think:
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/where-nothing-is-sacred-volume-i/1637740]

Thanks.

Reviews

[Dave Palmer]

This is an "every day" poem with more than an every day meaning behind it. It travels through some of the most innocent portions of life that we all take for granted daily. I like the repeating of the line "It doesn't take much" because it's so true. It doesn't take much because it is all set in motion and happens every day without much effort at all, yet the effects can be both innocent and/or disasterous. Nice imagery here with vivid descriptions of the various random events that all come together to complete the thoughts of the grand scheme.

I like how you touch on the contrasts of death and innocence early and end with new life (the ultimate in innocence) giving the reader hope amid the destructive/hopeless lines like "even if only to step before the oncoming grille of a vehicle in the other lane" or "crossfire tearing my tranquility into shreds of flesh and bone, and flecks of my imagination seeping into the pavement." (the second is my favorite line.)

Overall a good piece... keep writing!

[zig]

"I kiss mummified flowers amid apologies

over neglect, regrets pricking me like thorns,

and each terrible day, more infants born

oblivious, hopefully drenched

in fresh love every morning;

trembling, trusting leaves shaking off the drops,

knowing not of the value or remorse.



No, it doesn't take much."


fuckn a!

[Emily B]

This is more amazing the second time around. I see myself in the words.

[W.k.kortas]

I think the learned Mr. Pearce is spot-on; this is a nicely paced and well thought out look at transcendence, especially in relation to our desire to rise above the grittiness and sameness of everyday life. This is a smart and well-executed piece; it's very impressive work.

[Mark Pearce]

A wonderful peak into transcendance.

We can't know it. We can only approximate it, and this piece does that very well.

You are a poet. Too many poem writers are not.

[Emily B]

Gravity, it's all about gravity, I didn't know that before.

Seriously, this is amazing. And going right into my favorites.

Your chewing gum simile is incredible.

Sorry I haven't posted anything recently; I've been just -obscenely- busy with -- well, life.

My question, though, is if there's any sort of meaning behind your capitalization; it's a very distinct quality in this piece.

[Anthony Morningstar]

I liked the way that this felt like I was being pushed and pulled. Felt like an amusment park ride. "Welcome, ladies, and gentlemen step right up, step right up. Take a ride now remember not to jump off before the ride the is done. That is if you would like to take a ride like this."

[Goodbyeguilt]

I understand the sentiment here.
Dude, I seriously believe that you think about thinks far too much lol
You do however address important themes.
For example, in the first part you mentioned the simple gesture of a taxi driver stopping for you, small things like that make everyone pleased I guess.

Then you become far too diverse so that your pleasant poem becomes deeply profound and almost macabre lol

I won't even go there :p

Well done. A truly original piece.

GBG - Leah

[Luna Tique Fringe]

I have to laugh a little, the title alone was enough
to send my brain into a flurry. *smile*

Truly, as in your opening line, "It doesn't take much;"

Very effective.

My own OAM got a little hung up on the lady driver, so much
stigmatism and chauvenism is attached to those two little words.
I waffle between being curious at the choice and being offended,
even though nothing perjoritive has been decernably intimated.
Evidently the driver may also have an OAM...waving you into oncoming
traffic. Surely her mind was elsewhere.

Vivid imagery. I can envision the scene clearly, the car
braking suddenly, the screech of the brakes, a bewildered
"deer caught in headlights" expression on our protagonists
face...who is very forgiving of the wave of possible tragedy.
Surely his mind has already moved on to other things.

The consonance in the last three lines of this stanza, is well done.
It gives it a good accent when read aloud.

In the next stanza, the magic of science, the science of magic...
let me not get hung up here...
We go to soaring:
"Sometimes I feel so light�

�as if I could float beyond
the claws of my existence,
and disperse through the sky"

Then back again in the next stanza...just another statistic.
Cold, hard reality.

NIce literary reference in the next stanza.
The last stanza...wow..that's all I can say, wow.

I hope this makes some sense...been up a good 26 hrs now...
lol..one of those times...

I thoroughly enjoyed this. I'll be reading it again when I'm a little more fresh.

[Invisible Ink]

I got to this review later then I thought, sorry. We found a house and commenced packing this weekend, not much time for else. But know I have the evening free.

Good title. I am reminded of a line in "The Boy Who Fell Forty Feet" where he described his mother's mind, bent in the middle like a breakfast tray, from overuse (something like that). We probably didn't used to think of overactive minds as a burden, but now I think of all of the children diagnosed with ADD and the like, and think of this kind of burden. So, now I am interested in finding out what these burdens are, in the poem.

"it doesn't take much;" - I am thinking here, that it doesn't take much to kick that mind into overdrive. And next, an example of how it gets started...

a lady driver, stopping,
waving me across the road,
even if only to step
before the oncoming grille
of a vehicle in the other
lane, it does not matter
for it is the gesture that counts.

I can see this image, see it happening, but it doesn't end with a splat because you continue. not with death, but with the meaning of the communication itself. Yet, this is metaphorical, no? We are always walking into dangerous situations, sometimes we know it, sometimes not... but it doesn't stop us. We want to reach the other side, even if there is death in the middle... it might not be a physical death, but a death within us, something we lose along the way. Sometimes it is the interference of others and sometimes it is only our own mistakes. I don't think this stanza ends positively, exactly, just matter-of-fact. If it is your own thoughts that "wave" you forward, then you must go, no matter the consequence, and really there is no option.

Is it her gesture that counts, or your gesture of stepping? or both?
"even if only to step" - this line kind of holds me up, the wording, I guess... you might reword it?

Sometimes I feel so light�

�as if I could float beyond
the claws of my existence, - great image
and disperse through the sky - like the atoms that we are
(which is more than mere science, - maybe the soul? or just thoughts?
however persistently they try
to persuade me otherwise)
and it is here I become worried.

You (or your thoughts,etc.) rise into the sky, but something tries to bring you back down (science). You become worried? - is that because of the opposition between the two? The contradiciton between freedom (of thoughts or the soul) and gravity or physicality. I lile the image of "disperse through the sky" - it make me see a person turning into atoms and floating up.
I an also see an overactive mind feeling this way, not bound by the laws of the world... yet, is it the overactive mind that actually brings us back down, thinking too much about how such things can't happen, because they did not fit these laws?

The first stanza ended on a sort-of high note, this one does not. This stanza is perfectly written.

It would be just my luck to get shot; - at first, I am still thinking of the last stanza, and I see you shot out of the air, like a bird in flight, or an army plane, going down. Another victim of gravity. However, then I continue to the next stanza....and my image changes

another name filtered into living rooms
via the evening news;
a bystander caught up
in yet another gang feud;
crossfire tearing my tranquility into shreds
of flesh and bone, and flecks
of my imagination seeping into the pavement.

This is such a beautiful "swan song" for a poet, or any artist. First, though, we hear so many names, without faces, on the news and those names have no meaning anymore... you say that perfectly with "a bystander caught up in yet another gang feud;" ... both the victims and the perpetrators have no meaning. You overactive mind turning over these ways that you could die, or that other death, of the imagination. It seems to me that you are talking about ways that our imaginations are numbed by the crap of the world.... hearing so much, seeing so much... we are no longer able to use that power. Again, this stanza is very well written.

for me to get carried away - - this seems much different then the first "carried away"
betrayed by a Spring breeze, - not sure about this line
giggling insanely
as I wave to bewildered Proles,
left behind in a world that burdens weightily,
tugging forcefully at their feet - going back to gravity
like chewing gum on worn soles.

Creating a contrast again: I can see the image of you, on a warm, wonderful day, walking along with friends... and then it changes. Ok, so I go back to opposites and to the theme of numbing... you in one worlds and they in another... because we got no reaction from them, the working classes that are also burdened. Are they burdened, like you, but in a different way? And is the betrayal that of you own mind, being numbed or not active? How happiness can make us blind?
These are all the thoughts and images, and questions that this staza invokes in me.

I kiss mummified flowers amid apologies - apologies mummified also because
over neglect, regrets pricking me like thorns, - of the neglect
and each terrible day, more infants born
oblivious, hopefully drenched - great, love these last lines
in fresh love every morning;
trembling, trusting leaves shaking off the drops,
knowing not of the value or remorse.

Not sure about the word "kiss". The flowers and thorns are good, but I wonder if you could substitute something that had more symbology with infants, childhood, innocence? Althoug, I could see that flowers bloom, live a short life and die. How it is beautiful at the first, but then ugly and forgotten. The last stanza takes me back to the first... the "gesture" or intention being the most important... however, in this stanza, the gesture does not measure up. Flowers are a gesture, a kiss... yet they are dead, "mummified." And children are born "oblivious," a clean slate. Now, I think, you can't change the "flowers" reference and it does fit, perfectly with the rest. The rest of the stanza is beautiful... but it doesn't leave me hopeful, for I know these children will grow and know all these things.
"the value of remorse" - first I read it this way, which gives a different meaning than "value or remose." Infants do not know the value of .... life? the mind?.... or the "remose" of not using the mind?

Trying to tie the whole poem together... I'm not sure if that is the best title? I do see the burden of the overactive mind in all of the stanzas, in different ways... I see positive and negative, I see opposites. I see a question at the end..... do we try to protect against these things? or is it better to educate in the evils of the world, because it will happen anyway? This seems to contrast the realist and the dreamer? Which should we be? Which should we encourage children to be?

In conclusion, I can only say, this poem definitely made me think... like an "overactive mind." I didn't have many suggestions for changing it, though I hope seeing it though my mind, that of a reader, will help. Thank you for submitting it in "Get Real," and I hope my comments are of use.