Then. Only then.

One can seem taller than any mountain, stretch further than any road...

You can gather faces

pile them up high

line them up end to end

a stretch of road, a mountain

of physical perfection

and some God-awful

repulsive misadventures.

You can get lost in talk,

unite, divide, taste hunger,

drive, smile to smile delirium.

But hell. One day

you fall on something else

some other thing part made of skin

and part a tortured mind.

Then. Only then.

You trade everything in

every remembering, connection

bygones, present, the future,

all pushed aside in the mad rush

to feel perfection.

Then you're screwed.

Nothing left but this craving

abandonment of self to One

who need only trace a finger

to create a liquid masterpiece.

You stand within, without,

observing, pleading, saying never,

never stop meandering over

my flesh, my mind.

Reviews

[r. f. jordan]

Dear Elise,

though i don't believe we've officially interacted until now, i hope all is well with you. you had me in love with your poetry as i finished reading this piece's first stanza. there is a highly original dichotomy to it: ideals in that sense that a gathering of faces could come across as perfection even though all of us are flawed, combined with that brilliant, original, and haunting image of "repulsive misadventures." i adore your short lines. i further appreciate your short sentences- stretching back to this piece's title. this brilliant use of juxtaposition continues through ..."smile to smile delirium.", ..."skin" and ... "mind", "bygones, present, the future," this piece's second to last stanza might be my favorite. reference to ..."One", ..."trace a finger", and my favorite genius stab at imagery ..."liquid masterpiece." this master work brought me to that ceiling within our Sistine Chapel. your closing is extremely strong, with ongoing contradiction and a plea toward an evasive eternal. outstanding work. Thank you for putting forth effort toward sharing your gift with this site.

[Elise Anton]

Oh my! I cannot form words. There's something beyond 'humbled' but my internal lexicon has skipped on me. Probably having that nap I sorely need! I will say thank you at the very least, and may I come back and respond properly once I've capture that pesky word?

[Elise Anton]

And very pleased you have made yourself known to me... I really need that nap. Manners!

[barleygirl]

I'm not following your train of thought 100%, but I'm impressed with several shining spots, especially 3rd stanza. This is something so familiar to me but I haven't seen it put quite so succinctly & understandably! Wow! In fact, I'm having a tussle with someone part skin & part tortured mind just now. It sounds like, in your poem, after this meeting/falling into the lure of the tortured mind, the narrator falls away from the nicely-ordered previous life. In my case, I prefer to care for the tortured minds from afar, so as not to disrupt my laminar flow of inner peace *smile* Your poem gives much to ponder.

[Elise Anton]

Distance is good (trust me) under the above circumstances. (I had some distance but not nearly enough!) Stll feeling the after-effects - you know - you end up with a basis for comparison... and everyone falls short?

Thanks for reading and maintain 'distance' I say :)

[barleygirl]

Totally understand (((HUGS)))

[Richard Patrick]

we care about each other, for we are humans. WE feel the pain of another and try to wipe away the tears. Try and kiss the pain away. Inside we may be afraid. But we get dressed and put ourselves together, to show no one what we know.

The love of us humans is what we must do, For we love each other, sister or brother. Why because we care? We are humans. Each of us, is human, we all bleed red blood. We all eat and we drink fluids we breathe. Why we are humans?

[Elise Anton]

Thank you for those inspiring words Richard. It certainly matters that we remember foremost that we are all the smae human being.

[Richard Patrick]

you are so, welcome.

[Hyacinth]

Do I need to say it? Do I seriously need to find every adjective in the dictionary that can describe this and every existing synonym for 'good'? Elise, once again, you amaze me. Where have you acquired such talent from? Every piece of your writing touches me at the very core of my heart just like this one. Im gonna run out of what to say soon because I'd have gone through every compliment existing!

[Elise Anton]

Thank you? I put the question mark at the end because I don't want to lose our interraction. Don't worry about adjectives. The fact you reply is all I need. I like this after-talking, probably more than the words I write. Not through altruistic reasons, rather because I am privileged to meet people I wouldn't otherwise have met, such as yourself.

I haven't published. Apart from certain circumstances making it impossible, there is this: When you write 'books' they are sent off into the world and you don't know the people who hold them. You might get reports of numbers sold etc., you might have a 'fan page' and a twitter account and whatever else is supposed to boost sales, but you won't EVER have the time to interract this way, directly and in the moment.

This is the part I treasure :)

[Érenn]

*taking deep breaths* Ok i am fine now. This was a great read, I was immersed in already by the time I was in the second stanza, and the way you have used words ( too many to site) but this one verse( 4th or the 5th one) is a perfect example of what i am trying to convey. the use of bygones, mad rush, feel perfection. And the final verse was a killer. I liked a lot ^^ Thank you for sharing ^^

[Elise Anton]

Thanks Erren, truthfully, I am surprised at how much people identify with this poem. I wrote it as I lived it, as I felt it. I haven't edited a thing, it's exactly as I first wrote it on a scrap of paper. Oh if only life was one long continuity of this! Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts, much appreciated!

[Érenn]

Your welcome ^^

[Davidgeo]

You filthy little mole.... call me a poofter if I didn't kinda like this. It's layered, for me anyway, I don't know what the f**k you're really getting at... meanings of poems are not owned by the authors after they publish them. Anyway, it's layered in different meanings of self awareness... or maybe different stages of it. That the ending and the begging of a thing are not ever the point and quite frankly often the worst parts, it's what we make of it in between on the way in between endings and beginnings that means everything. It reminds me of the concept of the speed of light, that its not really a speed at all, it's the natural state of massless particles; It's not something anything that matters (has matter) can obtain because to obtain that absolute perfection (masslessness) you must cease to be the anything; no thing is perfect as nothing is nothing but perfect. Our imperfections are what matter, what defines our relationship to the world of matter is our collection or klugey little collection of s**t we picked up and lost during our time under the sun. Ugh,, I feel pretentious and, kind of shameful right now. I am going to sexually harass the lady that lives with me for a while and get a little of my pride back. Good work by the way. I enjoyed it immensely.

[Elise Anton]

Thank you?

[Davidgeo]

See what I mean? I got too meta here. Confused the comment box with something else again. That's not even a review. I suck.

[Elise Anton]

No the question mark was only because you left me with a very vivid image of what I had inspired you to do, which might have come back to bite me if certain lady didn't want to be harassed in that manner. The thank you itself was sincere. I just didn't want to be responsible for a night gone awry ;)

[Davidgeo]

Ha... that women does more harassing than I ever could in two lifetimes. I wouldn't worry to much about that borderline despicable creature. She is quite lovely though, and the venom.... I love her venom very much.

[Elise Anton]

Pheeew. Ignore the question mark.

[Nirvana]

Personally, I love how the word "love" is never mentioned in this piece. It definitely alludes to it (trading in all of yourself to another) but it also reminds me of being trapped under this spell-- where your soul still aches to BE a self, but you can't let go of this "perfect drug" that gives you a rush like no other. Isn't it funny how something you write can be interpreted so many ways? Great read!

[Elise Anton]

Thanks for stopping by and reading. I see the word 'love' everywhere. Personally, the internal debate is still going on as to whether I can attach it to any one feeling I have known. I find it... limiting? I know I say "I love you" to my sons a lot, and I do mean it, but there's so many other emotions interconnected, it feels inadequate at times. Do we assume others understand the depth and volumes contained within it every time we say it? You raise an interesting thought, about how something one writes can be interpreted in so many ways.

Your interpretation is emotional, taken in in a similar emotion to what birthed it. Yet the gentleman above (r. f. jordan) was transported to the Sistine Chapel. Chris below, "chuckled". This is what I LOVE if I were to descibe how I feel right now, talking to you.

My same few words resonating differently in people. Each other adding their flavour, their impression, their level of comfort and/or enjoyment.

Thank you for making me pause for a moment and appreciate this!

[Chris]

a hell of a description for Love if I've ever heard one... chuckling here

[Sandra Nair]

I love this, truly. And I must tell you, 'Don't ever do this and make me jealous'. Hey, just kidding. It was excellent.

[Elise Anton]

Thank you Sandra! I appreciate your reading this and liking it :)

[Sandra Nair]

It's my pleasure. And I agree with you, Serah is a brilliant writer.

[Elise Anton]

Told you :)

[. serah .]

-- i'm an atheist these days... but i'm listening to the morning azaan (call for prayer from a mosque) right now... -- it's 5:43 am local time... and this soul-quenching piece of poetry is echoing in my ears... -- i think anything in our lives that takes us from a place of confusion to a place of clarity is our religion... -- there's a lot of soul-searching in your words and a lot of soul-finding too... and... mr. jordan is the only person on this site who can do justice to excellence in poetic expression in a review... and i agree with every observation of his... -- this is amazing work...

[Elise Anton]

I didn't get that nap because they're building next door but I agree with you .serah. Mr Jordan left me in awe, unable to find words with which to tell him that his critique was a work of art in itself. I actually called my sons to show them how poetry is read, how it is absorbed and how it takes people on voyages... They said "aha, finger as the extended finger on the ceiling, liquid (as in paint) Masterpiece as the artwork itself..." I think he is the only one who helped them understand how poetry 'works' as they're not readers of poetry.

They've read some of your pieces too btw :)

[. serah .]

-- wow... that poetry session with your sons must've been fun... and thank you for sharing my words with them too... that's very sweet of you... :)

[Elise Anton]

Two teenagers, never having read read a word I write (as far as poetry)... yeah, it was fun! Mind you Dylan the oldest decided to learn how to play guitar a month ago so the whole things was done within a practice session of Wonderwall strumming!

[. serah .]

-- wow... background music and poetry... very magical.. :)

[Elise Anton]

Ummm... you had to be here. Not exactly background music, more like a five-year-old missing most notes on a violin lol but hey, who am I to criticise creativity. It was awesome!

[. serah .]

-- lol... Dylan decided to learn only a month ago... you need to give him some more time, Ms. Elise... but i like your spirit... it's awesome that you think it's awesome... encouragement is medication... it makes miracles come true... :)