The Stranger

 

At age three, my voice had been stifled

By a future manifested ego I never even met, yet

He plunged down my throat, molesting me within,

Feeding me goose eggs hard to swallow

 

But I managed as time grew on, and

Soon those hard-boils softened into lozenges,

His weaves draping my front window,

His lyrics peddling in my sleep, clouding my dire hours

His entrails entangled beneath my footsteps

And his wizardry articulating my words

 

At age three,

Time never seemed to saunter,

I strained on forward as if in a dream

Through a story told in unusual memoirs

Unwritten by an anonymous author,

 

I fiddled with the blank page

Sometimes managed masterpieces

Or blurted out incoherencies

 

My movements, however, never ordained,

They followed singularly along a circus wire…

 

A eulogy perhaps,

Will smoke him out…

 

No, never mind the perfect novel,

The flawless poem,

It’ll take years of extrication and prayer

To carve him out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Well, you hadn't posted any chapters of the book you mentioned yet, so I checked this intriguing poem out.

Reads like a versified inverted Doppelganger tale, this outsized stranger we're never quite certain is your evolving self or something your immune system is struggling to get rid of. In fact, our own immune systems DO attack us from time to time when they mistake a natural process for an unwanted invader.

Curious piece. I'm left with an impression that's a living parallel to Michelangelo's famous comment re the sculpted figure already existing in the block of marble, waiting for him to liberate it.

We are ultimately strangers to ourselves and so all possible prismatic meanings obtain.

[Ethan Leon]

I wasn't impressed by the first chapter that you posted, but after deciding to take a look at another of your works (this poem), I was not dissapointed, and thus would like to inform you that you are an exceptional poet.

It wanes toward the middle by way of the theme being watered down, I believe that if you added another stanza, just to be sure that the easy toward closing the theme and then ending the poem is complete. But then again, I have found that although many people desire this 'transition', the best poems often lack it.

My favorite line is "A eulogy perhaps,Will smoke him out�", not bad, not bad. But I believe this poem only opens a door to a masterpiece (to disagree with Blackbirdsong), and thus is not a masterpiece itself. Instead of just my normal criticism I will this once ask a question, it is that refering to the "goose eggs," I wonder if the action of shoving them down the characters throat, then having them become soft over time, is just a way of saying that one is hollowed out by pain, or etc. .
I would ask that you do read a few of my poems, if you are a fan of darker themed works.
Oh well, I suppose I'll leave off with Bravo.

[Gandré]

I came to your site and found this poem so wonderful. It is about writing from the middle of your soul, this is what original poetry is, yes Rachel is right, master piece for it breaths with the truth and offer a level of writing wher my imganination can dwell and expand your dream-like images from the past to the now and back to past. It is like an intimate monologue of a soul. Wonderful !! I mean it. It was like an unvisible ride mysterious in the depths of a psyche.

[Fantasyfairy]

Sad yet so well written. A childhood lost. Very creative and wonderfully written. XX

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

this is fantastic although so sad,, to see kids abandoned by a parent only to feel the blame, that egg of emotional turmoil hatches into feelings of betrayal and loneliness, Bravo for such a powerful write.

[Blackbirdsong]

Well this definitely goes into the masterpiece category. It's amazing where creativity and that creative comes from...you felt it early on in life and so did I. I had no idea what I would do with it and it's manifested in me in various ways with also art and music, but that little egg - LOVE that metaphor - has grown and is sometimes as easy thing to swallow and sometimes not. I love how you've weaved the story of this poem so brilliantly, but I've come to expect nothing less than brilliant from you. :)

[Jenny Davis]

This is fantastic, Lionel. What to say to such a soulful write? Your words matter and that stranger can't even stop them...HE is already carving his way out as I type me thinks :) Exceptional stuff :)