There's a devil in the corner.
He finds his way
through my dreams,
through a needy servant's
broken hand, willing to do
whatever it takes
to shake the shakes
and swing the swinging motion
of the room, dizzy too
making a melody out of you
my sweet, talented, and
hardly wasteful friend--
you've been convinced
that a syringe is where a star
could be born in,
fleshy and trembling
upside down.
Won't you just stop
soddening your veins already?
Won't you just stop
making model airplanes
to crash and burn over hills
'till your blood is spoiled
by engine fuel?
I know it's not that easy
and you would just rather
nosedive toward the ground
where sound aches and
resonates the soil.
I know you long to return
to Mother.
And on your way down, I got up
at 11:10 am to find you
with an umbilical chord
wrapped round your neck.
I found you blue and purple,
a human chameleon of moods
gagging on air and shapes
with a velcro stare.
Stuck on the ceiling's vertebrae,
you drew thick heavy breaths
imagining rainbows in your eyes
and a woman, holding you to her chest.
I envisioned your thoughts, then.
Your drugged smile told me
release was coming; freedom singing.
And oh, such a feat it would be
to dive from this height.
You could, you would,
you will and you did.
Author notes
This is still so rough feeling to me. I have many quarrels about it myself but I'm interested to see what yours are and what fits and what doesn't suit this.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Apart from one mistakes in L23 (you're instead of your), this is brilliant. the language is rich and the message and scene being painted are quite clear. My only change would be to use the word 'soaking' or 'drenching' your veins rather than 'soddening'. just a personal choice.
I thought the message you were seeking to convey was clearly expressed. I liked the tone of sadness and pity. Very strong poem.
language: 4, rhythm: 4, subject: 5, tone: 4, form: 4.
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Thanks much, adorasmum, I'm glad you enjoyed this one.
And thanks for pointing out that grammatical error, totally slipped past me.
Kristin
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Hi, Synth. On an initial read, I must agree with billbrando-- I find each stanza, by itself, chock-full of brilliant imagery and stunningly original language. But together, I wasn't sure it held together very well. I get the obvious drug and self-destruction references.
I found,
"you've been convinced
that a syringe is where a star
could be born in,
fleshy and trembling
upside down"
particularly powerful, and I found the birth images overall to be interesting. You used them in a unique way-- but introducing them in the early stanza, then separating them with the airplane stuff and returning to them at the end was a little confusing. It took several reads for me to make the connections.
"Nosedive" was a great word to use, following through on the image of the airplanes, as I also read it as another drug reference-- coke addicts are frequently referred to as "nosers." So it pains me to say this, but I think this poem would be better without the whole model airplane interlude. I think that's the sole thing that's standing between this being an okay poem and a great one. But that's just my opinion, of course. It's free, so take it for what it's worth, right?
I also really liked "ceiling's vertebrae"-- fascinating image.
My only other suggestion is the title-- other than the title, and the initial reference to the devil, I don't find this to be a particularly spiritual piece. The main focus seemed to be on the mother/birth images. Unless you meant the "star" to be the star of Bethlehem, and the hanging upside-down to be a reference to Odin or a Christ-like figure, suspended? If so, that's a bit of a stretch, I think. Or, if so-- could you make it clearer? Put in some more Biblical imagery, especially at the end-- otherwise, it was abandoned altogether.
Yep-- really, really good stuff here. I'm looking forward to reading through more of your stuff.
Pie
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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Thanks, cp for your extensive review, much appreciated.
I do agree that it needs some editing. I suppose the reason I consider it to be sort of spiritual is the simple topic of life flowing into death. That and this person it's about was a Pagan like me which I pointed out in 'I know you long to return to Mother' as in Mother Earth. Perhaps it's still a bit hazy in the poem, though.
I've gotten lots of great honest reviews on this but my thinking is quite jumbled at the moment.
Will do some fixing up...if I can figure out how I want to say things. Can be puzzling sometimes.
Anyway, thank you, really. I'm fortunate enough to get such good reads into my poems. Nothing satisfies me more.
Have a good one
Kristin
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A cacophany of images...
which don't fit together, is my initial impression. I love your daring use of language and your obvious willingness to experiment, don't get me wrong, but this is all over the place.
Am I right that this is primarily about a friend's concerned disappointment about someone's life choices and possible drug induced suicide? I get the feeling that the person about which this is written passed away, but it isn't totally clear. If so, I'm sorry you had to go through this.
Let me tell you what I believe you do well in this. Your sticking with concrete images for emotional expression is a good instinct, as I believe I've mentioned to you before.
"that a syringe is where a star
could be born"
I like the mixture of the image of the syringe and the star. Something about how light shines through liquid in a syringe, something about how a needle gleams, there's something enticingly sinister about it.
"umbilical chord
wrapped round your neck.
I found you blue and purple,
a human chameleon of moods"
I like this because of it's grotesque descriptiveness. I've never done drugs involving needles, so I can't speak to how it makes one behave, but I get the feeling it reduces a person to less than a child- like state, choking off any possibility normal communication and functioning. I think the image works.
"Stuck on the ceiling's vertebrae." I like this because it's just plain unique. I don't think it makes sense relative to what you've written, but it's fresh.
Now, these images, while good , as I intimated above, don't seem to fit together to form a consistent whole. Maybe you did this on purpose, intending to put the reader into the drug-induced state of the person about whom the narrator laments. There is textual evidence for this such as "shake the shakes" in line 7, "swing the swinging motion/of the room, dizzy" in lines 8-9, the enjambment of line 10 into the second stanza, giving the piece that uneasy, wobbly feeling one gets when on the hazy border between stoned and coming down, between euphoria and vomiting on your shoes. If this is your intention, okay, but the poem is through the point of view not of the drug abuser, but of the friend, and so the blurry head-trip doesn't make much sense.
If this isn't your intention, then the jumps you make from one image to the next, and the leaps of imagination I must make in picturing some of this doesn't make any sense from the point of view of someone who has their head on straight grieving over someone who doesn't or didn't.
For instance, in stanza one you start out with a devil haunting dreams, but the "through a needy servant's/broken hand" doesn't connect. Who is the needy servant? The drug user? Why the broken hand? I don't get it.
In stanza two:
"star
could be born in,
fleshy and trembling
upside down."
how is a star "fleshy and trembling?" Why upside down? Is this referencing blood in a syringe? Is this speaking about a hand outstretched? I just don't know; but when I think of stars I don't think of flesh.
"Won't you just stop
soddening your veins already?
Won't you just stop
making model airplanes
to crash and burn over hills
'till you're blood is spoiled
by engine fuel?"
We go from speaking of devils, stars, dreams, needy servants, and now we get a model airplane metaphor? What are you doing here? Is this person injecting airplane glue? The connection isn't clear to me. Moreover, if you literally meant that model airplanes "crash and burn," they don't unless deliberately smashed and set ablaze. I know you know they don't, so then the "crash and burn" is cliché.
"sound aches and
resonates the soil.
I know you long to return
to Mother."
Does sound ache or do certain sounds cause pain? I think it's a stretch to personify sound and I'm not sure how it being personified connects with the rest of this.
"umbilical chord
wrapped round your neck.
I found you blue and purple,
a human chameleon of moods"
So we go from devils, dreams, needy servants, stars made of flesh, model airplanes to a birth gone awry? Do you see where I'm coming from?
"velcro stare..." huh? Does Velcro stare? I admire your adventurousness, but does this work for the reader the way you imagined? When I think of lifeless, blank stares I think of many things that compare to them, but Velcro isn't one of these.
"Stuck on the ceiling's vertebrae,
you drew thick heavy breaths
imagining rainbows in your eyes
and a woman, holding you to her chest."
As much as I like "ceiling's vertebrae" as a phrase, I have a hard time imagining a ceiling being comparable to the bony spine. The images you use should make sense, and if they don't, it should make sense why they don't make sense.
Now, as to the title. It connotes Christianity, whether you meant that or not; but the rest of the poem, outside of one mention of a devil as opposed to "the" Devil, doesn't make any references to religious themes or images; so I would consider changing it.
I'm sorry, I probably seem mean. I don't mean to be, but I have to be honest in my assessments otherwise I'm doing you a disservice. You have talent, real talent. All of my writing is subject to the same kind of things I just pointed out. It's a process. Good luck!
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Thank you for your honest and critical view on this, bb.
And yes, I did intentionally make it so that this was all over the place, maybe something I can get away with sure, but that shouldn't make this incoherent. So that is something that needs to be fixed.
When someone is addicted to a drug, without a doubt they will be all over the place. And it doesn't help that his hallucinations were incredibly crazy, which may explain why you feel this just doesn't fit together. The 'ceiling's vertebrae' is one of the things he mumbled to me 'on his way down'
The star fleshy and trembling and upside down refers to a fetus. And I figured, hell, stars are so high up there and out of reach that that's what I think of him now.
I tried to answer your every point so forgive me if I missed anything. I am quite jumbled. Explains a lot eh?
Anyway, thanks a lot and no, you don't seem mean. It is a process. Better than receiving comments like 'I like it. Good job, you're great.' I want honesty by all means.
Cheers
Kristin
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wow
your imagery in this is stunning
i love this because it conveys your feelings toward the subject (the person, i mean) in an honest, non-overdramatic way - but i still get the sense of your sadness for them, and your empathy.
"where sound aches and
resonates the soil.
I know you long to return
to Mother."
i like it.
i like it all.
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Thank you I'm glad you took the time to read and comment, appledrop.
Glad ya liked it
Kristin
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remember the other poem in which you commented that you felt you couldn't write 'new' poetry?
well...to me...you did just that with this one. i won't pretend i know what it's about
but certain parts of it made 9/11 pop up in my mind. especially the 4th verse and the 1st couple of lines of the 5th.
"nosedive toward the ground"
"I know you long to return
to Mother//And on your way down, I got up
at 11:10 am..."
all of a sudden, in the same 5th verse you take like a 180° turn and put the reader like in the delivery room. that was quite, cool/artistic.
"a human chameleon of moods"-that's a nice one. nice comparison.
overall, i dig this one. it's fresh, open. new poetry(in my opinion). kinda makes me think about dying on one end, to finish all misery and suffering. and on the other: birth. quite a drastic feel to this one. but, it's fresh/new.
keep it up.
language: 4, rhythm: 4, subject: 3, tone: 3, form: 3.
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:)
Thanks much, Zorro.
And it's hard to read/hear anything about plains nosediving and what not without thinking of 9/11. But that wasn't a part of this, though I can see how that conclusion could be drawn so that's cool.
It's about watching a close friend, who's simply wonderful and dear to you and having them O.D.
The syringe/engine fuel/hallucination references in this point fingers at heroin, for taking my friend from me. He was a victim by his own choice though so it's an odd subject. I feel bad and miss him. But I hate him for doing that to himself more than anything.
Glad it came across as drastic as it is a serious risky subject to even write about. I tried to compile it the way it happened though, and not leave any gaps. I've never thought about it so much since it happened. Kinda weighs on the writers' mind.
Anyway, enough rambling on my part, thanks a lot for reading and keep going on that poem. I like the start of it as I told you in a personal message and I'm curious to see what it turns out to be.
Cheers
Kristin
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Well... confusion and the disoriented frame of mind of a person on a major high... comes out very well in the poem... primarily because I feel that the poem is written in such a way... or maybe what you call "rough" really adds to that?
I guess you wrote this in one go? And I think that too adds to the whole "Wasted" feeling of the person in the poem. Its just pouring out of the guts.
THe only suggestion I would have for you is to remove the last lines of the first and the fourth stanzas. And if you are convinced it is rough you could work on it till you feel better about it, but it feels pretty complete to me?
ANd... u were the saviour for your friend??? -
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Thank you very much, himanshumodi, for reading and commenting.
It's always nice of you to stop by.
I wrote this one in two go's, which isn't much and I suppose that's why it feels really rough still.
But I don't think removing those lines would solve this problem since the last lines in the first stanza are there to flow into the next, and the last lines of the entire poem are of course, the ending. But that doesn't mean I don't value your outlook on this, it is still something to be considered. And perhaps I could remove the ending lines and replace it with something better?
You have provoked my thoughts about this a bit, hopefully I can add to it today. I don't like when poems just linger, incredibly unfinished to the writer.
Thanks again, himanshumodi, take care.
Kristin
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Maybe not as rough as you might think, Synth...
...but that will be up to you. I get the feeling, through all your very rich metaphors and symbols, that the poet is desperately attending to the final flight, so to say, of a dear friend dying from a drug overdose, and all through the night - but in vain; he or she has died. If that's your intended imaging here, Kristin, I think the poem is splendid.
There are so many brightly original phrases in this one that I can hardly single them out - velcro stare, freedom singing, blood...spoiled by engine fuel, swing the swinging motion, sound aches and resonates the soil - among many others. For me, this poem has more of those shining connotations than most any of your others. And they all gather up to the poet's plaintive, helpless tone - a tone which comes through clearly for this reader.
A few word choices, though - strong though they are - seem a bit contrived and don't quite help to deepen their contextual passages because, to me at least, they seem out of place. Here are a few and my suggestions for your consideration:
a needy servant's... might be my needy servants's - if that's your meaning there;
upside down... could better be inside out;
on the ceiling's vertebrae...in the ceiling's grip;
a human chameleon...a gleaming starchild. But all those are merely my opinions, Kristin.
The poem doesn't seem to be summed or gathered up in its current title. Maybe "Out of the Depths" would work?
And, if your friend actually did die, maybe the final lines could say that? You could, you would / you did and you're gone. ? But if the friend didn't die, then your final lines are just right.
I like this poem a lot, Kristin. It's loaded with a developing rhythm as it moves to its end, and it's very rich with compassion.
Lad
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Hey Lad
Thanks so much for taking time for this one, it's appreciated. It's always wonderful to see what you take my poetry as, since most of the time, you get it word for word.
The reason I chose 'upside down' was referring to the umbilical reference, a baby upside down in the womb can get strangled by his own chord.
That's probably the only factor of this that I won't be making changes to.
'Ceiling's vertebrae' refers to the 'tripping' so to speak and also, the fact that a ceiling, higher than he is, has much more back bone. A dreamy reference there, it's not very clear at all so I can see why that could be changed.
I've changed the title once already...but I may change it again, I'm not sure.
And lastly, the final lines, 'you did' suggests to me at least that he did in fact die. I didn't want to come right out and say he was gone.
But I will revise and revise and revise. I will keep your thoughts in mind as they are welcomed and always strong.
Thank you Lad!
Kristin
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Rough, but good. The rhythm builds (rushing) and i like that. And the second stanza reminds me of the devil very well...the lines match the way i think the devil sounds like.
The third stanza:
"stuck on the ceiling's vertebrae
and incredible height."
feels imbalanced. The ending doesn't seem to work for me. the contrast between "Vertebrae" and "Height" felt awkward. That's just me though.
I like the original phrases you come up with, such as:"Human chameleon of moods" and "Velcro stare."
The last three stanzas felt loosely tied to the rest of the poem. I can't seem to fit things well. I get the point for the need to include those lines, but they seem to float. Unless you intended them to. And the title leaves me thinking...hmmm...maybe a more appropriate title would do.
There are varied images here, but im not sure what your trying to portray. I can try and say they seem to talk about suicide...a variety of methods. Hmm...oh well. that's my try and my random thought on your poem. Welcome back synth!
-iphios -
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Hey iphios
Yes, I find you to be quite right with your criticism here.
I'll try and figure out how I can tie it to the poem more clearly for everyone else.
The main point of it and my reason for mentioning test tubes and needles is because this is about an old old friend of mine who died using heroin. I need to find a way to make that clearer for sure or else there's not much of a point to it at all.
Thankyou iphios, I appreciate the comment.
Kristin
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