My heart chimes an echo of birth-giving screams.
I hear it clearest in the deepest of dreams.
At times it will rise in the roar of my mind,
And merge with the words that cry love blind.
My eyes rued a glance of a sullied pure-soul.
Slit iris enhanced within orbs black as coal,
Slice through me, beyond me to futures unknown -
Tears squeezed from foulest bitter-seed sown.
Her pore skin weeps mist - soft diamonds glistening,
Ears bathe in bile; to vitriol listening.
Prim princesspit pools ooze forth rancid lagoons.
Sweat shines with ice-light; pale as the moons.
My submerged ego returns - waxes then wanes,
From sunrise exploding to gloomy-dusk-chains.
At times a cry rings from the core of my mind:
Sequestered in silence; starving love blind.
And Echopia resurgent - all I seek
A return to those times when love was not meek
But strengthened anon by adversities´ bind
And Myopia squinting still shined.
Author notes
Notes:
An echo of times past and still to come? Of births engendering the utmost respect. Of little deaths scourging the spine of regret. Of actions echoing in the mind as constant reminders of inadequacy and short-sighted decisions committed thereof. Echoes of Utopias which were not to be.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
-
suffused
What a pleasure to hear rhymes in form that actually enhance the images. The moist, dense, human tissue images shine out stronger with the set rhythm, sort of swimmy. A rather epic poem! Thanks.
. Rewarded 4
-
your writes gG, no matter how profound, allow me to care less for what you really mean. I catch myself finding my way back to these pages, despite the fact that i get lost in it, most of the time. perhaps it's when i'm lost, that I find sense in it all.
This one, reminds me of bittersweet real life happenings. For instance, the introduction gives me a picture of a mother giving birth - truly a painful process but truly sweet in its every essence. I love this paragraph the most, btw. I thought it succeeded in catching the reader's attention and flowed really well. I felt something caught in my throat or something ached in my chest area whilst I was reading it.
i also like the 4th stanza. I don't know but i feel something so familiar with it. hmmm....
Magnificent write gG...as always.
thank you. you inspire me,
LYNNE
. Rewarded 4
-
I think I got you...
You remind me of Edgar Allen Poe.
And this poem...the ear gave it away. Nevertheless, realization would have dawned upon me. You write really good. Yep, you write really good. You despise genetic engineering and how it is dehumanizing humanity to a socio-pathic bastard child of no feeling. Yep, that's what I got from this. Please let me know if correct before I proceed any further. As usual, absolutely excellent and razor sharp. Lemme know so that I may proceed further lest you be laboriously laden with my mistaken foppery.
Al -
-
Never Foppery, Plumeister!
This one is a wierd concoction of personalised externalisation (if anyone knows what the fuck that means). Your inter was great and certainly relevant, Al. You hit the inner thread on the head with your astute observation on the genetic sociopathic link dehumanising spirituality. I don´t think these are neccessarily mutually exclusive however and I´ve no doubt g.e. will play a part in our futures, but it is important to retain the moral equation in all this as I´m sure you´ll agree.
Echopia is basically the impressions of a tortured soul seeping out in the flesh of an even more tortured form. Both have echoes of the other, both idolize yet fear the other.
There is something perverse about mice with human ears growing out of their spines especially with the huge ammount of suffering that goes on behind closed lab doors.
Is it the price to pay for medical break-thrus, crazy babies and mutant follies? I wonder?
Thanx for your take on this confusing piece, Al. As always I really appreciate it.
Warmest rearguards
gG
-
-
I was a little lost......
...and to an extent, I still am. When I get to a point where I feel I might have a grasp of a key message, I read on and feel I might have lost it again.
There is no doubting the skill and attention to detail you have put into this gG. Although, on reading the title a few times and reading (and re-reading) this piece, I sort of got a sense of Echo-Myopia rather than Echo-Utopia from this. Maybe the horrific and beautifully-amazing picture sets the scene too much for me here and I am reading too much (and as a result too little) into this work. My interpretation was one of times past where life (birth to death) was a far more simple affair; God was worshipped and acknowledged as the sole creator of all living things (more or less). This in turn might suggest that we would regard these past-times (echoes) as short-sighted (myopic) as they did not necessarily acknowledge the potential we might have to create life ourselves. And your picture, in a way supports that. So the grafting of human organs from animals and cloning, these days, are becoming increasingly achieveable. So I got a sense that you were almost reminiscing on simpler, more basic times.
The imagery, beautiful phrases and wordplay is ever present and I adore this aspect of your work; you are an extremely talented writer.
My favourites?
Well you might guess that as a lover of homophony "Her pore skin weeps mist" is right up there! But also "Prim princesspit pools ooze forth rancid lagoons" is awesome - supreme alliteration, brutal imagery along with words which play with the imagination (it could be either Princess Pit or Princes Spit) and to an extent, with the subject matter pertaining to birth, both might be relevent.
Needless to say, the rhyming pattern and rhythm aid a bloody good flow mate; I just wish I felt I had the meaning truly nailed!
Cheers,
Mart
-
-
Cheers Mart!
The wealth of generosity within your words is something I truly cherish. Your interpretation is as always finely erudite and relevant. My (attempted) motive behind this piece is basically the interconnectedness of all things (brightandbeautiful-ahem!) at a personalized level. It did develop as a stream of consciousness thing Mart which usually is just another term for "vague". Each verse was meant to be a stand-alone yet part of a disparate whole (is that an oxymoron??) - it follows some of the sub-themes conveyed in Ulcirrus (beyond without upside-beneath etc) that tries in its poor way to evoke a sense of disorientation. In our everyday existence we very rarely allow all our senses to interpolate their sensory haul in tandem to our mindview so our idea of "reality" is disjointed and diffuse.
Ok that´s the quasi-philosophy angle.
Whereas Ulcir had a palpable journey however and a certain cohesion Echopia intravolutes (yepp a neologism) and goes all personalized, dealing with echoes of past, present and future - aspirations of alternate outcomes if you will.
And about how if we squint hard enough we can kid ourselves that even shit is paradise. And about the guilt I feel for not being a better partner to my wife and father to my boy and girl.
I\d have to give an interp for virtually every line I´m afraid if this was to become wholly clear. So in a way it could be construed as a poetic wank - a masturbatory muse.
So bollox to this convoluted interp, I think I´ll adhere instead to your own worthy one Mart!
Cheers again!
gG
PS There´s also cesspit pools in the homophone
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 6 of 6
