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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Careless Truth


Nyyark

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Twirling blues and purples

Over a colorless checkered floor.

Whirling reds and yellows

Forming a silent dancing roar.

 

Frozen sharply in a snap

As a cold intake of breath.

The black and white collapse like glass,

And the dancers fall like petals

 

Spinning madly in the abyss

In a twisting angry gust.

Floating Midnight black above them

I stare down in disgust.

 

How could I not know what we were?

They must of known before now.

Such a sweet whisper in my ear

That sent my world falling down.

 

I can't live with this,

I can't live with us,

There are one too many that are missed,

I'll tear off the garment in one mighty thrust.

 

Swirling swiftly the black cloak falls

To join the others in the dance.

While glowing and appalled

Truth takes its first stance.

 

 

Edited by: Nyyark at: 5/9/02 1:58:57 pm

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Guest Xradion

        Very nice. A poem characterized by contradictions. "Colorless checkered floor," "silent dancing roar." I must confess: I'm not certain I understood your message, but I really enjoyed the imagery. Question: In the fifth stanza, line three, did you mean to say "on to many" or "one to many?" I assumed you meant the latter, but wasn't sure.

 

        At any rate, I’ll take a crack at your meaning. I see this as a poem about piercing through appearances, about casting off the superficial vale that shields us from the beings we harbor within us, beneath the fancy clothes, beneath the flesh. This message becomes more evident in the last two stanzas. This poem also struck me as having a sort of apocalyptic quality to it. Lines like, "Spinning madly in the abyss…/I stare down in disgust," remind one of hell, and of the baser nature of human beings. However, the dancers "fall like petals," and it is a "sweet whisper" that sends your world falling down. Once again, the dual nature of humanity seems to be hinted at, as with your previous contradictions, clarified in light of these new ones. In a way, it also reminds me a little of Lucifer’s descent into hell. Lucifer was God’s most prized and beautiful creation, ‘till he became consumed with narcissistic pride and avarice. Still, there is nothing to say that he didn’t preserve his former appearance superficially… The careless truth of this poem strikes me as being the knowledge of this true nature of man, which could potentially shatter the glass checkerboard of appearances and send us spiraling into the abyss. However, truth is triumphant at the end, as the subject/speaker casts off his black garment and sends it spiraling into the abyss.

 

        Very well executed. Keep up the good work!

 

 

 

Xradion,

The Horny Druid,

Scholar of the Ancient Arts,

Holder of the Eye of Odin.

 

"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

-Wallace Stevens

 

"When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion

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