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Skin


dr_con

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Skin

 

Being born is suicide,

carrying the patina of death

an ever changing scarification

around Our flesh, bones and fluids

a composition of errors, the perfect

illusion of wholeness, pretending We

are not ill. I sometimes wish I inherited

 

a sociopathology greater than Rebellion

the whole "I shall not serve" fall from

grace; maybe then i could accept

emptiness as a matter of taste

rather than a mark of culture

It took me weeks, to see

the pen my daughter

 

gave me for Christmas

was an invitation

to write more

 

not another knickknack to decorate this temporary

home, We call living. I have always been bad at letters

obsessed with the hope between the lines, too often

taken at my words, rather than the truth which lies

beneath Our skin.

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Ive read this four times now since you posted it...

every sentence has many amazing things to look at within it.... just amazing work...

 

what does manage to trip me up a bit, is the separated out lines about your daughters gift - but it doesnt trip me up in a bad way- it only makes me look closer... Im uncertain (not a bad way to be with a poem) the why of those three lines being spaced from the rest ...

 

Im left with the distraction

but also left with a sort of "not wanting to know" ... so its an interesting distraction ... interesting too, that that should be the "thinnest" part of the poems shape... all the rest at the base and the top, has such depth of meaning- but this part has a personal depth to it, that I feel invited to lend a different sort of concentration around

 

very masterful dr con

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This one's more than skin deep, as I've come to expect from all of your compositions, Dr.C! icon_smile.gif I can appreciate the intellectual honesty shown here:

... Our flesh, bones and fluids

a composition of errors, the perfect

illusion of wholeness, pretending We

are not ill.

And this part invites the reader to take another really good look at the without and the within:

... maybe then i could accept

emptiness as a matter of taste

rather than a mark of culture.

I enjoyed taking the look.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Many Thanks Tony and Rumi S. for your perceptive comments. I truly appreciate the engagement with my poetry @ a deeper level;-)

 

DC

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Your opening is strong

 

Being born is suicide,

 

spoken of in extremely pessimist tone.

 

an ever changing scarification

 

Health buffs would tell you that aging is not toxic, that there are civilizations with long lives and vocabularies without concept of war and violence.

 

rather than the truth which lies

 

Very clever pause here. In this Lent, the age old question still rings, quid est veritas?

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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Thank you JJ!

 

Not so much aging in my reading of this, rather a confrontation with the question of the flesh the inevitably of death and biologies way of protecting the organism- of course, that's just my interpretation;-)

 

And thank you for noting the quid est veritas;-)

 

DC

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Aleksandra

I sometimes wish I inherited

 

a sociopathology greater than Rebellion

the whole "I shall not serve" fall from

grace; maybe then i could accept

emptiness as a matter of taste

rather than a mark of culture

It took me weeks, to see

the pen my daughter

 

gave me for Christmas

was an invitation

to write more

 

In that part you are giving a lot to the reader Dr.Con. I love the compact in the middle of the poem.

 

and then the ending part:

 

I have always been bad at letters

obsessed with the hope between the lines, too often

taken at my words,
rather than the truth which lies

beneath Our skin
.

... talks about some real state of mind, which I like how is expressed.

 

This is nice wise poem with intellectual points and idea.

 

Thank you for sharing.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Dr.

 

Just a quick reply. I need to read a couple of more times to appreciate it.

It's quite introspective.

 

Will be back.

 

Lake

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dr_con,

 

That's very you -- the meditation, the depth in your poem. I can't pretend that I understand everything here, but I feel it is well crafted and carefully written with regard to its shape ( actually I stepped back trying to figure out what kind of picture it presents), line brakes, use of upper and lower case of letters.

 

The beginning line is a strong statement, though kind of depressing, which makes me wonder if later on you'd write something like "being dead is..."

 

maybe then i could accept

emptiness as a matter of taste

rather than a mark of culture

 

Whenever I see emptiness, I think of Tao; but nowadays this perception seems to have prevailed all over the world. It's not a cultural mark anymore, but kind of universal.

 

Like rumisong, I also felt the mention of daughter is a bit intruding, but at the same time I really liked the description of how you used the pen to write.

 

Yes, life and death is always a tough, heavy subject.

 

Thanks for sharing your thought.

 

Lake

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Thank you Lake! Well, some of my poems are thought knots, meant to convey all of the complexity of the thought behind the thought, picking up stray bits that are attached to the central theme- which may or may not be well defined by the author- so things get caught up as it progresses hopefully conveying as Joyce at his best does- things which can not be written ;-)

 

DC

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Neat capitalisation of 'Our' - why the lower case for maybe then i could accept?

 

The daughter's comment gave that personal element to draw in this reader and a composition of errors had irony and resonance. Loved the title.

 

badge

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Thanks Badge,

 

the "i" is meant to be the ego "i". which is the I having problems accepting, what the other I, has already accepted;-)

 

Many thanks for reading and commenting,

 

DC

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the "i" is meant to be the ego "i". which is the I having problems accepting, what the other I, has already accepted;-)

 

I should know better!

 

badge

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