Metallic Self

Late in the day

There was a gradual clearing

Of the fog, like in middle-age

The crisis past, the youth

 

So Maligned, we laugh

To ourselves, under our breath

Wrung itself like a sponge

The sophistry it still comes out

 

Like a no-color agony

The habit to Punish oneself

Even when, nobody is watching

Nuance of masochism

 

Trace of lips of the cave

Where we were once a single pearl

In the engendering womb

Of our mother’s diet

 

Now, we remain covetous of our autonomy

Bandaged in platinum

From a lifetime of self-defense

We have perfected this

 

The minute by minute selfishness

A clandestine adaption

That we arguably listen closer

To the whispers, than to the voices.

Reviews

[Nao Deguchi]

Hello EMF, yes counterpoint is a good description. The art must be secondary to the person, yep.

[EMF]

"A decomposing corpse brings forth more life than a single ear of corn."

Herein lies the nub of the poem for me. It has a youthfulness and struggle to strive about it that defines the thematic struggle. Neither one nor both but a seperate entity. It has an interesting theme handled by others that counterpoints both potentialities of self and non-self. The struggle and perforce seem a little forced. Yet not a bad thing, for in this struggle to develop we learn and grow, allowing our suit of art to fit us, rather than forcing ourself to fit the art.