Tonight is Mantra’s night. What she has on the menu is a philosophical look into the drama with which we are inevitably surrounded. Even those who operate merely in the virtual world, eventually find themselves pulled into some sort of scam. The lengths to which some will go are simply mind-boggling.
If you cannot tell by her thoughtful snapshot tonight, this will be a poem born of social observation, an intricate look into the psychology of the events we endure and the events we survive. Mantra questions why we do the things we do. Fairies are not well versed in why humans do anything except inscribe musings of great import.
Please Be Seated
No seat belts are needed for this ride, as it is only the carousel. Do pick the animal which best represents your personality or whimsy.
This poem has been well-received, yet everyone who has read it thought it went down a different path. Neither you nor your neighbor will be in total agreement, which is fine. There is much to explore. The carousel will make more than one revolution.
You may be just joining the ride in motion, as it began last Friday with Poured Out and continued to develop on the Saturday Evening Post. Not unlike the Ode the Hateful Vocabulary, this poem brings to bear on the personal relationship ills with polysyllabic mallets. The cheat sheet is enabled.
As this poem developed, I noticed a resemblance to the Autumn People. If you do not know the reference from Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes, take a moment to watch the library scene from the movie entitled the same, beginning at 2:00. See if you can draw the parallel or if you come up with something entirely different.
How desolate is the silence of the night.
The moon stands silent guard over endless fields.
A breeze brushes past without making a sound,
And the darkness is thick in its wake.
Scratches at my arm, not feeling quite right,
An eerie and unsettling sentience
Pawing at my soul. Clawing at my heart.
Huddled in my throat. No sound can I make.
A tempest caught inside my head. In my mind,
I gather my thoughts, lest they be pilfered.
Yet hoping the maelstroms cease quietly,
Whether in disinterest or of fatigue,
Allowing me time to heal once again.
Those freshly knitted scars are still tender
And unable to carry weighty problems.
Complications leave my mind in a fugue.
Endless excuses for backward logic.
Priorities randomly upside down
And inside out. Running ’round in circles
Until dizziest confusion sets in.
Again, smiting one’s nose to spite the face,
Only to realize one’s been bloodied
At its own hand, instead of exacting
Appropriate, rightful, timely revenge.
Worse still is serving it warm, where it is,
More often than not, dismissed sour grapes,
Leaving the potential lesson unlearned.
So, another round on the carousel,
Spinning past the scenery, not seeing
The emptiness behind the quaint façades,
But returning for more vacuous stunts
Without pausing to rest for a spell
In which to gather up one’s wits about
And fathom the abysmal blackening
The shells created in their pandering
For one’s attention, resources and time.
One freely opens the mind, purse and heart,
Yet fails to acknowledge no loss occurred
Because gifts had no announced strings attached.
Therefore, the taking was surely no crime.
The woe and strife, the stressors and heartache
Are merely illusions designed for one,
But sometimes we all fall for those cruelly
Sublime, immaculate machinations
Which connivingly ensnare humane minds
Preferring to divest charlatonesque
Qualities from those we closely embrace
Never fearing cannibalization.
When it comes home, and entrails are exposed,
Rather than adapt the safety device
To trap such wretched minions, pinned harmless,
We allow rehearsal of future wiles.
Still granting access to what we hold dear,
Building up tolerance for scheduled pain,
Permitting abuse, loaning it money
To buy out our souls, while wearing a smile
Lest we be deemed the unscrupulous one
Who had wherewithal to turn on the light
And make the nocturnal demons and fiends
Run from practical reason out of fright.
Do you see the drama creators in your life as the Autumn People? Do you adapt? How do you stop the feeding? Have you gotten off the carousel? Would you like to?
© Red Dwyer 2012
Reblogging of this or any other post on The M3 Blog is expressly forbidden.
Image, soundtrack and trailer from Something Wicked This Way Comes are all copyrighted (1983) to Walt Disney Studios.