little light seeps in dustily between cracks in the boards, secondhand from a cobwebbed window somewhere across the cellar
I love this line. I feel the imagery best describes hope shining through the dark.
little light seeps in dustily between cracks in the boards, secondhand from a cobwebbed window somewhere across the cellar
I love this line. I feel the imagery best describes hope shining through the dark.
d. The youths and girls have mounted their horses and are beginning to group around the starting line of the course. An old woman, small, fat, and laughing, is passing out flowers from a basket, and tall young men wear her flowers in their shining hair. A child of nine or ten sits at the edge of the crowd, alone, playing on a wooden flute. People pause to listen, and they smile, but they do not speak to him, for he never ceases playing and never sees them, his dark eyes wholly rapt in the sweet, thin magic of the tune.
I'm getting a little pied piper affect?
I fear that Omelas so far strikes some of you as goody-goody. Smiles, bells, parades, horses, bleh. If so, please add an orgy. If an orgy would help, don't hesitate. Let us not, however, have temples from which issue beautiful nude priests and priestesses already half in ecstasy and ready to copulate with any man or woman, lover or stranger, who desires union with the deep godhead of the blood, although that was my first idea
Honestly this screams, "just be human." It is okay to engage in the nature of your feelings. Sex is natural. One quote i remember from the show sense 8 states, "We exist because of sex. It's not something to be afraid of. It's something to honor, to enjoy"
If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else.
This is almost like that sense of festering in your own despair because that's what people like to talk about more and what they like to feed off of. The cup half empty affect.
As they did without monarchy and slavery, so they also got on without the stock exchange, the advertisement, the secret police, and the bomb. Yet I repeat that these were not simple folk, not dulcet shepherds, noble savages, bland utopians. They were not less complex than us.
I felt the sense of historical reference in the moment of many societies we have seen through time.
But we do not say the words ofcheer much any more. All smiles have become archaic.
It makes me wonder what people really found joy in. Like why the word archaic? Has it died out?
Children dodged in and out, their high calls rising like the swallows' crossing flights over the music and the singing. All the processions wound towards the north side of the city, where on the great water-meadow called the Green Fields boys and girls, naked in the bright air, withmud-stained feet and ankles and long, lithe arms, exercised their restive horses before the race.
I love this sense of humanity and the innocence of life. It brings out this feeling of happiness.
So much is stunted in understanding of what a light can be They storm the scrimmage line and clear-cut bran and germ We want the petal unto itself, the unalterable vessel The arc end of the precipice grows 1.9% annually What was popular music like before the crisis?
This definitely makes me think about the recession (whichever one it may be, but I believe 2008), poverty, and Wall Street. Wall Street and the one percent clearly benefit and do not have to struggle financially, but lower income people have to suffer for them to succeed.
On NBC, CNN, and NPR broken windows are weeping
The news has a way of highlighting the homes that have broken windows, broken into, homelessness, etc. Like only showcasing the bad side. And then also showing the depression and the sadness of it all but not really doing anything about it.
I saw a shooting star thru a window on Alcatraz Ave
Alcatraz from what I know is a prison. And from the stories I've heard of being in prison, you would do anything to get out. So the shooting star imagery is very metaphorical to that experience.
pinch the meat of their young red tongues.
Minorities are always fetishized. Like they are so "wild and exotic." That's what I think of when I see young red tongues. The term red is often associated with Native Americans, which is highly offensive. But it makes me think of the "jungle fever (black people)," "yellow fever (asians)," and "scarlet/red fever(native americans)."
Riveted bramble of passive verbs etched in wood—
The story of "thanksgiving" comes to mind. The real story. The one where Native Americans opened their homes and gave food to pilgrims but would later fight battles, catch diseases, and die because of them.
Where trouble was brewing. Where, after further hostilities, the army was directed to enter. Where the village was razed after the skirmish occurred. Where most were women and children.
Genocide of Native Americans. Colonization of Native Americans.
Yellowstone or Yosemite and the byway’s historical marker beckons them to the site of an Indian village—
Indigenous lands are one of epic conversation because they rarely get addressed. We rarely like to acknowledge we live on stolen land.
Life is short and the worldis at least half terrible, and for every kindstranger, there is one who would break you,though I keep this from my children. I am tryingto sell them the world. Any decent realtor,walking you through a real shithole, chirps onabout good bones: This place could be beautiful,right? You could make this place beautiful.
This was definitely a more postive realistic note than the first lines in the beginning of the poem. It's like saying she's not trying to show her children that the world is terrible so that they can still bring beauty to the world. The children have potential to make it better so you have to show them the potential in the world.
Maybe that's what they meant when they said you shouldn't love a country too much.
Sometimes, especially living in America, you get to a certain point where this country shows you ways that it doesn't love you back.
I want to, but you grow inside of me. And as I watch you, before I know it, I'm too heavy, too full of you to move.
I immediately thought about abortion/women's heath rights in America. I also think of pride. Because when you are at a disadvantage as a minority, that pride can bite you.
haven't we grown? What does it mean to be older?
A lot of times as younger people, we get told that all our problems, all our feelings, will make sense when we get older. But as history repeats and the same lessons continuously have to be taught, when is it finally NOT about being "older"?
Who needs to be at peace in the world? It helps to be between wars, to die a few times each day to understand your father's sky,
History often repeats itself. And you can't meet peace without being at war.
words were the only way I ever knew how to fight.
This could be taken in context to our current political climate. Because we have a lot more people using their words to speak out against injustice.
to those who would rather make an outline out of me.
Words are powerful in changing perspective. Because they can flip the script on what people think they know about you and paint a whole new picture. A whole new, complex person.
wield language as a tool & fist & weapon & warning
the power of language is incredible.
a greek chorus
this is a strange thing for me because in theater history, we learn that the greek chorus is actually suppose to speak what the theme and conflict actually is, usually before the main characters know themselves.
“They convinced me” meaning they had dragged her 4'10'' black Woman's frame over the hot coals of four centuries of white male approval until she let go the first real power she ever had and lined her own womb with cement to make a graveyard for our children.
This puts survival, especially for black women, in a whole new perspective. Like doing whatever to survive or make it even. "four centuries of white male approval" is a sign of the conditioned mentality black women have been taught to believe.
A policeman who shot down a ten year old in Queens stood over the boy with his cop shoes in childish blood and a voice said “Die you little motherfucker” and there are tapes to prove it. At his trial this policeman said in his own defense “I didn't notice the size nor nothing else only the color”. And there are tapes to prove that, too.
This is truly a sad sequence because children are really dying because of their blackness and being treated with punishment for their existing blackness. And you could have all the proof in the world, and people will still try to make these actions justifiable.
trying to heal my dying son with kisses only the sun will bleach his bones quicker.
A comment on black lives matter and colorism.
make power out of hatred and destruction
This comment definitely screams, "white supremacy" to me. White supremacists have been a hurricane like force for many years. Somehow they come back with vengence and more hatred.
the whiteness of the desert where I am lost without imagery or magic
The desert is symbolism I believe to the white privileged system in our country. Where survival is so desperate and hope is lost. You need almost like a magic wish or a genie lamp to help because nothing is around to help you. I also thought about "black girl magic" when I saw the word "magic."
I am trapped on a desert of raw gunshot wounds and a dead child dragging his shattered black face off the edge of my sleep blood from his punctured cheeks and shoulders is the only liquid for miles
Very visually disturbing. Descriptions of " dragging his shattered black face," "blood," "punctured," and "liquid," all create a very powerful yet painful imagery.
The difference between poetry and rhetoric is being ready to kill yourself instead of your children.
This is a very powerful beginning simply because it is something you need to read more than once. With poetry, a lot of poets are internally exposing themselves. They get very deep and honest about what they are going through. With rhetoric you are using persuasion and depending on what your message is, it can be harmful to those who listen. Or cause people to do harm to others.
We still live in an America where America still lives in us
I have a love/hate relationship with America. I guess that makes me a true American right?
the same sun that once invigorated your passion continues to provide us with the beauty of life worth fighting for
So poetic, I might tattoo this on my arm.
We still live in an America where not everyone can appreciate the beauty of immigration, crowded streets, brutal differences, urban affection
This is so powerful! I hate how we have this idea that there is no sense of community and diversity when it comes to immigration! It's only "they are bad and they shouldn't be here." Anyone against that has clearly never seen or wanted to understand the positive aspects of it.
We still live in an America where books cannot prevent war and the sick and wounded need healing
Unfortunately, people can know all the problems of the world and what is wrong and still not do anything about it. In fact, they may profit off of it.
breaking tradition and the boundaries of poetic form are considered the trademarks of a pretentious ass
Honestly, I think about hip hop rappers when I read this line. Because even they aren't considered poets, when I think some of them are.
unless you belong to a church, you are a religious skeptic believing in nothing
This very real to my own experience in religion. Because if you are not fully devout, you aren't a real "believer."
We still live in an America where poets have to work while publishing to survive financial difficulty unless they are fashioned like Shakespeare
Artists have a harder time making a living. And it's usually frowned upon for even choosing art as a profession.
prostitution is considered trashy and profane
Sex work is still considered "taboo" even though women, especially women of color, depend on sex work and aren't given many options to succeed and thrive. Instead of it being considered humane, it is villainized.
We still live in an America where Christ and Dracula provide both excitement and fear for restless lives longing for a simple touch
Everybody is searching for something to believe in and everyone is searching for the answer.
We still live in an America where rotting leaves, tufts of straw, and debris are found in more homes than poetry books
If anyone has been to Baltimore City in Maryland, this is a visual of the hundreds of foreclosed, boarded up row homes that I see whenever I visit. I know this real for other cities, where poverty thrives and the power of education lacks.
where the audacity to openly enjoy the pleasures of sex and being respected for wisdom are contradictions without reconciliation
This is a very real problem for women.
We now live in an America where blacks are not only allowed the right to vote but can become the Redeemer President of the United States
One of the most pivotal moments in American history was the election of Barack Obama. He changed what could be and what black people could dream to be.
Please remain calm, or we can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.
Black Lives Matter was founded on the victims of killings in America due to police or people who thought they were police. Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Alton Sterling. Freddie Grey. Sandra Bland. They all did "something wrong" that cost them their lives.
You were detained for interrogation because you fit the profile. You are not presumed to be innocent if the police have reason to suspect you are carrying a concealed wallet. It’s not our fault you were born wearing a gang color. It is not our obligation to inform you of your rights.
I visualize the racial profiling black and brown people have to go through. Simply for existing, police find reasons to interrogate because "you look suspicious." But it's all the systemic racism of American police that dictates whether you get approached. And many of times arrested or killed. You lose rights existing as a black/brown person in front of the police and it is up to them on what could happen next.
If you cannot understand English, you will be moved out of the way.
It is a shame how in our own country people whose first language isn't English are still looked at as not being American. Or immigrants who come to country not knowing English are treated as second-class citizens. I've seen the videos where people will complain to a minority, speaking in their native language, yelling "SPEAK ENGLISH! THIS IS AMERICA!" It's frightening to think people cannot be themselves, all parts of themselves.
We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.
This feels current to racism and homophobia expressed by businesses who refused service to minorities. Black people, LGBT people, Muslim people. It's still very relevant.
guarantee your safety if you disobey our instructions.
Many of times as black people, we have to follow a guideline with police so that we don't end up as another hashtag. But also if a black person is killed, the excuse is always "what did they do wrong? they should've done this."
We are not responsible for your lost or stolen relatives.
I immediately think about lost and stolen relatives of black oppression. Slavery, Jim Crow laws, mass incarceration, the black lives matter movement. In aspects of the fact that people were stolen from their homes during slavery. People were stolen fro drug charges and raids that led to vicious cycle of imprisonment. Lost because of the millions and millions of black bodies killed and lost for existing.
I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here, our country moving closer to its own truth and dread, its own ways of making people disappear.
I know this poem was written more than 2 decades ago, but I get a visual of our current political climate when reading this section of the poem. Referencing to the Trump Administration and the relation to Russia, it all references a new thought that probably wasn't intended when it was written. But that's the time we are in now.
Because you still listen, because in times like these to have you listen at all, it's necessary to talk about trees.
Trees are the most aged plants to exist. They can be hundreds of years old and still grow with promise. So it's like personification to think that trees have seen what has come before and knows the past. They have seen and heard things though depths in time. So when talking about the trees, you can understand what came before.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
I know that in history many, many, many times people have asked for true freedom and even when you achieved some level of "freedom", it was always some catch that felt worse than before. So there is this endless, vicious cycle of oppression from the ancestors who wanted better and dreamed of better that didn't come true completely. People are still suffering and people are still dying. So the whole thing to do is speak out and hope someone is listening.
The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn and he names the sky his own
It's easy to believe in possibilities of what can be from the world when you have so little. It's like visualizing the freedom and happiness that could come if the world was different.
But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.
I believe this is symbolism for oppression.
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky.
This is very aesthetically pleasing to read. I can visualize the bird surrounded by nature and flying through the sky.