Thread: Fundamental

Okay, so the format of this is not perfect, but it's the best I could do with the limitations on this site. Metaphor. Lots of layers.

Code:

Fundamental 

Thick bands of rope
 between my fingers 
like threaded vows,
 where Father hangs me 
from the top of the sky.
I don’t know how far I’ll fall 
when I begin to swing.
                                                               Father holds it all night
                                                                 and exhales pretty clouds 
                                                                   through the barrel of His gun, 
                                                                      spitting out crystals to christen me, 
                                                                            to make me holy like Him. One bullet 
                                                                                 hole through twine when He got me high.  
                                                                               When He spit rainbows from puff to puff.
                                                                           He’s a smoker. Smoke to make me better.
                                                                   I can see his crescent smile. Burnt palms.
                                                              Clouds with crystal perimeters. I don’t care
                                                           if I fall. If I can see the world He makes.

                                                   So give me a second shot for sex. 
                                    All these broken vows make my legs hot. 
                           Father, you are holy and wholly mine. And I
                    like to be tangled. I like to be tight. I like to ride
             the pendulum. You dangle me like bait to have it all. 
                   All of me, all of you. For the planet to swallow up.
                     Compressed in one image. You with absent clothes,
                          wearing me like a jacket that you could grind down
                             when it got too hot. We were always sweaty sinners.
                                   We knew how to be. We knew how to swing sex.
                                            I’ll never forget how you broke every thread. 
                                                      And Thy will be done if it turns you on.            

                                                        Father shoots me when He wants me.   
                                                           He wants me now. To be sick. To stick  
                                                              my body in a biohazard box where this rope
                                                                 won’t touch me. Bullet holes like open sores
                                                                   for me to ice with decay. I hate that I’m broken
                                                               and that everything is open. Breathing isn’t easy
                                                           when my feet have no ground. When I can hear
                                                       the quiet snap of my fingers bouncing off clouds.
                                                 I had to let go and watch Him rise. Gun at his jaw.

                                                 All His breath 
                                                 like upward rain.
                                                 Cold kisses that push
                                                 me in every direction
                                                 with nothing to hold.

It kept me reading so I'm impressed. Poetry isn't really my thing so forgive me when I ask the obvious. Is it about god?

Thank you for reading this. It has to do with someone playing God, so you're in the right direction.

Oh goodie, glad it wasn't about a puppy or something way off. It's full of emotion coming from a pretty dark place and I can feel that when I'm reading it.

Holy... wow. Angel (may I call you Angel?) this is amazing!

I honestly don't have a single crit to give it; just wanted to tell you that it really swept me away, albeit to a place I'm not so sure I wanted to go, but it was handled so beautifully I didn't even care... hope that made sense, ha.

Thank you. I really appreciate that. I've been working on this one for a little while. And when I finished, it was like... Okay. Now I can breathe.

Edit: Oh, and you can call me Angel if you'd like. Or Bayleigh or Bay. Whatever works for you.

Made a couple of changes to this. Just some subtle things.

Good stuff Angel. I especially dig the multiple levels you kneaded into the piece. Sex, drugs, god, power, submission...you can read the piece through many prisms. Sounds great aurally to.

Not normally a fan of esoteric formatting but this was at least pleasant to look at. The impression I got was of ebb and flow, ups and downs, high and sobriety, climax and the aftersex, etc, etc. I am interested in your decision to shape the poem this way.

I hated the last stanza. Even though I am not normally one to regurgitate that old, tepid cliche of "show, don't tell" (because it isn't always a virtue), I feel compelled to point out that you spent the bulk of the poem "showing" through what are essentially anecdotal snapshots before deflating the emotional power of the conclusion by making a blunt statement in the last stanza. To disagree is your prerogative of course. I'm only offering an opinion. Doesn't negate the excellence of the majority of the poem.

Actually, I'm not satisfied with the last stanza either. I've been working with it for the last few days. For one, it doesn't bring home what I was actually trying to say. But I need to say something there. I just don't know yet what words to put it in. If that makes sense.

As for the structure of this, it runs with the metaphor. I'm not sure if anyone has gotten it yet or not, but that's probably lack of clarity on my part. That's a frequent problem I have. I tend to bury everything. The sex, drugs, power, submission are a huge part of this, but the core of this piece runs a little deeper than that.

Bay, we can always count on you to write a powerfully intruiging piece.

First, about formating. Very iconiclastic. I think cummings would applaud you. I like how you had to make me work at it. Very clever, indeed.

Oh yes, Father. Of course, THE God in a maleable mind. You present you both as conspirators. A shocking read which would wake up the most lazy reader.

Father holds it all night
and exhales pretty clouds
through the barrel of His gun,
spitting out crystals to christen me

Love the highlighted. However, spitting out crystals to christen me
takes away from the imagery. On its own line or in different context I like it very much.

You with absent clothes,
wearing me like a jacket that you could grind down
when it got too hot.

Highlighted is brilliant! But, again, the following words take away from this wonderful alliterative gem, making the piece unclear...for me.

All His breath
like upward rain.
Cold kisses that push
me in every direction
with nothing to hold.

Brilliant, again. So much so, I would stop here. Leave it at the poem's end.

Great job!

Thanks Laurie for looking at this, but I do have to disagree about those lines. But I always appreciate your input.

I think I'll do a little explaining. This poem is about insecurity. The rope here is the idea of being secure, but that sense of security is wavering, swinging from side to side. And so these stanzas are not secure and cannot stay in one place. Until it all breaks. And there's nothing left to hold onto because Father has used all his power to destroy whatever sense of security was there before. Made all these promises of how the drugs, the sex, everything would lead to something grand. And it didn't.

As for those lines and others like it, it goes back to that security. Security in looking at everything as something beautiful to make it better, but then always having that voice saying, "But it's not. You can't hide forever." So I feel very strongly about those choices and what they're doing here.