Errands erroneous
Errands erroneous
[ o r i g i n a l p o e t r y ]{ by @d-pend }
[ { [ . ] } ]
[{[.]}]
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Errands erroneous
Wearing mesh armor,
I go misanthropically into chaos
(Excuse me, I misspoke,
I meant philanthropically,
of course.)
A planet of antique thoughtshards
rolls along the voidful pavement of sky
[pleasing formulae,
a stacked deck,
citrus inertia,
and a slowly accelerating guffaw]
An automaton, beehive peddler,
marring erratically the palace walls,
honeycomb kelp, nacre of starstuff,
into sleep's senseless bosom
(Excuse me,
I misspoke)
I fall headfirst.
Tomorrow I shall...
[snatches of familiar music
stretch impossibly]
wearing mesh armor.
Poetry by
@d-pend
9/7/18
.
Images by
.1 --- "Traffic Man" by a7md3mad
2 --- "Mesh In" by gracedoragon
3 --- "Nefertiti in Ice" by marijeberting
Very apt title for a poem. Understanding poetry may feel at times like running an errand erroneously.
And that's the first thing that came to my mind. There was this time when I was little, probably 5, and like any other child in my neighborhood I had to run errands, usually notes on a piece of paper if you were too small or slow; but if you were adventurous enough and could memorize the shopping list, then you were on your own. I thought I could do it and ventured to the bodega, repeating the litany of groceries in a silly chant, only to find out, when I was interrogated (for so it felt like) by the bodeguero, that I had forgotten quite a few items from the list.
The embarrassment was somehow mitigated by the man’s prodigious memory and knowledge of his clientele. He filled the voids and I was able to get home with most of the errand, lying about the missing items not being available.
Not sure that I can connect these dots, but that’s how poesy affects us sometimes (and I may be misspeaking).
I am intrigued by your choice of images for this poem. It’s a bit hard to make the connection, except for the fact that they all show contradictory elements of situations. Real meshes of sort (1. bizarre juxtaposition of order/neat suit and chaos; 2. A mesh-tree that looks like a net about to get in the water; 3. the ruler who imposed the veneration of the sun-god frozen).
Thus, this erroneous errands that language itself cannot clarify, get twisted in the very structure of the poem, which makes it look like a loop or a tangled double helix doomed to repeat itself, which in fact the poem does by starting with “wearing a mesh armor, I go misanthropically into chaos…” and ending with “Tomorrow I shall…[] wearing a mesh armor,” which we can assume is completed by the opening verse.
So, chaos, caused by a world “of antique thoughtshards/[that] rolls along the voidful pavement of sky” is central to the text. The playful misspeakings of the speaker suggest political correctness more than mere slips of the tongue. Are people to be loved or to be hated? I guess most people inspire relative amounts of disgust and contribute little to nothing to the welfare of the world, while demanding the full enjoyment of its perks.
But what is the mesh armor the speaker talks about? What is his/her crusade? Automaton is key word to answer this question. The armor may be not so much to fight as to protect oneself from conformity from entanglement, from getting lost in the intricacies of beehive structures and falling headfirst “into sleep’s senseless bosom.” And try all over again...
What a commentary! Your ability to dig into anything, even the absurd, is prodigious. Many times in your comments I have been shown elements of the subconscious impulses that lead to the creation of a piece, of which I was not aware. Perhaps this is because, oftentimes, I am in something of a state of channeling when writing, attending dutifully to what needs to be expressed without attempting to comprehend why.
Your detailed exploration causes me once again to reflect on the autonomy a poem acquires after its conception. In poetry there is no question of ownership, no illusion of control. The subtle thought-feeling structures that stimulate its conception settle somewhat, are transmuted. Then, the piece attains to its adolescence, where readers are allowed their own interfacing with the piece, changing its etheric imprint. Finally after some time, a poem attains to its own enlightenment, seeing clearly its own flawed majesty against the backdrop of infinity.
Thank you very much for your generous comment. I think that when the text is challenging and compelling and the readers has a certain compulsion to understand what is attractive and yet confusing, then the act of interpretation takes place.
I know for a fact that interpretations may go wild in directions never intended by the writers, but it is also the case, as you acknowledge it, that often times we focus our attention in the creative aspect of the piece and some subconscious/repressed/contrived elements find their way into the readers' mind, precisely because the focus of attention changesor is simply absent.
In any case, it is always an amazing experience to interact with your work. It is something that i enjoy tremendously, and which you have generously encouranged.
The line of the erratic is drawn in the air during the autumn and then freezes waiting to be reborn. Proud and majestic, like Nefertiti, the beauty of nature sleeps the dream agreed to strengthen and re-populate everything green, when the season of the explosion of colors wakes her up. Meanwhile, she shelters and weaves her most glorious dresses for her next spring party, wintering is just a necessary break. Each season has its own charm and way of influencing living beings and autumn, although it reflects the end of a cycle in many aspects, it can also be considered a beginning because it holds the promise of greening. Although everything looks brown and skeletal, to the point of entangling the sky and emotions, in truth, the wisdom prevails that it is fleeting and finite, because other times are coming.
Therefore, the station is not an error, if not is a necessary step.
LOL .. very funny poems thank you for the corrections haha .. you have a very good imagination, I never would have happened to do these ..
I'm glad you found it humorous, my friend. Sometimes my mind sinks into the absurd as quicksand!
@joelgonz1982
The same thing has happened to me, too.
It's good to see your real face in your profile I thought you were an old wise lover of poetry
Thank you for being a member and supporter of the creativebot.
Enjoy your day and stay creative!
Keep Steeming on!! <3
When I was a school going boy then I read the one couplet of very famous Urdu Poet Ghalib. My Teacher told me, Poetry is that beautiful art in which poet conveys the message by using the perfect vocabulary.
When I see your poetry blogs, I feel the perfection of every single thing that the art of poetry demands. Thanks alot for this amazing poem Bro <3
Your poetry has unique wording. Just upvoted it.
Thank you @coolguy222 :-)
Poetry is a feeling of emotions and imagination. in poetry poets expresses his emotions expression and other things around his that make a great effect on his life. for creation poetry the poet have to maintain his inner soul and meditation. without these particular things poetry does not comes in existence.
Regards to @de-pend God father.🎵🎵
I appreciate your unique form of poltergeist (excuse me. I meant apologetics)
I haven't thunk of any excuse for our generation yet.
Good night. Don't let the propolis bite.
hola @d-pend excelente poesía y muy emotivas tus fotos sigue trabajando
As always in your post @d-pend good poetic writing and life logic framed in beautiful photographs that complement a whole (sorry I'm wrong that's why I follow you hahaha thanks for sharing is still working)