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A Sunday Drive
| Critical Analysis #2 |
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A Sunday Drive |
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UseTheIllusion Member
since 2006-02-06
Posts 223In a state of limbo |
I saw a homeless man begging for a lottery ticket, I saw a human being burdened by old age’s advance, I have seen lives end and graduations commence, I have seen the graduates hop the fence, and become adult delinquents, Succumbing to drug abuse, popping pills with frequency, Pumping stuff into their veins like they were starving, I’ve seen apartments that look like Moroccan fortresses, Hardened hearts like Bunker Hill, casualties of war like Black Forests, And what’s more I am still young, not yet a victim of society, But with all that I have seen, how can I work faith into the scheme? I don’t really want to give up on the American dream, I don’t want to care, like the drug addict fiends for the things that death brings. I have seen men slave for their own device, I have seen men work until their own demise, I have seen men who are despised, I have seen men on pedestals, Pedantic until the end, Cracking non-existent codes, Wasting their souls in an Earthly Sheol, Never knowing any better, That they could be something more. I have seen men run slave ships from the tops of high-rises, I have seen men run shifts which would kill even the strongest, I have seen men cooked up like frying pans with frogs, I have seen men treated like subservient dogs, The dehumanization of mans best friend is complete, A piece of our nature inherent to our well being perhaps, But what’s lacking in this cruel world we live in, Is a laxative to purge all of the filth and the sin. I cannot ignore the fact that our minds are filled with plaque, Victims of our own deviations, I hear god let out a sigh, He gave us free will, and with it we got high, Shackled by devotion to our own vice, Running the wheel like three blind mice, The trinity of man, what makes us unique? I would like to think thumbs, free will and speech, The former may be within reach and the latter we take for granted, The middle child, running wild, glistens its eyes with laughter, It lives independently of constraint, operates without restraint, And yet is bound by the laws cooked up by the so called “saints”, Martyrs to the cause, there is no denying that, But the cause is obsolete, a new paradigm shifting the facts, It’s like Tetris, can you make the pieces fit? Me, I am leaning towards buying a new Cadillac. [This message has been edited by UseTheIllusion (01-28-2007 10:05 PM).] |
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UseTheIllusion Member
since 2006-02-06
Posts 223In a state of limbo |
I can deduce two things from the lack of responses to this: 1. It is perfect, no editing required. or 2. It is such absolute crap that no one will even bother with it. I would be worried if it is the latter, and even more worried if it is the former. |
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rhia_5779 Senior Member
since 2006-06-09
Posts 1334California |
It may just be me from having a headache from my two creative stories I have to write for english next week and the creative letter for Social studies and science poster on Crude oil its too complicated. Try writing it more simple. I think with some of your stuff you get so into the intricacy the idea is lost. What did you mean to say with this poem? |
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UseTheIllusion Member
since 2006-02-06
Posts 223In a state of limbo |
Thanks for reading Rhia. I suppose I did get carried away with this one, and a lot of other work I have been doing lately. To sum it up, I would just call it "observations based on my own experience" (with a little musing and deduction thrown in). The only real continuity in the piece, or closure linking the beginning to the conclusion is the fact that I am observing what I see when I drive or am walking (at the beginning) and then end the piece on a lighter note, going back to the drive theme. In between is just ideas I have had mixed with some stream of conscioussness rambling. If I am not mistaken, you are 13, so (not to be insulting, and if you percieve it that way, I apologize) perhaps that is the reason some of this got over your head. |
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rhia_5779 Senior Member
since 2006-06-09
Posts 1334California |
Trying hard not to be insulted and kinda succeeding but I understood it just not what you meant by the poem because very little in this connects it all to each other. But It would be nice to read something a little simpler than this with maybe as meaningful theme but less complicated would be nice from you. |
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UseTheIllusion Member
since 2006-02-06
Posts 223In a state of limbo |
Here is something a bit more straightforward. If you don't know what postmodernism is, than wikipedia it. I call this one "Postmodern Blues". Time was that knowledge was attainable, It’s a shame, now, that there is so much afloat, Like so much flotsam riding the waves, And when you try to grab it, you feel a pain in your throat. When you feel the thirst, there is so much to drink, When you get hungry, there is so much to eat, When you are tired, there is no getting sleep, There is a whole world out there, so many people to meet. Yet I lament the fact that there is a pop-society, Built on the basis of collective knowledge propriety, Property is sacred, held dear to the heart, Destroy it all, that would make a good start, A compromise between a paradox contradiction, The meta-narrative is just another fiction. “We will assign you this copy, don’t let it stray from your sight,” Doppelgangers haunting me all through the night, There are so many copies, which one is real, Is it possible that they ALL are real? It makes me feel nauseous, this vertigo thought, That all my life has been naught, Nothing is sacred, there for is no truth, It is all relative; it is all up to you, You could do nothing at all when there is nothing to do, And that is what makes me sing the blues. “Deconstruct this thought, this feeling that you love,” And with that I am shoved into a hollow alcove, With a desk, some pens, a printer and a computer, I am but a machine of man, a mere logic dealer, The cards may be on the table but there is no one who wants to play, At least that is my rationale for being alone, or maybe I am just crazy, A rebel without a cause in a world gone berserk, A clerk with a sword, an electronic nervous jerk, On the keyboard, faxing my thought over the power-net, I may have opened the door, but it is up you to walk on through. |
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