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Puppet Hyena
Contributed by
assassinatorgirl
on
Monday, 2nd January 2006 @ 12:15:25 PM in AEST
Topic:
DarkPoetry
|
Entangled in a net of slimy wires,
Thin strings pull my wrists and arms.
Make me dance, What's wrong with that?
eyes of wine and hair of yarn,
off to the pig-house where others sat,
waiting to be slaughtered each Sunday,
dreaming to die without any hate.
But what stays, and what leaves,
Has a very thin line.
We aren't allowed to see
because we'd lose our right to be alive.
Hung in suspension,
in a pond of retention,
Reeking of acid,
we ache in our elastic.
Us who are not real,
feel more than anyone else.
We who have no soul,
Have more emotion than ever.
Watch and learn,
Know there's nothing left.
Knobby elbows turn,
And we continue to dance.
Copyright ©
assassinatorgirl
... [
2006-01-02 12:15:25]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Puppet Hyena
(User Rating: 1 )
by Hautebush on
Saturday, 8th April 2006 @ 12:33:44 AM AEST
(User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Hey there Agirl,
How nice of you to comment on a couple of my poems. Thank you. Anyway, I wanted to read more of yours. I picked this one it had a large readership but no comments. I am happy to be the first. As in Quintessence I see that dancing is a motif for you. I dig this as dancing is freedom. Yet here the hyena is a puppet dancing to someone elses direction. An unfair way to dance. I'm guessing the pig house is church? A Sunday place of slaughter? Why are these thin lines slimy? Why is this hyena not real and why has the hyena no soul? Yet the puppet hyena feels deeply "more emotion than ever." Also, hands or wrists are vivid in your poetry. A Christ like image or perhaps a misanthropic suicidal one. This poem presents a dark view of what's happening in life perhaps. Is there no way to escape? Your poems make me think! This is a very good thing. Hauebush |
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