the day the dream died

[REDWAVE]

the day the dream died


drowned in a river of blood
a sea of blue
fueled by a mountain of green
the corpse of freedom
was finally laid to rest today

no more the happy smiley face
no more "I feel your pain"
no more the velvet glove
now only the naked iron fist
the boot stomping on a human face
forever

Today I become an outlaw in the wilds of Amerika
Today I sit with the martyrs in the dungeons of D.C.
Today the debate is over, and the fight begins

-- September 27, 2002

 

[Rybka]

REDWAVE, What happened today to set you off?

Regards, Rybka

 

[REDWAVE]

News?

Don't you follow the news, fishy?

 

[Rybka]

Re: News?

Don't you follow the news, fishy?

I probably see more news than you do, but I must have missed what set you off today. Today seemed rather bland in terms of news.

Regards,                 Rybka

 

[REDWAVE]

DAMN!!!

 

[REDWAVE]

Please go here, Rybka

http://www.literotica.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=114743

 

[HomerPindar]

I don't tend to follow the news, I'm too easily depressed. And seeing as the IMF is one of those things I find so depressing ...

Were you in DC REDWAVE, or just watching the news?

HomerPindar

 

[REDWAVE]

Hey, Homie!

Cool new av. No, I wasn't there in person-- kinda glad I wasn't. I'm just following the news, mainly on the net, from a safe distance. The best source I've found is this one:

http://dc.indymedia.org

 

[WickedEve]

I read most of the thread on GB. First, you should hang here more often. We're nicer to you.
What I read was a lot to absorb. I can see that you're very troubled about what's going on. I'm glad you're using poetry as an outlet.

 

[Rybka]

Re: Please go here, Rybka

http://www.literotica.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=114743

O.K. I read your post, and several of the others. I was aware of a protest in Washington, D.C. - I am not aware of any police brutality or anybody being "drowned in a river of blood" by "a sea of blue".

If you don't like your right to bitch, complain, and protest in "Amerika", you are always free to go to some place else that you like better. Even then, with the WWW you can still post here.

All views are welcome, but agreement and conformity are not expected.

Regards,                 Rybka

 

[Senna Jawa]

the day the dream died


drowned in a river of blood
a sea of blue
fueled by a mountain of green
the corpse of freedom
was finally laid to rest today

no more the happy smiley face
no more "I feel your pain"
no more the velvet glove
now only the naked iron fist
the boot stomping on a human face
forever

Today I become an outlaw in the wilds of Amerika
Today I sit with the martyrs in the dungeons of D.C.
Today the debate is over, and the fight begins

-- September 27, 2002

In the beginning the text makes an attempt to associate itself with poetry. Of course the first line is as trite as they can be. The second, as one can easily guess, is a metaphor for massive police force (BTW, I had blue for police in my "San Jose" poem). The third one is a metaphor for dollars (again, I had "green buterflies" in my poems; other poets, with my encouragement, happily borrowed my green butterflies interest free). That's where the poetry ends in this text, a bit thin, too bad.

Lines 1-2 are confusing. They seem to say that a sea was drowned in a river, which would be a bungled image. It takes a special attention and good will to get the author's intention, namely that "the corpse" was drowned both in the river and in the sea. Well, the image is still bungled, even when the text is interpreted according to the author's intention. Such a double drowning just doesn't work, not poetically.

A sea fueled by a mountain is ironic. A sea, which is a lot of WATER, is not like any vehicle (car, airplane, rocket), it cannot be fueled. It is not going to travel to any destiny on any orbit, road, ... A poem should work on the most literal, basic level or else it is a kitsch. It is not enough that on the "higher level" we have police getting their monthly salaries (their "fuel"). The poem has to work on the image level.

All the rest of the text is not poetry but pure talk-talking, it is a string of generic cliches (equally applicable to most any political confrontation--how convenient, and how unpoetic) which make no pretense to be poetry. Why? -- it is propaganda and simplistic BS.

Regards,

 

[REDWAVE]

Eve

Thanks for your comments, everyone. Yes, Eve, people are much nicer here on the poetry board, as a general rule. I usually come here to play a little and take a break from the ideological war. ("The war against the war," so to speak.) Actually, when it comes to politics, I'm not bothered at all by anything negative anyone says about me. It comes with the territory. All political dissenters are subjected to a furious campaign of lies and slander by the lackeys and mouthpieces of the ruling class. Go back in history and look at all the furious denunciations of Martin Luther King, Jr. (who's now been made into a harmless icon) in newspaper editorials through out the country, for instance.

 

[Never]

Senna Jawa:
“A sea fueled by a mountain is ironic.”

I find it ironic that you misused the word ironic while informing Redwave that he misused the word fueled.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Senna Jawa:
“A sea fueled by a mountain is ironic.”

I find it ironic that you misused the word ironic while informing Redwave that he misused the word fueled.

My expression was a shortcut. (It's not important, so I will leave it at that).

 

[Never]

Senna Jawa:
"My expression was a shortcut."

Shortcuts are often a form of sloppiness. There’s nothing wrong with sloppiness in itself, however, if you’re criticizing a person’s poetry then it’s important to be precise.

 

[REDWAVE]

Never

Love your new av, Never. I saved it to my hard drive. The lines from "Sounds of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel are good too.

"And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they'd made . . ."

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Eve

Go back in history and look at all the furious denunciations of Martin Luther King, Jr. (who's now been made into a harmless icon) in newspaper editorials through out the country, for instance.

I have befriended for years (via Internet) a great man, who was a hero of the Warsaw Uprising, and who also have participated in the Martin Luter King's Civil Rights Movement, risking his life with other participants. Anyway, your views, Redwave, and King's are the two opposites. You are among the last persons to invoke Martin Luter King's name. It is not proper when you do.

Regards,

 

[Never]

REDWAVE:
"Love your new av, Never. I saved it to my hard drive. The lines from "Sounds of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel are good too.

"And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they'd made . . ."

Good to see you outside of the GB Redwave, I find people are too willing to draw lines and refuse to cross them there.

I find the contrast of colors, alabaster white and bloody lips framed by such an utter blackness, quite visually appealing. I’m thrilled that you enjoy it as well.

Might I ask how you interpret the song Radwave? I’ve always seen is as a sort of parable on how the individual aids society in robbing him, or her, of his own voice.

 

[REDWAVE]

Sounds of Silence: my view

Good question, Never. I'll start by posting the words of the song itself:

@SONG: The Sound of Silence (P. Simon, 1964)

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.


First, this has to be viewed in the whole context of the 1960's, and the social and political turmoil which took place then. "Darkness, my old friend": the poet is addressing is "dark" side of society, the underbelly, the counterculture. The "neon light" is the voice of authority, the dominant culture. The people "talking without speaking," etc. is people regurgitating without thinking the conventional wisdom which has been instilled in them by society. The poet/philosopher reaches out to the people and tries to educate them, but of course they do not listen. Perhaps the most important line is "Silence like a cancer grows." The "silence" of conformity and repression of dissent spreads like a cancer to engulf all of society.

"And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made."

How else can I interpret this but as referring to people worshipping the social institutions they've created, instead of realizing that those institutions are supposed to serve them, rather than vice versa? As Grace Slick said, "I'd rather have my country die for me."

Finally, the words are of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls-- i.e., grafitti. In other words, the truth is not to be found in the official pronouncements of the "experts" and "authorities," but rather in the scribbled words of resistance by the people, which they have to put wherever they can, since they are locked out of the "mainstream" channels of communication.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Sounds of Silence: my view

[...] I'll start by posting the words of the song itself:

@SONG: The Sound of Silence (P. Simon, 1964)

Many thanks for posting this classic.

[...]The "neon light" is the voice of authority, the dominant culture. [...]

        "And the people bowed and prayed
        To the neon god they made."

How else can I interpret this but as referring to people worshipping the social institutions they've created, instead of realizing that those institutions are supposed to serve them, rather than vice versa? As Grace Slick said, "I'd rather have my country die for me."

Finally, the words are of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls-- i.e., grafitti. In other words, the truth is not to be found in the official pronouncements of the "experts" and "authorities," but rather in the scribbled words of resistance by the people, which they have to put wherever they can, since they are locked out of the "mainstream" channels of communication.

Redwave, your interpretation is interesting but you missed the critical moment, which invalidates your take on the poem/song. Observe that it was the very neon sign that flashed those words about graffiti.

The poem is much more profound and subtle than a picture of a simplistic conflict "we versus they".

This song, like true poetry often does, transcends its time. It is no more about the sixties than about any other time in the human history. Certainly, there is no reference in the poem which would place it in the sixties. Sure, the fact that we, who lived through those years, know that the song was written by Paul Simon in 1964, makes it to us more special, more interesting. And that's all.

Ok, Redwave, now open your mind and try again! Give us an interpretation which will hold water.

Best regards, good luck,

 

[Suzi]

Re: Re: the day the dream died

In the beginning the text makes an attempt to associate itself with poetry. Of course the first line is as trite as they can be. The second, as one can easily guess, is a metaphor for massive police force (BTW, I had blue for police in my "San Jose" poem). The third one is a metaphor for dollars (again, I had "green buterflies" in my poems; other poets, with my encouragement, happily borrowed my green butterflies interest free). That's where the poetry ends in this text, a bit thin, too bad.

Lines 1-2 are confusing. They seem to say that a sea was drowned in a river, which would be a bungled image. It takes a special attention and good will to get the author's intention, namely that "the corpse" was drowned both in the river and in the sea. Well, the image is still bungled, even when the text is interpreted according to the author's intention. Such a double drowning just doesn't work, not poetically.

A sea fueled by a mountain is ironic. A sea, which is a lot of WATER, is not like any vehicle (car, airplane, rocket), it cannot be fueled. It is not going to travel to any destiny on any orbit, road, ... A poem should work on the most literal, basic level or else it is a kitsch. It is not enough that on the "higher level" we have police getting their monthly salaries (their "fuel"). The poem has to work on the image level.

All the rest of the text is not poetry but pure talk-talking, it is a string of generic cliches (equally applicable to most any political confrontation--how convenient, and how unpoetic) which make no pretense to be poetry. Why? -- it is propaganda and simplistic BS.

Regards,

You insensitive lout! I really don't think he cares that much how good it is or about the triteness or the f------ propaganda...He was venting his feelings in a way that felt appropriate to him! And here you are tearing it apart! Go to a college and teach creative writing....surely they can utilize your criticisms there! but putting down someone's efforts....when they are just letting it out...that is just mean.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Re: Re: the day the dream died

You insensitive lout! [...]

Suzi, I warn you: you call me names one more time and I will analyze every and each of your poems to death

Didn't they teach you to act in a civilized, polite manner? Can't you express your views without personal, primitive invectives?

Well, actually it is cleaner this way than when done in "white" gloves, by dirty hands and minds.

Relax, Suzi, peace

 

[Suzi]

Well you know what??

Suzi, I warn you: you call me names one more time and I will analyze every and each of your poems to death

<<<I don't CARE if you analyze my poetry----because I KNOW what I have written. I know my worth! You, sir, do not, because you consistently criticize everyone else. I would like to see you analyze your OWN poetry!>>>

Didn't they teach you to act in a civilized, polite manner? Can't you express your views without personal, primitive invectives?

<<<If by "they" you are implying my parents, yes, they did. They also instilled in me a sense of fairness and empathy. They taught me how to stand up for people who might be on the short end of the stick (to borrow a trite cliche). As for "personal, primitive invectives" I call them as I see them. Can't you make a post without cutting someone's poetry to shreds? >>>

Well, actually it is cleaner this way than when done in "white" gloves, by dirty hands and minds.

<<<I would prefer such a discussion to take place in person, because I can get a better "feel" of what the other person is about. For instance, you use the smiley face alot, but I know you are hardly smilling...You are as irked at my name-calling as I am by your criticisms of any and all poetry BUT your own.>>>

Relax, Suzi, peace

Pax vabiscum, Senna :rolleyes

 

[Senna Jawa]

Senna Jawa:
"My expression was a shortcut."

Shortcuts are often a form of sloppiness. There’s nothing wrong with sloppiness in itself, however, if you’re criticizing a person’s poetry then it’s important to be precise.

This time it was not sloppiness. It was just a precise, functional shortcut, adequate to the situation. BTW, nothing good about sloppiness.

 

[karmadog]

I tend to stay away from the GB, REDWAVE. After reading the thread link you provided, I remember why.

I don't necessarily agree with your politics, but it doesn't seem productive to simply insult those who disagree with me. If I did, I would be Don Rickles.