Noon of Life

[rowens]

I am my own Authority, and I denounce Authority.
I'm scared, insecure, intimidated, longing, insulting,
I'm harsh and caustic, egotistical, narcissistic,
              lecherous, savage, strange,
I'm vicious, uncouth, unkempt, solitary,
I'm not envious but satirical, I'm not jealous
             but lustful,
I'm alone and I'm alive and I'm proud.
             GLADNESS

[Tiger the Lion]

I am my own Authority, and I denounce Authority.
I'm scared, insecure, intimidated, longing, insulting,
I'm harsh and caustic, egotistical, narcissistic,
              lecherous, savage, strange,
I'm vicious, uncouth, unkempt, solitary,
I'm not envious but satirical, I'm not jealous
             but lustful,
I'm alone and I'm alive and I'm proud.
             GLADNESS

It's all going along great until "I'm alone..." 
for me "alone" connotates too heavily as victim and sadly ends an otherwise strong poem the way a woe -is -me slam poem might end. 
Just my take. Alone feels generic and meme-ish. I would prefer you were terrified or hysterical. I know I am. 

[Mark A Becker]

Hey owens,

You wrote, "I'm alone and I'm alive and I'm proud."

That statement reminds me just how glad I am to have people in my life in whom I can trust.  I'm very well aware of my aloneness, which is why I seek out these other people.

The all caps may as well read "LONELINESS", as that would be more appropriate in this piece:  all of the previous adjectives describe that. GLADNESS just doesn't seem as honest as the rest of the poem.

Anywho, you're really only as alone as you want to be.

HEY! I see you. SEE? Now you're not alone.

Peace be with you,
Mark

[TranquillityBase]

I don't read "alone" the way Tiger and Mark do.  I don't think the statement "I'm alone" is neccessarily a sad statement, especially in the context of this poem.

[Mark A Becker]

OK Tim, I take it as autobiographical, and rowens only seemed to write about his endearing qualities.

Hey rowens, I think you should include some of your bad traits, as well.

[rowens]

I'm alone, the things in the poem, or whatever people call these things these days, are what keep me alone.
GLADNESS is big, not as big as Joy and Delight, but those contexts are irrelevant here.

All these things mentioned are useful to me. They keep me awake and alive and driven. They're important for writing and adventuring. They're necessary Personal characteristics.

Everything is safe when it's in a category. Wild, untamed rudeness is crystalized to a plain shiny stone called a troll. Everybody knows what that is. It's easy to understand. It's tame. Make wildness into a terrorist, you've also tamed it. Evil is a neutering of lifeforce.

Categories maim. They circle around a few definitions. Pain is Romantic, but there's sappy Romantic. People around here listen to Comfortably Numb, and justify their weakness. Real raging Romance passes out in a hotel room after smashing it with joy. Cliched and loving it. 

If there are categories, they can be expanding categories. If I'm my own Authority, I get bored. If I'm humble, nothing happens. I could sit and be humble the rest of my life.
Meme magic is a strong cheap kind. It can call me a luddite or reactionary and be done with me. But the best magic has its heart in the past and its dick long into the wild future. The dick always points the direction. Balls roll.

Sadness can be enjoyed, and worshipping it is stupid.
If I insult you I'm inviting you to dance. If I'm afraid of you it means I love you or at least have great affection. It doesn't mean, just is.

I'm alone in the noon of life. Insulting, annihilating Victimhood and Victimizing alike. Fear and Loving are the same. Fear is fun. Insulting is fun, Dancing is fun. Sad songs and tragic heroes aren't tragic, they're cyclic addictions, keeping everybody proud of their humbleness. I'm proud, with no humbleness, and sad, with no resentment. No need for latching-on. One needn't come with the other. Someone can be raging with nonviolence and agonizing gladness.

  I'm alone in me. Amongst all the swirling contexts. Proud of all of it.

[Mark A Becker]

well, well, rowens, tell us how ya really feel.

I find it rather peculiar that your replies are much, much longer than your poems.

You have also done a great job at describing the life of a loner.

Like the saying goes: whatever is your pleasure, and if you don’t know than I can’t help you.

What is your pleasure? Perhaps a poem about that would be cool one day.

I do imagine it would be sort of interesting to talk with you in “the real world.”  Ya never know when that might happen...

Thanks for sharing,
Mark

[rowens]

In real life, I'm in a rural area, and if people want to talk to me, they have to take the trouble of getting to me. When I go places, I'm often intoxicated, and people can only handle so much of me. Or so they say. Yet they keep offering me more and more booze, so it's hard to tell.
Since it takes about five or ten minutes to write the poems I post on here, I have plenty of time to write replies.