The Catharsis of Rage

[heslopian]

I am Evil. Hurling from the dawn of man my arrowheads, my blunted knives,
my early years my dark excuse, I wallow, bathe in misery;
I've built my spa with stolen bones; your graves lie empty as old shoes.
To rage and scream on grassy hills, to bellow at the awkward sky,
a pickled fetus, stillborn, blue, is what sustains my dying soul,
that withers from the love of those who seek to cure my ailing heart,
to cover it in bandages, play rainbows on eternal loop.

[Leanne]

Jack, I haven't much time but something very odd struck me about this piece -- do you realise that up until the last two lines you have absolutely meter-perfect blank verse? The feet vary but the rhythm is excellent. If you'd like to follow that pattern, I'll focus on the last two lines when I come back and you'll have a great long-line verse.

[heslopian]

No, I was completely unaware that this poem adhered to form at all. Like much of my work I just played it by ear. I would like to follow that pattern though for when you have some free time

[addy]

I love the fury in this piece, coupled with a... sadness? It strikes me very much like a raging id, forceful but in a way a little pathetic. It's an interesting take.

[Leanne]

'Tis not so much form, as style. I always think that if it can be made metric in some way, it's lots prettier Long lines are underused, in my opinion, as they soften the meter/rhyme chiming effect.

I am Evil. Hurling from the dawn of man my arrowheads, my blunted knives,
my early years my dark excuse, I wallow, bathe in misery;
I've built my spa with stolen bones; your graves lie empty as old shoes.
To rage and scream on grassy hills, to bellow at the awkward sky,
a pickled fetus, stillborn, blue, is what sustains my dying soul,
that withers from the love of those who seek to cure my ailing heart,
to cover it in bandages, play rainbows on eternal loop.

Something along those lines? Apart from the first line, which starts with an anapaest, the whole thing is iambic octameter now.

[heslopian]

I love your alternative closing couplet. Very purdy I'll make the edit once I've finished this. The long lines were inspired by Whitman. I've been re-reading his Leaves of Grass, and am finding I like it more in solitude than under tutelage.

[Leanne]

Leaves of Grass is definitely inspiring -- but some texts should never pass through the heavy hands of English teachers.

[heslopian]

Well this was the American lit. teacher who told us that postmodernism is pretentious drivel. He also encouraged us to read Henry James, which in my book is a death sentence to any credibility
Thanks for your kind words Addy The content of the poem was inspired by this passage from the Sarah Kane play 4.48 Psychosis:

"I gassed the Jews, I killed the Kurds, I bombed the Arabs, I fucked small children while they begged for mercy, the killing fields are mine, everyone left the party because of me, I'll suck your fucking eyes out sent them to your mother in a box and when I die I'm going to be reincarnated as your child only fifty times worse and as mad as all fuck I'm going to make your life a living fucking hell I REFUSE I REFUSE I REFUSE LOOK AWAY FROM ME"

[Leanne]

Any moron who puts postmodernism in a single box is totally missing the point, since postmodernism is all about removing the boxes, labels and straight lines of modernity. What knobs you have had teaching you. You should run them over.

[heslopian]

Only the one knob Sounds like I'm ordering at a glory hole My other teachers were okay. I must say I'm glad I've discovered Leaves of Grass afresh. I've started reading the Calamus section. I remember the other students in my class sniggering about it, though as at the time I'd decided to eschew all the writers on the course except Emily Dickinson for my first essay I knew not why.

[billy]

it feel sonnetesque without the rhyme.
good meter that allows it flow really well.
good blank verse as leanne pointed out.
i also like the feel of rage as an entity.
an enema for the kind, you are the weapon
of destruction. well not you personally of course .

thanks for the read.

[heslopian]

Thanks for the kind words Billy

[critical mass]

I am Evil. Hurling from the dawn of man my arrowheads, my blunted knives,
my early years my dark excuse, I wallow, bathe in misery;
I've built my spa with stolen bones; your graves lie empty as old shoes.
To rage and scream on grassy hills, to bellow at the awkward sky,
a pickled fetus, stillborn, blue, is what sustains my dying soul,
that withers from the love of those who seek to cure my ailing heart,
to cover it in bandages, play rainbows on eternal loop.

This is good stuff. Won't comment on the meter cause ai suck at it.
old shoes is out of place with graves, not a good fit to me.
other than that I like it.

David

[heslopian]

Thanks for the feedback and kind words David

[ckeo]

I enjoyed reading this.
It would have been complete for me after "dying soul" the last two lines somehow seemed like an after thought.
I have always avoided writing in the first person myself because I could never pull it off but you did it well.

[heslopian]

Thanks for the feedback