Town and Country blues Edit 1.00000001 wjames, river, dale,nikki

[tectak]

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky; There are two different 'you's in your poem it seems - the government, and a woman. It's a little confusing.
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try I'm puzzled by 'look through fret'
and try to see what you see here. Who is this 'you'?
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh great imagery!
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied, Who is this 'you'?
then slumps like mortar on my heart.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust 'We' must be you and I, so who is the 'you'?
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain. lovely
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife; not sure about 'common strife'
for what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.



I have the image of a soldier in Vietnam, for some reason, in the paddies. I'm confused at just who he's angry at/with - his government or his girl? I think the repetend or refrain is very effective - also affective.

tectak
2016  

Original

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop--
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied,
then sits like stone upon my heart.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife;
but what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016

Sincere thanks for trying, merc. I don't do complicated. This was just an experiment (which I enjoyed imensely) to write a piece expressing a diametrically opposite opinion to what I actually hold...in other words, to get some distance between me and the character. It is not easy. We have just moved out to the coast (well, close if you are American or Australian being 12 miles or so.) and so have gone from small town to very small rural village. I love it here....but not everyone likes the countryside. This is one written from that character's perspective. A number of comments referred to "fret". We get fret. Shipped out here...shipped, sea, sea-fret. That is all. Aw, the hell with it.
Thanks again,
Best,
tectak

---

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky; what foreign sky? It might read better: "beneath a foreign sky"
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try I'm not sure what "look through fret" means either.
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain. I like the core of this, but there's a little padding, like "my every stride", "my very walk".
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied, I like these two lines, it reads like a Dylan lyric, I say it with that snarl.
then slumps like mortar on my heart.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife; "within the common strife" sounds off to me as well.
for what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain. "the truth of what we have" is a strange expression.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016  

There's some real nice images here, and I like the refrain.  I'm also having trouble figuring out who "you" is as well. In the second stanza it certainly seems to be a lover. In the first stanza, it's more ambiguous, but it does make me think of a country sending out a soldier to war, especially the first line. Perhaps the women broke up with the narrator, and "shipped him out" however. There's enough things to think about that even though I can't quite fit them all in to one, I still enjoyed the poem.

Hi wjam,
you make good and questioning observations which I hope I explained away in reply to mercedes. However, explanations ARE a cop out. I know all of us write in riddles sometimes and some of us at all times but I try not to fit in to either group. Here, I have not given enough information in the piece to tie the thing together. "common strife" is a phrase I came across years ago in a piece by Wordsworth. Though he used the term, it was not uniquely his...nothing is new...so I felt justified in using it as my own; a bit like "...a strange expression"
you are right about the weakness of the padding in "very walk"it will go.
Best,
tectak