Varieties of Indecision

[davinox]

Varieties of Indecision

1.
I have bargained for a mundane life of basic happiness and struggle.
I was given the option of living like a madman or god,
But because I did not make a decision, the decision, wisely, retreated,
Wanting only the unwavering, demanding extraordinary sacrifice,
Passing over the land of men like clouds in the storm,
Rarely, if ever, finding its conclusion with brilliant violence.

2.
Fuck! The boisterous crowd of me,
once committee and once republic,
in the aftermath of a single decision
now riots in the public square.
Someone cries within me:
"Give me the power of a single human being!"
Then, at last, my word would be
like a palm pressing against a torch,
my will would be a signature
among many others in the contract of time.

3.
After my stern declaration I have returned to old ways.
My commitment it seems had been merely political.
How wise it was to promise that things would change!
How ingenious a preservation tactic: to simulate death!
Nothing changes, nothing improves, nothing progresses.
Everything adapts, hides, schemes, conceals, fools.
What happens, moving forward and then retreating,
In the cowardice of all these years, could be called erosion.
From erosionem, "a gnawing away." God created us,
For what? Not to love. To eat us, to chew us.

[tectak]

Varieties of Indecision
Hi dav,
I was tempted to go with an overview of this as it seems like a confident piece. As is my habit, I read it out loud. Things came to mind.
Best
tectak
1.
I have bargained for a mundane life of basic happiness and struggle.
I was given the option of living like a madman or god,
But because I did not make a decision, the decision, wisely, retreated, You seriously over punctuate. This, combined with the retro capitalising of every line, makes for lumpy prose...and that is what this is. More wordy than worthy start and getting unstable very quickly. See next line.
Wanting only the unwavering, demanding extraordinary sacrifice, This is just too verbose. After this many commas the sense fails. Too much abstraction. Wanting only the unwavering? "Demanding extraordinary sacrifice" is thankfully an understood cliche...that helps.
Passing over the land of men like clouds in the storm, "land of men" you will say, is clear enough...but then you shoot an elephant in your pyjamas. The obscurity is compounded by that indefinite "its", last line. What is "it"? You have not said. You THINK you have, but drowning in your own alphabet soup you are not unsurprisingly preoccupied...as a result, the last line becomes just more words. Disconnected.
Rarely, if ever, finding its conclusion with brilliant violence.

2.
Fuck! The boisterous crowd of me, Oh, please! I like a good fuck as well as the next man but this is far too Tourette. Getta' betta' word. Fuck is becoming a "look at me" line start. You are better than this...god or madman.
once committee and once republic,
in the aftermath of a single decision
now riots in the public square. I like the progression in this stanza very much indeed. It is promising a tumult to come. We shall see
Someone cries within me:
"Give me the power of a single human being!" Yes!
Then, at last, my word would be
like a palm pressing against a torch, semi colon would be nice here
my will would be a signature
among many others in the contract of time. I do not fully understand the conjecture in this. It reads better than it communicates...like that last comment. Do YOU see what I mean?

3.
After my stern declaration I have returned to old ways.
My commitment it seems had been merely political. Comma feast and famine makes you appear random "...commitment, it seems, had..."
How wise it was to promise that things would change!
How ingenious a preservation tactic: to simulate death!
Nothing changes, nothing improves, nothing progresses. "Nothing changes" is a trump. After that, the cards are throw-aways. Finesse the trump.
Everything adapts, hides, schemes, conceals, fools.
What happens, moving forward and then retreating,
In the cowardice of all these years, could be called erosion. This line is good enough...why spoil it with the pretentious next.?
From erosionem, "a gnawing away." God created us,
For what? Not to love. To eat us, to chew us.

The end is marred by the reference. What is it there for? Shome mishtake, shurely?
Best,
tectak

[Apophrades]

This is a good piece. The metaphors for indecision are evocative; the second section is your most lucid. As for your title, the triptych is more than just "variety" try finding some significance in the number, and replace "varieties".

I enjoyed this, Thanks.

Varieties of Indecision

1.
I have bargained for a mundane life of basic happiness and struggle. Mundane or Basic, there is no need for both. Choose one. Or do you have to be undecided?
I was given the option of living like a madman or god,
But because I did not make a decision, the decision, wisely, retreated, Try: "the decision wisely retreated,"
Wanting only the unwavering, demanding extraordinary sacrifice,
Passing over the land of men like clouds in the storm,
Rarely, if ever, finding its conclusion with brilliant violence. Excellent metaphor.

2.
Fuck! The boisterous crowd of me, Sorry, "Fuck" Doesn't work for me. The tone is jarring.
once committee and once republic, Try: "At once, committee and republic"
in the aftermath of a single decision
now riots in the public square.
Someone cries within me:
"Give me the power of a single human being!"
Then, at last, my word would be
like a palm pressing against a torch,
my will would be a signature
among many others in the contract of time. "Contracts" would make more sense.

3.
After my stern declaration I have returned to old ways.
My commitment it seems had been merely political.
How wise it was to promise that things would change!
How ingenious a preservation tactic: to simulate death!
Nothing changes, nothing improves, nothing progresses. Changes, improves, progresses are all synonymous, but their slight differences tell me nothing
Everything adapts, hides, schemes, conceals, fools. Same.
What happens, moving forward and then retreating, Try putting a colon after "What happens" so that it makes grammatical sense, otherwise you would have to put a question mark after "erosion".
In the cowardice of all these years, could be called erosion.
From erosionem, "a gnawing away." God created us,
For what? Not to love. To eat us, to chew us. This is actually quite nihilistic. I like it.

You repeat yourself a lot, I think, to achieve a sense of rhythmic profundity, but you should try tightening this piece up.

[ChristopherSea]

There are some great lines and ideas in this poem that I like. I see your device herein as a political/existential monolog. With this style of piece, you have to watch the tendency towards diatribe for the reader. Perhaps you can reduce some repetition and then try to link the three stanzas with tansitional lines rather than the numbering. In the first stanza, the combination of commas and 'if's 'or's & 'and's was a bit much, similarly in the final stanza, there were too many commas and listing. 'Passing over the land of men like clouds in the storm' is a great line, image and metaphor. The F-word has never worked in a poem for me, they are never effective at showing anger, angst, frustration, whatever. They don't add street cred, just distraction in my humble opinion. This poetry is too smart for it and therefore it sticks out like a sore thumb for me. It actually weakened the good line, 'The boisterous crowd of me', to the point that I actually breezed over it. The close is potent, poignant and clever, but the sentence structure may need adjusting. Maybe just a full stop with a question mark (see what you think):

What happens, moving forward and then retreating,
in the cowardice of all these years? It could be called erosion
from erosionem, "a gnawing away." God created us,
for what? Not to love. To eat us, to chew us.

There's some real intelligence here and some brevity in the next editing may help the poem. Thanks for sharing your work!/Chris

[btrudo]

Varieties of Indecision

1.
I have bargained for a mundane life of basic happiness and struggle.
I was given the option of living like a madman or god,
But because I did not make a decision, the decision, wisely, retreated,
I very much like the use of the comma around wisely for the pacing
Wanting only the unwavering, demanding extraordinary sacrifice,
This is the line I just don't see.
Passing over the land of men like clouds in the storm,
Rarely, if ever, finding its conclusion with brilliant violence.
Nice two lines, however, this is probably where has its most opportunity to explore. You have this threat of rain. It would be nice if the poem made more use of its metaphors. Particularly when you have erosion in the last stanza. I would make use of the water.

2.
Fuck! The boisterous crowd of me,
Fuck seems to be the right jarring word. It also helps sets a more lighthearted tone here.
once committee and once republic,
The implication is that me wasn't a committee and republic at the same time. I like it as is, but again this is really an opportunity for the poem to explore this further. Right now, it reads nicely, but doesn't offer another dimension.
in the aftermath of a single decision
now riots in the public square.
Someone cries within me:
"Give me the power of a single human being!"
I wonder if this could be phrased better
Then, at last, my word would be
like a palm pressing against a torch,
my will would be a signature
among many others in the contract of time.
contract...meaning we all sign the SAME contract

3.
After my stern declaration I have returned to old ways.
My commitment it seems had been merely political.
How wise it was to promise that things would change!
I wonder about the repetition of change here and then 2 lines down
How ingenious a preservation tactic: to simulate death!
I see no previous indication of death, so the poem doesn't seem to earn this line
Nothing changes, nothing improves, nothing progresses.
Everything adapts, hides, schemes, conceals, fools.
These two lines work actually for the very reason that some of the commentators complain about
What happens, moving forward and then retreating,
In the cowardice of all these years, could be called erosion.
From erosionem, "a gnawing away." God created us,
For what? Not to love. To eat us, to chew us.
I really like the final 6 lines, though the moving forward and then retreating doesn't quite fit 'erosion'.

Overall, I think this works, though as I mentioned throughout, I think this poem could get its individual metaphors and images to work together more.