Flaws Before Findings

[Deor Ana Log]

Standers eyeing in after, from windows outside
Find it's impossible to window unlock
Yet easy to open the floodgate of the "died"
Passing time morphs into a broken clock
They are in countless ways more radicalized
Than inside fighters who circumstance-survived
Observers extent is bound by external scars
Never the causes and chaos within walls of pain
Seeping through future survivors squalor
Spent in prized pen, receding rose, double dollars
First punch, final blow, villain, foe
Aren’t inscribed on the blood and bones
Only on the ones who were drowned,
Funneled within fire and will now go
Trailing lost words scent; that sacred stab wound
Suiting up into out-livers somehow claiming victory
Until the deadbed, refusing to admit they are
Just as flawed as the fallen
Coming up again again again
A scab floats in a sea of pain
We are left with a single enduring belief
That our flaws are fatal, final, forged
The string connecting life's bead
And what saved "mighty" me before

[the_bellman]

I think this poem delivers its message quite clearly. I have to admit I needed to read it a few times before I could fully grasp it, but looking at it again now, I find it impressive how many lines are precise and add to the overall understanding.
I wish it approached death and survival less directly. I always find that tackling these topics from more of a distance ultimately creates a bigger impact.

[tun]

Standers eyeing in after, from windows outside
Find it's impossible to window unlock
Yet easy to open the floodgate of the "died"
Passing time morphs into a broken clock
They are in countless ways more radicalized
Than inside fighters who circumstance-survived
Observers extent is bound by external scars
Never the causes and chaos within walls of pain
Seeping through future survivors squalor
Spent in prized pen, receding rose, double dollars
First punch, final blow, villain, foe
Aren’t inscribed on the blood and bones
Only on the ones who were drowned,
Funneled within fire and will now go
Trailing lost words scent; that sacred stab wound
Suiting up into out-livers somehow claiming victory
Until the deadbed, refusing to admit they are
Just as flawed as the fallen
Coming up again again again
A scab floats in a sea of pain
We are left with a single enduring belief
That our flaws are fatal, final, forged
The string connecting life's bead
And what saved "mighty" me before

I cannot understand what this poem is saying at all. I asked Chat GPT to tell me what it is about? And I got the feeling that it was pretending to know. What it told me did not feel familiar or convincing. The language seems to be intentionally obscure and not to be representing the intended meaning in the most efficient and economical way possible - but really this poem seems to in a sense - project an 'anti-clarity'. But this 'anti-clarity' does not appear to have been done for satirical reasons. If it has been done for aesthetic reasons - the aesthetic is not evident to me?


''Standers eyeing in after, from windows outside
Find it's impossible to window unlock
Yet easy to open the floodgate of the "died"
Passing time morphs into a broken clock''

I don't know what this is saying - in the sense that I cannot rephrase it into anything meaningful to me.

I mean is the poem saying something like;

Some people are alive
some people are dead
the dead know what it is like to die
the living do not
since death is the only real suffering
nobody will suffer until they meet their end
everybody will die eventually?

[Deor Ana Log]

Standers eyeing in after, from windows outside
Find it's impossible to window unlock
Yet easy to open the floodgate of the "died"
Passing time morphs into a broken clock
They are in countless ways more radicalized
Than inside fighters who circumstance-survived
Observers extent is bound by external scars
Never the causes and chaos within walls of pain
Seeping through future survivors squalor
Spent in prized pen, receding rose, double dollars
First punch, final blow, villain, foe
Aren’t inscribed on the blood and bones
Only on the ones who were drowned,
Funneled within fire and will now go
Trailing lost words scent; that sacred stab wound
Suiting up into out-livers somehow claiming victory
Until the deadbed, refusing to admit they are
Just as flawed as the fallen
Coming up again again again
A scab floats in a sea of pain
We are left with a single enduring belief
That our flaws are fatal, final, forged
The string connecting life's bead
And what saved "mighty" me before

I cannot understand what this poem is saying at all. I asked Chat GPT to tell me what it is about? And I got the feeling that it was pretending to know. What it told me did not feel familiar or convincing. The language seems to be intentionally obscure and not to be representing the intended meaning in the most efficient and economical way possible - but really this poem seems to in a sense - project an 'anti-clarity'. But this 'anti-clarity' does not appear to have been done for satirical reasons. If it has been done for aesthetic reasons - the aesthetic is not evident to me?


''Standers eyeing in after, from windows outside
Find it's impossible to window unlock
Yet easy to open the floodgate of the "died"
Passing time morphs into a broken clock''

I don't know what this is saying - in the sense that I cannot rephrase it into anything meaningful to me.

I mean is the poem saying something like;

Some people are alive
some people are dead
the dead know what it is like to die
the living do not
since death is the only real suffering
nobody will suffer until they meet their end
everybody will die eventually?

This poem is about the nuanced perspective of the victor, and how those not in the conflict become more radicalized than those involved. You have completely misinterpreted it, which is a shame because it is something I would love you to read about. I don't understand how it the message it's clear, but I would love you do highlight parts that don't make sense, so I can fix them.