Bergeron (revision)

[Todd]

Revision

The future is bobby socks
and poodle skirts, saddle shoes

and revolution

the sound of broken glass
running through my brain.

What was the question? 


My mouth is a badly-filled pothole
of blackened stumps and jagged protrusions.
Weigh the birdshot if you doubt I'm average.



All men are not created equal.

Society must render them so,

like the carcasses of cattle.



Can you hear my words

through this buzzing?
Nothing you’re watching


is true--save the tears
still wet but as forgotten
as the fading steps of the dance.

The Ballerina is broken.
The Emperor dead. Go back
to your original programming.

Original

The future is bobby socks
and poodle skirts, saddle shoes

and revolution,


the sound of broken glass
running through my brain.

What was the question?

I am average, need to be average,

desperately want to be average—

will be made average.



All men are not created equal.

Society must render them so,

like the carcasses of cattle.



Can you hear my words

through this buzzing?
Nothing you’re watching


is true--save the tears
still wet but as forgotten
as the fading steps of the dance.

The Ballerina is broken.
The Emperor dead. Go back
to your original programming.

[heslopian]

I love this poem. It sums up what I hate about the wannabe rebels who promote the watered down philosophy that we should all be individuals, while conforming to a stereotype. We all want to fit in, none of us want to be lonely. It's sad but true. The final tercet is utterly compelling in its nihilism.

[Todd]

Thanks for the kind words Jack

[billy]

The future is bobby socks
and poodle skirts, saddle shoes

and revolution,


the sound of broken glass
running through my brain.

What was the question?

I am average, need to be average,

desperately want to be average—

will be made average.



All men are not created equal.

Society must render them so,

like the carcasses of cattle.



Can you hear my words

through this buzzing?
Nothing you’re watching


is true--save the tears
still wet but as forgotten
as the fading steps of the dance.

The Ballerina is broken.
The Emperor dead. Go back
to your original programming.

i love the title, just from that i get images of all the ways people are forced to be equal. specially with masks if they're too pretty or good looking. (which wasn't mentioned in a verse of its own) the 1st verse is obviously about the future, it says so. (and poodle skirts, saddle shoes
, is a phrase i've hear or read in poetry before, maybe even one of yours)

the 2nd verse is the head radio wearing intellect, i like the image of running through broken glass as a noise maker.

the 3rd verse feels a little weak in the tell.

the 4th for me is the best of the poem. a perfect simile.

and eventually after the battle for freedom we all become average again.

all in all a good rendition of the film through poetry.
i would have liked to have seen a little more depth ie. the multiple handicapping. the actual handicappers doing their jobs etc. jmo.

Thanks for the read.

[Todd]

Thanks for the feedback Billy. If I decide to add the handicaps I'll convert S3 to show that being average takes work.

Much appreciated

---

Did a revision on S3 just to get something on paper. It will take me a bit to decide if it's more effective.