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My World Is Pyramid Analysis

Author: poem of Dylan Thomas Type: poem Views: 9

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Half of the fellow father as he doubles

His sea-sucked Adam in the hollow hulk,

Half of the fellow mother as she dabbles

To-morrow's diver in her horny milk,

Bisected shadows on the thunder's bone

Bolt for the salt unborn.

The fellow half was frozen as it bubbled

Corrosive spring out of the iceberg's crop,

The fellow seed and shadow as it babbled

The swing of milk was tufted in the pap,

For half of love was planted in the lost,

And the unplanted ghost.

The broken halves are fellowed in a cripple,

The crutch that marrow taps upon their sleep,

Limp in the street of sea, among the rabble

Of tide-tongued heads and bladders in the deep,

And stake the sleepers in the savage grave

That the vampire laugh.

The patchwork halves were cloven as they scudded

The wild pigs' wood, and slime upon the trees,

Sucking the dark, kissed on the cyanide,

And loosed the braiding adders from their hairs,

Rotating halves are horning as they drill

The arterial angel.

What colour is glory? death's feather? tremble

The halves that pierce the pin's point in the air,

And prick the thumb-stained heaven through the thimble.

The ghost is dumb that stammered in the straw,

The ghost that hatched his havoc as he flew

Blinds their cloud-tracking eye.


My world is pyramid. The padded mummer

Weeps on the desert ochre and the salt

Incising summer.

My Egypt's armour buckling in its sheet,

I scrape through resin to a starry bone

And a blood parhelion.

My world is cypress, and an English valley.

I piece my flesh that rattled on the yards

Red in an Austrian volley.

I hear, through dead men's drums, the riddled lads,

Screwing their bowels from a hill of bones,

Cry Eloi to the guns.

My grave is watered by the crossing Jordan.

The Arctic scut, and basin of the South,

Drip on my dead house garden.

Who seek me landward, marking in my mouth

The straws of Asia, lose me as I turn

Through the Atlantic corn.

The fellow halves that, cloven as they swivel

On casting tides, are tangled in the shells,

Bearding the unborn devil,

Bleed from my burning fork and smell my heels.

The tongue's of heaven gossip as I glide

Binding my angel's hood.

Who blows death's feather? What glory is colour?

I blow the stammel feather in the vein.

The loin is glory in a working pallor.

My clay unsuckled and my salt unborn,

The secret child, I sift about the sea

Dry in the half-tracked thigh.


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||| Analysis | Critique | Overview Below |||

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I agree with mr. thomas. the word (not the planet) is a pyramidal structure. Every process oe can think of can be, you know, summarized, put into simpler words, a simpler expression. maybe summarized is not the right term. potentially containing all its future forms is more suitable. when arranged in a geometric manner this yerarchy of happenings are arranged into a pyramidal shape. you know, this sounds a lot like marx's materialism. was dylan a red? somebody check that out. the thing is, dialectism really provides a basis onto wich articulate the pyramid. but the thing is that a dialectical pyramid i growing towards its end, the summit of the pyramid. which is good and bad at the same time, because it means we are headed towards the end (THE end), but at the same time towards the maximum concentration of the every single process in this universe which is good, or maybe it's a black hole. is that how the universe ends? somebody check that out. you kow how when A meets B they form C, and C meets D and they form E etc. Two single units are only able of creating one new unit, which means that each new layer is shorter than the one before. the direction of the universe time is from big to small (thus enthropy - the termodynamical one) and the deal with life? two units are able to create thousands of new ones. maybe that's what makes life special, its ability to generate new units in a universe that's flowing into the opposite direction. life is the only structure able to do that. and its doing it in an increasingly decreased universe! but will life grow outside the universe?
\ /-Life?
\ /\ /
\/ /\- Universe intersection life
/ \/ \
/ \
/ \- universe
/ \
/ \
Only if the triangle of life is actually another triangle, different that the cosmos one and not just a singularity inside it. so the universe is not the cosmos, but if it is a fractal the cosmos is still a pyramid.
or maybe our mind is a cognitive pyramid, and anything processed by it acquires the shape of a pyramid. in any case, dylan was right.

| Posted on 2008-07-11 | by a guest

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