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    dots Submission Name: The Ignorance of Blissdots

    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    58/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2779/1297/258
    Words: 89
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1042
    Average Vote:    4.0000
    Bytes: 717

       After I've been properly psychoanalyzed, I'll let you know.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe Ignorance of Blissdots

    As madmen torture
    angels into visionary
    creeds, the cities
    of our sorrows
    p*ssed at the sky
    to ward off stars;
    we stitched kisses
    to our lips, numbed
    with hungers
    named regrets
    mating dances quivering
    to the covenant we kept.

    Darkness fell in fragments
    like the pumice
    we call dreams, an arachnophobic
    legion that had
    sadly sued for peace;
    whispering "Do the right
    thing and we'll
    dissever terrors from
    the swollen bowl
    of sleep."

    Forgive me my
    laughter, I've no
    clue what that
    might mean.

    Submitted on 2006-05-19 00:51:20     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      There is some fabulous imagery here, those opening lines are incredible. It reminds me of 'Nietzsche's 'The Madman in the market place' and it also reminds me of Milton's Paradise Lost but it probably hasn't anything to do with either and leaves me fumbling to find meaning - which is one reason I love that ending.
    take care
    | Posted on 2006-05-30 00:00:00 | by comradenessie | [ Reply to This ]
      When I was a student in the most amazing literature class ever, my professor once told me that verbal vomitting can produce some of the most profound ideas. Now, being young and impressionable I found just his statement to be profound, but he had a point. Sometimes just throwing out what hits your mind can be cathartic.

    This has a mournful, conflicted feel to it. We have madmen beating up angels. Cities against the stars, numbed lips, (that could have been a novocaine flashback- by the way). But I think the whole piece for me hinges on the concept of pumiced dreams

    Pumice is hollow and abrasive, and if ones dreams are abrasive it helps pull all the other visuals into perspective. This is not the average longing poem, it's angry, sad, bitter, and mournful all at the same time.

    I could go on for hours sounding like an ametuer psychologist, but I think I'm just going to dwell on the emotions this piece inspired.

    Thanks for the share,

    | Posted on 2006-05-26 00:00:00 | by Chell | [ Reply to This ]
      Hi Bill,

    Well yes the question of one's behavior could be a maddening affair but we all have our struggles with the seemingly intense data that blurs every line. And blur, I think is the key. There is so much of it that none of it could be taken as gospel. No, I'm not going to talk religion because I'm sure we both have similar ideas.

    Forgive me my
    laughter, I've no
    clue what that
    might mean.

    And this says it all, after the insidious quote before it. I cannot find love in a world where my God or Goddess gives me fear first.
    In fact doing or not doing something to avoid punishment is way below consciousness in my mind. On the stratas called "journey to enlightenment" fear is literally at the bottom.

    Poignant and true to your style. Thanks for sharing , and you take care,

    | Posted on 2006-05-22 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow, this is interesting! Not entirely sure what the meaning of this is, but I like the depth of your writing here. I also like the vertical movement of this piece, both up and down (not unlike life, eh?). You're not giving the reader an easy out; you're going to have to work for this, you're telling them. Nicely done. have you been published? Have you submitted work? If not, you should. From what Iíve read you are an excellent writer.


    | Posted on 2006-05-20 00:00:00 | by joeyalphabet | [ Reply to This ]
      Who does nowadays?

    Sometimes, when the world is screaming at you to let go you just do. And there will a lot of thrusting, pushing, pulling, sniffing and yelling that will go on while everything that holds you together goes to the back of your head for respite or anything that resembles respite.

    And when you wake up in the morning with a carpet of clothing on the floor, marks whose origins you can't remember and fatherless/motherless memories that start swirling back in with the scent of abandonment, all you can really do is laugh... or feel guilty.

    To me, the mention of arachnophobia (despite it being a fear of spiders or something) represents a fear of fireworks. And that works well in this piece because fireworks are more of wants than needs.

    I think that the piece was well-made. The images you painted were intensly inviting and they work quite well with this seemingly outstretched style of writing.
    | Posted on 2006-05-19 00:00:00 | by ANGELO | [ Reply to This ]
      are you truly mad or are you merely guessing?
    makes me feel like empty promises of morality. applauds all around for good mr. bill. i'll be stalking you now for sure. end message...
    | Posted on 2006-05-19 00:00:00 | by disillusion | [ Reply to This ]
      This is a very different write Bill, and to your credit, reminded me of Simic (one of my faves).

    The whole poem comes off as a nightmarish vision. Madmen torturing the angels in their heads...for the a moment of clarity, which in the end is simply madness.

    I don't know what i'm talking about, but the way this poem ends reminds me of something which Eliot once said:

    "The strong poem resists criticism."

    This is a strong poem Bill, and in my singular opinion, one of your finest. Its strange, but in all my time here at elite...your writing seems to show the most improvement. Some people never really 'have it'. With you i get the impression that you've always 'had it'...but are now making the most of it. Its inspiring. Each new post brings something different and interesting.

    There's a reason i'm stalking you.

    see you later,
    be well friend,
    | Posted on 2006-06-08 00:00:00 | by twacky | [ Reply to This ]
      Sometimes when I can't figure out what a poet is saying in a straightforward manner, well I start at the opposite end. So with your closing statement, combined with the title hmmm..., my conclusion is it really doesn't matter what else you were saying for the purpose of your message which involves the state of mind/being referred to as bliss: complete happiness, joy.

    Actually I can read this more than one way, and in looking at the poem again I see an absence of bliss, or joy , in fact I see an awful lot of words that make me think misery. So I think an ignorance of bliss is simply not knowing joy........oh and then to take that one step further, being blissful, one does not know how miserable things really are because of that state of mistaklen bliss.

    Or maybe in my blissful ignorance I am trying to think about this too hard and am just confusing myself further... which makes me laugh (albeit sheepishly) and return to your final line and say..."Forgive me my
    laughter, I've no
    clue what that
    might mean."

    and ok, I just thought of one more little play on words here..to ignor, the ignor-ance of bliss. We ignor the possiblility that bliss is a possibility and so totally miss the chance to reach that state. I guess I better stop here. Thanks for puttin' up with me~chris

    (You know ignorance is only bliss if one is blissfully unaware of ones state of ignorance...and I am not so help me out here would you? :)
    | Posted on 2006-05-22 00:00:00 | by ponykeeper | [ Reply to This ]

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