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    dots Submission Name: Dulling, Dripping Into Unfeelingdots

    Author: Indelible_ink
    ASL Info:    20/F/AZ
    Elite Ratio:    5.75 - 143/109/25
    Words: 304
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 1306
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 1772

       It's a bit jumbled and maybe a little to descriptive to understand. To put it plainly it's the introduction of how I feel, how I grew into feeling it, and how I doubt myself in feeling this. Hopefully you can see what I mean and catch the little hints that I haven't bluntly pointed out. lol

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

    dotsDulling, Dripping Into Unfeelingdots

    It may dull my life to ineffective stub with meaningless tasks
    But you donít have to feel to live, live to feel, to pass
    As something human, humanity just a speck in the dust of stars
    In the stains of galaxies, in the smears of universes, however far
    You look into the world, pain is a mind game played by time
    To be or not to be is the question that lingers on every mind
    This question to the dead, by a lonely pessimist; is life just a trick?
    To travel across lifeís winding roads and find the end to be a cliff?

    Drip inconspicuously into solitude by every single reflective tear
    Until the walls take the rebound of harm, and to no longer fear
    Of feeling the pain, the hurt, that dawns slowly on even a child
    Whose path that led into the inescapable hole of the wild-
    And ravenous age of poverty, to resolutely proclaim that life is luck
    God rolls a dice and you deceived that you have a choice to duck
    From the ill fated bombs that advance abruptly onto you
    Only to find that a distraction to the massive wall you run into

    To feel is only but a simple, complex trick by the magician of time
    Just a confusing abstraction, distraction, detraction of the mind
    To no longer feel is the only way to deal with the cards and the dice
    That scatters itself on every passage and path in the table of life
    In all this absurdity hope still glows within the heart, itís unmistakable
    That the heart seen like glass sometimes almost seems itís unbreakable
    Youíd claw yourself to that hope but the mind in all its little follies
    Strives to be unfeeling till the only remaining feeling is to be sorry

    Submitted on 2006-05-24 19:18:37     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      At the begginning of this poem, it seemed the poem would be written with the "Brain in a Bottle" theory.

    It says that if the brain is just a chemically controlled organ that channels micro electron volts, then we could essentially be brains in a bottle somewhere. If fed the right information, we wouldn't even know it. The whole "Matrix" kinda thing.

    Well, I was wrong. It branched out wonderfully with complexity I found engaging :) It began with a perspective I've always had:

    "humanity just a speck in the dust of stars
    In the stains of galaxies, in the smears of universes"

    "Stains" and "smears" are GREAT, translucent words that accurately signify how many galaxies and universes there are, sooo many that the number is beyond comprehension.

    There are many examples of words in this poem that deserve praise. I gotta go though...

    Good job :)

    | Posted on 2006-05-25 00:00:00 | by Shaqua1973 | [ Reply to This ]
      To me, pain is a necessary component of definition. You can't understand the necessary concepts of what a thing is if you don't know what it is not. And pleasure... cannot exist or be understood with pain.

    To feel is to live... to shy away from feeling is to be content with mere existence. And there will be a price to pay in the end... where regret is the only thing left to feel when you've already pushed the other feelings aside with the days gone by.

    I like the way you moved through the piece.

    It came across as this vaguely vindictive tone that seems to be filled with negativity only to present a deviously hidden sense of wisdom.

    Yes... it was devious... in a good way.

    My only concern is that if the reader doesn't agree with the first sentiment you presented to build a foundation for your ending, s/he might shy away from taking the piece seriously. S/he might choose to go about it casually and miss your point.

    But I guess that's the reader's fault. Not yours.

    Anyway... on the first line... was that really meant to be ineffective stub or ineffectively stub? Not that it ruins the poem or anything... Just thought I should mention it.

    Though there are points wherein the strong persona of your piece is a bit hard to take in, this piece as a whole, to me, is a keeper.
    | Posted on 2006-05-24 00:00:00 | by ANGELO | [ Reply to This ]

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