Description: its been a year since i was beaten and raped in Rome while backpacking Europe by myself. i am fine with it but tonight [well... its 4am right now] my mind is full of memories from that night... yeah... i dunno...
better title suggestions welcome.
the impractical brutality of truth -------------------------------------------
tonight i am complete[ly
out of context]
let me be
warped
by the brutality of memory
let me be down
wings get in the way
sometimes
flight is a naked, impractical
response
...sigh...
dont let me down
truth is a corrosive thing
and this pedestal is a cold and draughty place
The title drew me instantly because I have been thinking lately of how terrible truth is and though I haven't dedicated an entire poem to it, there was a line in a couple of my poems- one in particular- mentioning this. Truth is brutal. I didn't use that word personally- but it is. Many truths I've found are simply the types of things that drain you of hope, but truth can be more than disheartening, it can be, in cases like yours, as you said- "brutal". I liked how you called it "the impractical brutality of truth". The word "impractical" lent something to it, I think.
I have also thought over and spoken of the "corrosive" quality of truth. It seems to rot people from the inside out.
I LOVED the first line and your use of brackets- particularly the use of them in the first line. It really added to the power of an already intense line. I can't really tell you how to improve this, but I noticed you said better title suggestions were welcome. I love the current title. Leave it be. That's my advice.
I have been wondering lately about what was better, truth or lies, so your idea of "impractical"ity was an interesting touch. Truth is not always a healthy thing, is it?
After reading your poem, I read your notes at top and then re-read your piece. I am so sorry. I know people always say that out of politeness, but I really am sorry. I am sorry that anything like this ever happens to anyone. I wish you healing.
Your poem was a nice read and I thought it had a pleasant rhythm. Yet, I am sorry for what inspired it.
Well, I have read this and as I read the description above I could feel the somewhat helplessness of the present.
I cannot say much for the write as it is a mood write that lets nothing in and nothing out.
At times we get stuck in the past even if it is for a brief moment but it is within that time that we relive our worst moments and also think of the worst to come.
This write is a release of frustration but you must remember that somethings must be confronted in order to put it behind us.
From all indications you seem to be a strong willed young woman and that will serve you well.
The past is there for a reason and that is to always remind us where we have been and where we do not want to go again.
The journey is only have the battle, The other part is knowing that sometimes it is a rocky road and you have to step lightly.
Your friends and family are there and all you have to do is accept that you are not alone.
I read the description before the poem so I knew what it was about from that. Very simple but vivid poem. I just want to give you a hug o
I especially liked the line "Truth is a corrosive thing"
Shaun
wow, I had a roomate that backpacked through Europe once too and she came back with a horrific story too. Though she wasnt beaten and raped, it was more mystical.
Now...not wanting to get into the wholle "beating and rape" thing that I am sure you've gotten plenty of sympathy from (and I sympathize)...but I'm going to focus on the poem. P.S. If you find them, I'll kick their ass for a Slurpy...Heck Jaydee...I'll kick their ass for a Snickers bar...
I liked the [ ] parts to this. They really force the reader into feeling the emotion of what is being written. I would have liked to have seen maybe two more [ ]'s to it but not more than that because it just would have driven the significance of the write deep into the subconscience (sp?) of the reader.
Nice job in being able to write about it though. Shows a definate step in recovery. Now you should write something about a lawn chair that is halfway in the middle of thinking a human thought. That would kick butt.
Lawn chairs are classy...but thats just my thought.
WOW...i can really feel emotion as i read your work... you are apparently a very talented person. not so sure what the soul purpose of this piece is, but that is what i also like about it.
You can take it as you wish.
Great work.. really.
I was taken aback by the first sentence in your description. while reading people's poetry I have seen references and such to painful personal events many times, but to have it immeadiately told so bluntly is something iv'e enchountered much less.
I like the poem, though without the context i'm sure i would never have understood it completely. Though i want to say something meaningful here, i'm not sure what to say at all. I've had my own issues with abuse as well as having helped others through thier painful memories. During this past semester I helped a close friend break out of a very abusive relationship. It ended when he got arrested for having raped and beaten her earlier that night.
It is so very difficult for me to understand how someone could void themselves so completely of empathy in order to commit such a horrible act upon another. I don't understand how someone could justifiy such an act in thier mind...should they bother to do so at all.
Though i think this short piece and descriptions gets a strong reaction from me because i feel i can relate in some ways, I know that I, nor anyone else, will ever truely know your pain. The memory will always be there to some degree, even though you can come to terms and cope with it. I really do hope, so very much, that you come to find some way to be more at peace from it.
My own memories of abuse, as haunting as they once were, gave me something good of which i am most thankful. My experiences allowed me to better relate and connect with others i've met who have expereinced abuse as well. This is esspecially true for the friend i mentioned earlier for our trust in part came from shared pain. So despite having had considerable difficulty dealing with the pain from my memoies of abuse growing up, those very memoies have allowed me to help others in a way i could not do otherwise. I figured if i shared that, it might help somehow.
I don't know what else to say. My heart goes out to you. I hope you keep your spirt up despite this burdun. It took me a long time to do that myself and If you are not doing so already, i hope it doesn't take you as long to heal as it did me.
Hey, I cannot be there for you. I cannot feel what you feel. I cannot really understand. Who can do any of these things? I will not feed you empty clichés, holy verses, promises or noble intentions I intend to break. However, I pray for you now. And, I can give you the best advice I have ever found to anyone facing difficulty. Do what you can, mourn when you need and to hell with those who tell you to "pull yourself together" and finally, when the wind of opportunity rises, whatever direction it comes from, laugh without guilt, run with abandon, work with all your strength, bask in the glory and shine like the sun that caresses your face - because I for one am blessed by who you are...
This paints a very vivid picture for me, I saw a small child, sitting lost in the darkness, consumed with a need to move forward, to forget.
I felt sadness, deeper then the sense most people usually write about, also I sensed the loss of something precious, something irreplacable. And yet there was a hope hidden deep within the words, a hope that one day it would all fade into a distant memory.
Writing from the deepest parts of your heart and soul are sometimes hard, other times it is a form of much needed release.
This is very touching, I felt I could relate to what was being said, it touched a memory long forgotten and made me feel as if I were there, feeling what you felt.
time itself seems like the most corrosive substance, eliciting pain, shame & regret.
the first image that came to mind was of a butterfly with it's wings tore off but still alive. just lying there, cold and naked. dispising the wings it relied on to escape but couldn't.
the last word 'tonight' seems to evaluate the feeling of perpetual aloneness.
the only suggestion i have for the title would be to change 'truth' to 'time'.
I like the first line, because I was expecting ti to say "completely out of control", which would have been totally predictable, but "completely out of context" is fresh and so much more precise a description. I think you do a good job in using the parenthetical phrases to show the reader what you let the world see of you and what you keep hidden, and yet want someone to see. It reads almost like song lyrics. You know any guitar players?
So sorry that you had to experince such violence and pain, but thank goodness you can write about it and make connections with others who have been through similar tragedies.
Take care.
Sometimes I think that weariness is a buildup in the marrow of our bones, the plaque of the soul. There are sometimes when our physical bodies get so tired the soul leaks some of its juices. For some lucky people, those liquids slip out our fingers in the form of ink or the dotting cursor. Those people are writers. This is a great write because it carries the burdens and splashes of soul juice, of tired minds. It speaks and moves.
I think that fits you much better...I can't believe that I haven't read this yet.
I totally spaced out I guess and hadn't even realized you'd posted something new.
I think you should break :
and this pedestal is a cold and draughty place
into two lines.
Broken is only as broken as it is allowed to be...you were given free will for a reason, but I'm wasting my breath because we both know you're a strong individual.
I have very much admiration for your strength of being and after a stint in a supposed "violent, third-world place" to have this happen is well, out of sorts.
You are very tough and you share that which in only memory lingers.
You are one of those that practices forgiveness from the heart and although you may be occasionally, haunted, by this memory you have gained strength from the experience within.
I understand how a mood overtakes us. A little pain letting is healthy and it sounds like you did the most valuable thing imaginable.You wrote something about an incident that you probably won't forget. I believe that suppressing the emotions involved only makes them bigger and stronger when they come back around.
And I think art is the gentle healer. If more people found their beauty inside and told us of their inner travels, it would heal more of us. And more of us would share how we find peace within ourselves.
Even reading something like this feels healing to me. And it lifts us up to know someone has the courage to fight for themselves.
I agree, it reads like an exorcism... the angel wings, a little tinge of depressive suicidal fancies almost, impractical response to the suffering but oh sometimes in fight or flight, flight is the thing we have to resist the most...
I am with you, girl, and this is an eloquent scream of clarity and brilliance, without lifting the veil that adds beauty to the monstrous and ugly truth of things... Someone recently told me that the secret of life is, it's all just a series of [censored]ty plots, and it's up to us to piece the few highlights into something remarkable to look back on... I don't know if that makes any sense right now (Sipping La Mestiza de Nance sure helps it make sense though... shall I pour you a shot? :) )
i quite like the title. at least, i can't think of a better one. but, then, i'm bad at coming up with titles. this one fits the poem.
i like the line "truth is a corrosive thing" because it is so true.
i also like:
"wings get in the way
sometimes
flight is a naked, impractical
response"
that is also very true. flight can seem an unnecessary response sometimes.
i'm always amazed at how well you can write about this. my english teacher told us that, at times, some of the worst experiences can produce the greatest writing. isn't that odd? it's definitely true.
i love you. you know what to do if you need anything :)
...as ever, there are lots of cleverly articulated ideas here, because you are altogether smarter than the average bear.
and i suppose that is what makes this piece all the more tragic: all the more poignant: because it is not a rant but a carefully structured exorcism and i would not suppose to advise on how such exorcisms might be better carried out...
oh i daresay you will get more meaningful critique if you kill off the intro but then, this is not a poem in the true sense - so the intro doesn't count in 'exercises in exorcising'.
but it does.
take it easy mate.
k
I remember this happening to you and thought how horrible it was for you to be put through.Being beatin and raped is harsh to get over.There are reasons i can relate to this hon but i am not able to talk about it.And like you there are certain times of the year where it takes every will in me not to just lay in bed an sleep the week or four away.I came back to add something i had forgotten to say to you.To me the tilte fits this piece some might come along and say something different it's just my opinon.Take care sweet soul.I know how much it hurts to write from deeo inside where the scars are.But it's better to let it out of you.Hugs Jayde thinking of you.
Submission Name: the impractical brutality of truth
