Description: I wanted to write something that would only take hours. Apparently, I can.
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IF YOU’VE NEVER SEEN MICHAELANGELO’S “PIETA,” PLEASE LOOK AT THIS PICTURE BEFORE YOU CONTINUE:
http://home.c2i.net/monsalvat/pieta.jpg
When I saw it for the very first time, I thought that I was looking at a sculpture of a beggar asking for food.
As for a favela, it is the Brazilian equivalent of a shanty town. Here in the Philippines, we have a lot of those areas and they normally house people who are stricken by poverty.
Pieta (...I Wish You Were a Slut.) -------------------------------------------
I’m afraid that the Words
cannot rescue me here
with the chairs educating your knees of my thigh,
with your eyes staring far too close to know better than
smothering cue-carded Shakespearean verbs
and the gift to God-will every phrase to hold worlds
and of course,
with your ears –
a Saint Peter’s Basilica
highly affluent of statuesque arms
in a waiting embrace that could only hold standards
beyond my collection of rubber shoed words
marathoning the spans of defense mechanisms left
moat-ing my – what you call - “castles of sand.”
But they come for me here
when the chairs are all cramped
but your eyes cannot leer
and your ears cannot hear through
the distance engraving a mighty illusion
of nameless favelas with arms reaching out
with your eyes staring far too close to know better than
smothering cue-carded Shakespearean verbs
and the gift to God-will every phrase to hold worlds
and of course,
with your ears –
a Saint Peter’s Basilica
I'm afraid I had a much longer and more thoughtful comment lost to the wasteland of the net, so I'll attempt to regather some of those thoughts and try again.
This appears to be an erotic reimagining of the Pieta filtered through the adoration of individual and collective worshippers. Although the knee may find its chair in the form of the floor for the kneeling devotee, it may also be the relative position the sculptor portrays of Christ's thighs as He was cradled on the knees of the Madonna. When such a portrait is stripped of its religious significance, then the youthful mother's actions may appear to be more of a lovers swoon than a tender farewell. And based on that observation, some might conclude that the core of faith may be eroticism/mysticism rather than abstinence.
At least that's what I gather the second time around. Sorry I couldn't add anything noteworthy, sir, but sometimes the evils of technology overwhelm us.
I must admit my curiosity with your title, after seeing it in Jase's faves, is what brought me here. I find the Pieta a beautiful piece of art, from the standpoint of one who has poured the bronze for a sculptor and personally appreciates art.
As a humble Pagan-Catholic, my fascination with the Pieta comes from a different kind of perspective - your write brings out that side of me. I respect your insight and gift for writing it.
I probably could on, boring you with everything I have found and find with each read, but I shall leave it at this touched me deeply.
Excellent write,
Lisa
a little nitpick before i continue: why isnt the photo attached to this piece? the title could hit so much harder and accurately if it were in my opinion. the title just grabs attention, and if the photo were displayed for all to see, you would have basically obligated every person who'd come across this page to read everything till the end! just imagine the trouble you would cause! it is a masterpiece by one of the greats after all.
im sure you have your reasons for the digital image you present here; a modern metropolitan skylined cityskape, skewed, and skattered with faint images from worm's eye. its something different. two images as one, morphed into each other digitally... which is odd... the philippines is somewhat like the image... i think i'm starting to see your reasoning now. this is one of the only few places in the world where extreme poverty live side by side with extreme wealth. the mix can be volatile as the extremes can only grow. *sigh we had such a kick ass bio-diversity too!
there are few bits i;d like to interpret here in your piece as well...;
"with the chairs educating your knees of my thigh,"
something to do with kneeling down, on pews of sorts..? why yes, this country is dominated by roman catholics, it being the main religion. i think that is the main meat of the matter at hand. the rest of this piece strikes me as something religious. yes.. i think it is some kind of a religious commentary of sorts on poverty and the masses. hmmm, the second i realized there were numerous religious connotations, the more i liked this piece. which makes me want to bring up my first nitpick. oh well.
i like this part;
"...rubber shoed words
marathoning the spans of defense mechanisms left
moat-ing my – what you call - “castles of sand.”"
When I looked at the sculpture, and then at the poem, it just made me think of Mother Teresa going around finding poor, sick people and taking care of them.
So what is up with your title, man? Beats me.
Lots of fancy words in your poems. Not that I don't like to use fancy words at times, but I like to keep my poems somewhat simpler. Not that my poems are childish.
I love the title.
To me it is like wanting to mar. Mar beauty. Make it ugly with an ugly connotation. Strike it down and make it worthless in the minds eye. Make it less than because it is something you want. The Ego is such a fragile thing.
As to the poem -
I got caught up in the same line as Jase. I would read it, get it, lose it, read it, get it, lose it. I think you have to read it in one breath. It has grown on me.
This feels like Parochial School. Then it feels like:
my words are just as soulful, truthful, love-filled and enlightening as religious manuals. But I can't speak them in the 'right' way.
I have to admit, I wrote another review prior to this and it took me so long to write it that ES logged me out. I was trying to recapture a bit of it back, but it has left me. I apologize if my thoughts on this are a bit odd.
That statue is a classic; it's probably my favourite, alongside Rodin's 'The Thinker'--I think, more for what they represent than the actual supreme mastery involved (which I can't discount). To be able to wrest life from stone requires... immense passion... and it shows. It's like a photograph but tangible, able to be grasped.
When I visited the Philippines, I remember the shanty-towns, and... it made me feel nauseous that people could live like that, and also lucky that I wasn't in that predicament. It's a memory I'll never forget, I don't think. And it's what makes this extra-powerful.
To me, I guess this is about the poverty of words one sometimes encounters; one cannot write forever, even if one wishes otherwise. I was writing three poems every two days for the past year and a half, non-stop, and for the past two months, I slowed right down, so much that it scared me, so much that I questioned each new thing I wrote. I guess... the more one writes, the more self-critical one is, the more... impassioned to write something so disgustingly beautiful... it reeks, becomes timeless in its stench... or [fit some other silly metaphor regarding the olfactory senses here]...
I've faved this, but I have two nitpicks: you definitely meant "every phrase", and... "and the gift to God-will each phrase to hold worlds"--somehow, I just can't get my head around this grammatically, no matter how hard I try. I think this line needs tweaking...
But apart from that, this is a gem. So many connotations, that I'm sure your intentions for this are far different to what I've picked up on...
I wanna comment so bad... and I think I will have to come back to do so (as I am selfish and need a coffee). I love your title... I mean how can anyone pass that up. damn !!! I just need to process it a bit more. That title just kills me. Did I mention I love it.
Submission Name: Pieta (...I Wish You Were a Slut.)
