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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: TheToys of Mendots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 323
    Class/Type: Prose/Misc
    Total Views: 738
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 2024



    Description:
       ~an exploration of abnormality as purity~


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

    dotsTheToys of Mendots
    -------------------------------------------


    Honey, none of us are angels…and I may even be a devil to some, but I love. We love. I just do it differently. I love pretty things because they’re sweet and good in an…exciting way. I love so much it’s impossible to contain my ardor, so I share with those closest to me. That’s why…well, we live so far from other people. They don’t understand.


    Am I a whore, Daddy? Because I…we…I mean I don’t think anything is wrong just because…


    I know. I love you most because you care so much, honey. Love can’t be bought, it’s given. And I’ve given all I can. If we were normal, not ‘whores.’ not…lovers, that would be abnormal, wouldn’t it darling? I enjoy you in so many ways that our lives will always be one.


    Happiness is what it is, Daddy. What we have is nothing but. No one else would love us because…they’d ‘know’ better, there’d always be that one…shock, that ugly beautiful feeling like a blessing from a strange god. I used to feel guilty about us but…how can I when everyone I’ve met says goodness is an absolute that they admire but never live? If I love my father and it sets hell on fire till all the devils are dead, we’ll make heaven there and call it our own Eden.


    Well then…should we…


    Did you enjoy what we almost did? And afterwards?


    Yes, my love, of course.


    Then what shall we call the baby?


    Baby? We’re going to…


    We will because we’re in love. Aren’t we?


    Always angel...


    Then?


    Beloved, I think.


    I and my beloved…




    Submitted on 2007-12-20 21:02:34     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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    ||| Comments |||
      I am Beloved and she is mine.
    (still reading Beloved at the moment... but i get the gist, and i know what happens.
    wicked. ideas, across cultures and timelines that wave a big red arrow at the fact that not everyone is identical. not everyone believes the same thing... but... anyyyyway.)

    So... Beloved...
    For this last literature class I took, we read this, and the teacher told us that if we wanted to understand anything at all, or... something... if we wanted to understand Beloved at all (beyond all the "Wait, what? Did that just happen?" moments/etc. and into the whole... everythingness... of it (yar)), you'd have to understand how Sethe could kill her own child. How any mother could do that sort of thing, yadda yadda.

    I guess it all comes down to a sort of step-out-of-your-fishbowl way to look at it...
    Anything, really. This family, Sethe, your neighbors, etcetcetc (duh).

    And.... I've read this a few times all the way through, and each time, I'm struck with this feeling of having way too much to say, and not enough to bother typing it out, all at the same time.

    So... I suppose I'll end saying I like it, despite how twisted it is, and how... awkward it feels sometimes. Or maybe because of it.
    (never hurts.)


    blahblahblahblah
    Goodnight
    | Posted on 2008-07-20 00:00:00 | by sadtrapofgravit | [ Reply to This ]
      I think it is interesting that others see this as some sort of attempt to make the abnormal normal. To me it is so clearly just what it is--an unflinching depiction of abuse-- and all of the mind warping that goes along with it. I would never personally compare the victimization of a child with a mutual and consenting sexual relationship between two adults (whether they are gay or not).

    The title says it all for me. If you wanted us to somehow identify with the father I don't think you would have called this piece "The Toys of Men".

    And the daughter’s lines--so fraught with confusion, self-loathing, loneliness, desperation, and innocence--wondering if her abuse makes her dirty, thinking that a baby will come from whatever he "almost did"--pitting herself against the wrath of hell for the man who has taken her soul and mutilated it. There is nothing normal about this "love".

    The twistedness and the selfishness of the father is also very clearly illustrated here with his rationalizations:

    "I love pretty things because they’re sweet and good in an…exciting way. I love so much it’s impossible to contain my ardor, so I share with those closest to me."

    His demeanor is so lulling and gentle--like an assassin who tries to make his prey stop struggling as he holds the gun steadily to the head and gets ready to pull the trigger.

    The saddest lines for me though, are the daughter’s:

    "What we have is nothing but. No one else would love us because…they’d ‘know’ better,"

    She sees what she has as nothing. And yet she groups herself together with him--she shares his guilt--even when she is being so deeply injured.

    But isn't she right to ask who would love her? Who does? Pity her, yes . . . but love her? Of course we want to, but aren't so many of us just too ashamed to face this--the worst violation of trust? Why else would anybody make statements like "they obviously think they are doing no wrong . . . "?

    At any rate, to borrow from your words, I found this poem to be " Well done and strangely effective".
    | Posted on 2008-06-24 00:00:00 | by JanePlane | [ Reply to This ]
      gah.
    the way you wrote this almost twists reality. its madness. the way you take something that is so... dirty and almost turn it into something beautiful is crazy to me.

    but too true.
    some acts people carry out that seem "wrong" to most is completely fine and "normal" to them... im not sure why that happens... how come we all have such different filtering systems. like a girl i used to go to church with was sleeping with this other girl [and well im sure youve heard the church's stance on same sex relationships] and yet when we talked about it [because i was the only person she knew who wasnt condemning her actions] she said she'd never felt closer to god than she had since she'd been with this girl... that they would read the bible together and pray together in a way she'd never experienced with the christian boys she'd slept with... in her filtering system her being with this girl was the most natural thing ever despite what everyone else around her was saying/thinking/judging...

    it seems to me though that the daughter in this piece has a few doubts about the "normalcy' of her and her fathers interactions... confusion perhaps...

    love has boundaries that are easily blurred and misinterpreted...


    i and my beloved... seems so song of solomon to me...
    | Posted on 2008-03-04 00:00:00 | by Someones Epiphany | [ Reply to This ]
      "thats why...well, we live so far from other people. ..."
    this is so vivid. like a little snippet of a movie. i can see the expressions on the faces.
    so the description;"an exploration of abnormality as purity". what "normal" society deems wrong or maybe even sinful flip flopped on us and shown through the eyes of the "abnormal". nice.
    this makes me think of these kind of court cases we see on the boob tube every so often, you know, the student/teacher affair or some sort of incest or polygamy somewhere in the backwoods.(why don't they just do it in the city where no one would ever know?). makes me wonder whats going through those peoples minds when they're on the stand. i mean they obviously think they are doing no wrong. right? strange.
    well, this is good and dark and dark and good.
    i like.
    | Posted on 2007-12-20 00:00:00 | by eno1 | [ Reply to This ]


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