I think I prefer the revised ending. It is grittier, which makes it more fitting.
There is something about reformed whores (smile). And there is a sadness that lingers in the back drop. At least for me there is.
I don't know if that will ever dissapear completely so I will go back to my 'it's hard being a woman sometimes' stance.
It is a weird thing to sell oneself as ware. I remember the second car I ever got into and the [censored] pulled a gun on me. I can't tell you how pissed I was. I looked at him and laughed
which threw him off completely. It was like - dude, are you for real??? Besides the man kicking the [censored] outta me, I gotta deal with this crap on top of it. Don't think so. Though I felt brave after the fact, and lucky and stupid, and sad and angry. God, it sucked out there.
So I don't know if I will ever have copper wings. I will never see myself an angel. Though I can say - penny for your thoughts - on occasion.
i can't actually read. i discovered a few months ago that i'm technically illiterate. it's been a losing battle ever since.
... so once "detail" turned into "denial" and "brings" into "beings," it all made a bit more sense.
i feel like i could write an essay on this...
part of me really wants to believe in hedonism. part of me thinks that if everyone was happy, the world would be better, and all those silly things like murder and crime and poverty wouldn't exist any more. then it occurs to me that people would be too busy bedwrestling to go to work and this and that, and of course society would fall into the clutches of despair. but what if that meant people would follow their guts more? i think it would. people would, ideally, want to work, and if they didn't thennn, well... then natural selection would kick in and all the stupid people would go away, and the smart, happy people would be left over.
i don't think pleasure or possibility makes anyone good or evil. then again, i'm not reformed.
aaah yeah... dunno.
i was raised really conservatively, so i know all about the denial of these deep wrongs. my dad's pastor was always so condescending. i'm not sure if it was because he's a pastor, or because he's just a dick. maybe we're all just whores. maybe we need some sorta god to keep us in line and live through vibrant dreams alone.
I can only seem to understand this poem in a purely visceral way. When I think about it too hard, it slips away from me.
Everything about this poem seems fresh and original. I especially like the phrase "copper-colored angels." The title is excellent and thought-provoking, if a little heavier on the irony than the rest of the poem.
I think what I like about this poem is that it seems somehow unearthly, as if it's a mysterious that fell suddenly from the sky and landed in the middle of some dirtbag town. The copper-colored feather of an angel's wing, maybe.