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Lament for Neo-Man*

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  • Lament for Neo-Man*

    LAMENT FOR NEO-MAN

    Once upon a time it was you and me and baby make three in a white picket fence apple pie dream of the world. Sharp clear right and wrong, secure in mama’s tired smile, secure in father’s tight rules, knowing without a doubt that white Christian men could do no wrong and bless me what is that noise?

    One eye opened and saw and felt and heard, got moved, by the voice that changed the world. Some of us migrated into the motion of his hips and learned the “new� song. Both eyes open now and blood fully running and suddenly the world was not safe anymore, but we took refuge in the song and bless me what is that hair?

    Both eyes open now but blackened by the bully force of the Man and the power and the rage of war. We migrated into the groves of the dove. We wandered doe-eyed into the soft lights of peace. We inhaled and swayed and struggled to retain some innocent hold on the world, trying to avoid the slaughter.

    And then we contemplated nothing dancing beneath glittering lights. Then music just seemed to go away. Boss Man summoned and bank statements became the new song. In the distance we heard old tunes on new tours, summoning nostalgia and a chuckle for a thing called peace. Our kids were shelved, sheltered, or coddled and we wondered if tie-dye would come around again someday.

    “Peace and love? Screw that!� my son slammed and warned us to open up our Hilfiger eyes.

    “Count the wounds you stupid people! You don’t know the first thing about fear, about darkness, about wandering and avoiding the Man and that NOTHING can unseat him now,� he said, caught up in a teenage rage. We shrugged and got back to business, knowing this too would pass.

    But their fingers clench weapons and they wound themselves and each other with glowering songs that tell their pain. No music can save the day, they know. No drug no parent no book. They wall themselves up in basements and wait for the end.

    Mother wants to cradle her neo-man and cries.
    All the world lost the day we closed our eyes.

    KES
    October 25, 2003

    *note: the prefix neo does NOT mean the Matrix. ;)

  • #2
    Hey Poetgrrl, I really like that. Post-apocalyptic prose for the apocalypse that never happened--except in our hearts, at what has occured, this sterile excuse for existence devoid of hope or meaning, that we call NOW. Bits of the old consciousness still exist, but it's like looking at shards of a mirror that can no longer reflect the unity we once shared...

    Peace, love, unity, respect, the old raver's creed, echoes of the still earlier 60's. I still believe in that, but where has the music gone?

    "The answer, my friend, lies blowin' in the wind..."

    Maybe I didn't do enough drugs. I still remember all of it.

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    • #3
      I feel it only just to comment after taking the time to read my story. Very nice, poet. I love the poetic flow of this entire piece. Now, the only thing that confused me were the lack of commas, dunno is that was intentional (i'm not much of a poet, more a fantasist), so commas" are my friend.

      [/quote]Once upon a time it was you and me and baby make three in a white picket fence apple pie dream of the world. Sharp clear right and wrong, secure in mama’s tired smile, secure in father’s tight rules, knowing without a doubt that white Christian men could do no wrong and bless me what is that noise? [/quote]

      Or. . .

      Once upon a time it was you, and me, and baby make three in a white picket fence, apple pie dream of the world.

      Or. . .

      Once upon a time it was you and me, and baby make three, in a white picket fence, apple pie dream of the world.


      Oh what a simple comma can do! Well, either way, it was a nice, short piece and I enjoyed it greatly.

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