Page 1 of 1

Farewell

Posted: Thu Jul 16, 2020 6:42 pm
by Mark
.


   Dirty humanity then marched past all natural freedoms,

  bade a silent farewell to dignity. Inside the Collective’s
 razor wire and railway docks, paper apes faded away
in tower blocks of taboo, privacy as sinister as roses
.
  

l ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ l  As a digitised generation expired
l                l  in lies weaponised as a history
l                l  of threaded webs embedded
l _ _ _ _ _ l  in newly-dead social media,
the slow suffocation of credit and work
was tyranny grinning in a plastic suit,
and stone fascist corporations shed
no tears as the bees disappeared.



 

Re: Farewell

Posted: Sat Jul 18, 2020 3:44 am
by Dave
The format is interesting and the poem well written. The content dealing with modern issues is nevertheless peculiarly old-fashioned in a way since these are things that have been said since the beginning of history, just the components are different. We shall see, we shall see.
Dave 

Re: Farewell

Posted: Sat Jul 25, 2020 9:53 pm
by Matty11
Is S1 a quote Mark?

I like the sonic thread of dirty/dignity/digitised/dead

privacy as sinister as roses. - struggling with the image, though like the challenge,
something to do with thorns/beauty/individuality?

tyranny grinning in a plastic suit - like that one, but I don't feel the fascist line adds more

cheers

Phil

Re: Farewell

Posted: Mon Jul 27, 2020 2:16 pm
by indar
What a sense of leave-taking and loss to this one, heightened by the actual loss of life as we know it just now. 

I have read it several times, tried to determine what I think of the empty box (even the outline is dotted and uncertain) and yes some restated concerns such as "the collective" which brings to mind one of the old star trek themes of drones in a hive which is ironic in light of the disappearing bees.

I too caught on the sinister roses---perhaps a sweet overlay that belies something poisonous? 

Interesting read that I will continue to mull over

Re: Farewell

Posted: Mon Aug 03, 2020 12:14 pm
by poet-e
Great rhythm.

A teacher said I try to hard to say stuff in my poems, i.e., I make it too political, punchy.  Feel that way about this one.