(caress)
the smooth engine runs
refreshing as virtual water
to a thirsty soul
(desire)
before your eyes
arrogant installment:
lean skin engineered
to please the eye
and staged to provoke addiction
(admire)
the beauty of the queer device
- created by imitation gods
in a godless world -
is a frozen hook:
captures neurons
anesthetizes distressing pain
in esthetic bliss
(buy)
contemporary contemplates
feelings under cellophane
formal rendering
more essential
than essence
(unwrap)
new convention
perfected patterns
show with such detachment
that meaning is lost:
drops of sap from a machine?
(bond)
uniqueness of form
spreads like flu
conceived in a laboratory
by the white coats
of acceptable art
(cling)
recorded laughter
knows no end
unless a finger hits
the appropriate key
you are the finger
(yearn)
those re-creations
fake mechanic clatter
pose of plastic corpus
captivate you
with their precision
wireless syntony
(be cuddled)
in godlike arms
silicon sensation
tick-tock your finger‘s frozen
flip-flop
rain machine
décor and façade
rotate and oscillate
computerized pendulum
of technical perfection:
I struggle to add anything to what Charlie has said, Axilea. She has captured my own thoughts on this perfectly. Except to say that I am in total admiration of how controlled this writing is. Shows great confidence and poetic maturity. With such a vast wealth of instances at your disposal, you make surgical decisions as to what to include and then pin-point your points dramatically. And I love the cleanness of the form you choose to frame the whole. Neat, clean, "sanitised insanity"! What else is there to do but sleep? Very strong images and well-chosen, meticulously ordered, steps of progression. TY Kate xx
Axilea, I admire the decision to translate the complexity of your thought in a simplistic form rich in the structure of great poetry; i.e., the marvelous alliteration in the following:
yearn)
those re-creations
fake mechanic clatter
pose of plastic corpus
captivate you
with their precision
wireless syntony
First of all, the title. Very clever, and a great lead-in for the scene. The Great Paradox exists in the subsequent stanzas. I too see the irony of people insisting there's no god--that the world just exists, spontaneously, and all the while, they're playing God themselves--creating their own little worlds full of their own creations--temporary ones with only a tiny portion of the beauty that exists in the world created by a Greater Scientist than they can fathom. I've always been baffled by that paradox. The things we create last maybe a lifetime. Tick-tock. You can't take it with you. But the mind--the mind's forever. Very intelligent write. I like it. Can I have it? --Charlie
Reviewed by ~ H (Reader)
Reviewed on August 24, 2009
Axilea, your poetry is amazing as always...you have talents that I see some are jelous they do not posess. Keep writing my friend and know you are loved! xoxox Holly
Personal journals are full of potential, waiting for you to add the color! Pages for you to fill in the blanks with tidbits and trivia about North Dakota
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Ron
The last line sounds ominous, as in the opposite of being aware.
Interesting thoughts expressed elegantly. - David
yearn)
those re-creations
fake mechanic clatter
pose of plastic corpus
captivate you
with their precision
wireless syntony
-gene.
...and conTemporary in delivery, pared and pared down to essentials, deliberately skeletal and all the richer for that...and a soft landing.
John
fee