I don’t think I can allow you to sedate me
whoever you are – actually -
you offered me a plastic unicorn
a dream come true
in washable form – unfortunately -
degraded and yet left
between these two hands
that read Braille in the dark.
And all the while
flashing above my head
myths of yesterday…
In the green room the only noise
is your obedience to the media
smooth and educated lies abound
but I close the door and sit alone
I don’t think I can allow you to sedate me.
Sleep has fallen
like hybrid tears of me and you
-- it has fallen from my eyes
from a broken computer screen --
dazzled vision of buzzing bulbs
shocks and neons in a mystic dream
till confusion brushed my hushed senses --
a flash on the highway nothing more
then everything went back to normal
and if not, it’s because I found something better.
I was invited to rest in the gardens
of Amaurot for a while
and in my state, I can’t refuse Utopia
although reality runs through my veins
and keeps me awake;
I don’t think you can ever sedate me.
I like the innocent/trusting feel in the beginning of this poem. That sense seems to evolve during the poem. Maybe some illusions have been lost along the way? Thought-provoking. Great writing, Axilea.
Sheila
My mind runs with the Hermetic... Hermes, the messenger of the gods (so often the little ones, the annoying ones!) and of sleep. It makes me think of Dorothy in Oz, too, knowing her desired destination but aware of the wiles of the wicked witch of the east and knowing she has to resist the urge to lie down and sleep in the intoxicating fields en route. It could also be a metaphor for dangerous apathy, of the frog who has grown too accustomed to warm waters that keep rising in temperature. Mostly I think of the porous membranes of the mind which cease to be able to function or perform any sort of osmosis once a certain equilibrium or water-table has been reached or breached. So many thoughts, all of which are probably way off the mark. Thank you for the challenge of leaving us with such open-ended writing. It takes literary boldness not to force an interpretation or conclusion upon the reader. xx
John, Amaurosis is, indeed a form of blindness and as it is sometimes a side effect of diabetes, I've heard it from my father who is being treated for the condition. In Thomas More, the etymology of the word, as explained by Kalikiano, is used to express total darkness, a shadowy place in the luminous perfection of Utopia. Amaurot is indeed a city of Utopia. It is a clever concept indeed and that is why I used this reference to Thomas More. Its interpretation, of course, is up to the reader.
Thank you for your interest, and for sharing your thoughts; it feels great and inspiring.
Amaurot: (Greek, the shadowy or unknown place), the chief city in Utopia (no-place), a political novel by Sir Thomas More. Rabelais, in his Pantagruel, had previously introduced the word, and tells us that the Amaurots conquered the Dipsodes (or Duplicians).
Source: Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, E. Cobham Brewer, 1894
Very erudite similie, Auxilea, and right now I NEED some erudite word-mongery of clever construct! I enjoyed this, as I do all manifestations of thoughtfully symbolic cognition by aesthetes of the XX persuasion (although I myself am generally unworthy of such displays of stimulating intelligence). Aloha mai e, Kaliki
Axilea,
As you know, amaurosis is a form of blindness caused by damage to the optic nerve, and in real life I have more than a touch of it; you've chosen to truncate the adjective, amaurotic, for your title and that is more than clever, it's very astute and apt in our current state of conceptualization and in your sharp and focused poetic vision...no sedation here.
Believe it or not, I was reading Utopia this morning, as I received an e-mail just an hour or two ago detailing the list of books our club was to discuss this year. I'd never read it before then... so, to have you write about Amaurot was once again, synchronicity. So here's excerpt in the book about the city, should anyone care to review: http://oregonstate.edu/instruct/phl302/texts/more/utopia-towns.html
I love your plastic unicorn-- so blah compared to the dream. No, after seeing and experiencing the fruition of a beautiful dream, you cannot be sedated. At least not anymore in that regard. --Charlie
Strong and deeply revealing of the author's heart and character. Humanity and reality don't always coincide and often we need to put reality on hold to touch perfection in a dream. Well done.
hugs
fee
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Sheila
I can’t refuse Utopia
although reality runs through my veins
and keeps me awake
-gene.
as always your thoughts are beyond...
Art Sun...
Ron
Thank you for your interest, and for sharing your thoughts; it feels great and inspiring.
Source: Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, E. Cobham Brewer, 1894
Very erudite similie, Auxilea, and right now I NEED some erudite word-mongery of clever construct! I enjoyed this, as I do all manifestations of thoughtfully symbolic cognition by aesthetes of the XX persuasion (although I myself am generally unworthy of such displays of stimulating intelligence). Aloha mai e, Kaliki
As you know, amaurosis is a form of blindness caused by damage to the optic nerve, and in real life I have more than a touch of it; you've chosen to truncate the adjective, amaurotic, for your title and that is more than clever, it's very astute and apt in our current state of conceptualization and in your sharp and focused poetic vision...no sedation here.
John
Regis
I love your plastic unicorn-- so blah compared to the dream. No, after seeing and experiencing the fruition of a beautiful dream, you cannot be sedated. At least not anymore in that regard. --Charlie
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
hugs
fee
Be always safe,
Karen
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"