2 nights back I dreamt of asking the source if I could return, missing the unconditional love, I am here apparently saved from the wreckage. Excellent write!
L o v e i t !! Taking pleasure from your pain--? No, but. . .yeah, kinda. Such a pleasure to read a poem that is this well crafted.
B r a v o !!! 'Pea' <3
Reviewed by Kate Burnside
Reviewed on November 9, 2005
NeeNaa, NeeNaa... just you wait until the tracker dogs arrive and bright torch beams are shining in your eyes instead! This made me think of fevered sickness... but then, in my experience, most of those sensations have, in that case, to do with feeling burned up, not deathly cold - unless it's rigorous. Yet surgical wounding and emotional trauma can have these kinds of effects and are an "enforced bodily sickness" of sorts. Reminds me also of the helplessness felt in the recovery room after anaesthetic! Smacks also of the depression that can overtake "busy brain" sydrome, when the body finally rebels. Anyway, off as usual on me own whacky tangent, I'll quit playing doctor - though we can sometimes not do our bodies any favours by demanding they keep marching on when they have actually had enough - and play the metaphysical field instead: I go with the idea of enforced metamorphosis - though, to me this smacks of a more circumstantial than spiritual manifestation. Whatever plane this sits on, the wisdom to go with the flow will obviously take you to the next level of existance; not a death, as such, but a time of stillness and "sitting it out". This is not something our perpetually overstimulated cultures are good at, but necessary for personal growth or even survival sometimes. You write with great control and lucidity of this confused and disempowered state that you describe, Jude. Great extended metaphor. Detritus speaks to me of attrition, of gradual erosion rather than sudden impact, so perhaps that is a big clue - or question mark - that should point us in other directions. Hmmm, the sense of puzzlement reigns! Diagonosis therefore unclear, but I'm sure your prognosis is good! :)) TY Kate xx
I agree with Felix' comment. I was relieved to read that last stanza. Dreams of death often means a rebirth and perhaps in the drifting back into sleep the mystery will reveal itself. Great piece of work.
These images stir the fear of death in me and the only hope offered is that the drifting back to sleep will erase the images and insure it was all a dream. great piece of work Jude,
No worst state than that of feeling... detritus. Especially when one's being "gnawed" at and "crawled" over, unable to react and yet, very much alive. Extraordinary writing, dear Jude, but makes one hope to see you wake up soon from such nightmare... and fly away from it, into a dream of sun.
Love&Light*
Alexandra*
The wasting rubble of a effete Soul? Let the metamorphosis begin for there can be no silencing this uniquely creative voice.
Powerfully expressed, Jude.
Peace,
Carolyn
This makes my back pain and awful dreams seem mild. Sometimes we have to return to sleep just to avoid facing the agony. So much energy in this poem. Fabulous write
what? creatures crawling through you, slithering around and mating in your philosopher-poet brain? you've inspired them, too, I suppose. you go on and dream of being saved, Jude, but I'd lay odds its you that's doing something of the saving in these strange surroundings of planet Earth. by tomorrow, I'm sure you'll be a rocket man again. really not meaning to be flip. take care, Dawn
Forensic entomology uses flies and other insects to determine how, where, and when you died. There is a specific pattern in the decomposition of your body.
One insect comes to feed on you soon after your death, then another comes when your body decomposes a little bit, and so on. By looking at which insects are feeding on your corpse, investigators pinpoint the time of your death by what developmental stage the insects are in.
When your flesh has been eaten and the insects are gone, your exoskeleton they leave behind reveals the season of your death. The investigators conclude that you have been dead about 279 hours, the maximum time it takes a pupa to reach this stage.
Detritus: material washed or worn off from a solid substance: mass of disintegrated material.
Newspaper article turns this all around. Headlines: JUDE FORESE FROZEN IN TIME: CRYOGENICS FUSES POETIC PHILOSOPHER TO RULE THE WORLD. MAN AND HIS BRAIN SOLID AND TRUE, PROPELS FOR A BETTER WORLD. END OF STORY!
Sage
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on November 8, 2005
Jude Jude Jude of the jungle watch out for that tree...
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Ron
B r a v o !!! 'Pea' <3
I know the feeling well, but this is a marvelously powerful piece.
Carmen :-)
Felix
Love&Light*
Alexandra*
Love Tinks
Powerfully expressed, Jude.
Peace,
Carolyn
you'll be "under the sun" that should save you...
One insect comes to feed on you soon after your death, then another comes when your body decomposes a little bit, and so on. By looking at which insects are feeding on your corpse, investigators pinpoint the time of your death by what developmental stage the insects are in.
When your flesh has been eaten and the insects are gone, your exoskeleton they leave behind reveals the season of your death. The investigators conclude that you have been dead about 279 hours, the maximum time it takes a pupa to reach this stage.
Detritus: material washed or worn off from a solid substance: mass of disintegrated material.
Newspaper article turns this all around. Headlines: JUDE FORESE FROZEN IN TIME: CRYOGENICS FUSES POETIC PHILOSOPHER TO RULE THE WORLD. MAN AND HIS BRAIN SOLID AND TRUE, PROPELS FOR A BETTER WORLD. END OF STORY!
Sage
Ignite a flare. Light a fire. But never despair!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)