for me, the title's the key,
the significance of the separated L;
is spirit the vital separation from the (mere) animal,
the distinguishing facility?
yes, we are animals that write poetry and symphonies,
build cathedrals and bridges...and wage terrible
unnecessary wars
'where there is great achievement there is also
great error' Pontius Pilate

take good care, Axilea,

john

Captured my containment of myself in your poem. Sometimes I feel alone, I embrace and I despise it. I know I'm not alone in feeling alone. Is there togetherness there. It is too late for me to be trying to be deep.

how I'd like to
reach some dimension
beyond "your" walls

We are all prisoners of our own perceptions and anima-ted dreams that are often as alien to us as our own animal understandings of our deeper, "unknown" selves. I've a short manuscript of character-study poems which I have titled WHO ZOO and maybe it's this resonance I feel with your urban landscape, peopled by those whose ability to reason and articulate may be curtailed by lack of shared language and utterance, whose lives are "barred" from each other by our/their own perceptions of being walled-in... or, indeed, locked out. This wrangles and jangles marvellously, Axilea, and as always I'm in deep admiration of how you are so bold with speculative concepts, allusion and ellipses of thought. I love your vivid expressions of what is often very difficult to conceptualise let alone give voice to. And, as always, your voice is your very own. Great stuff! :) xx

Your words awaken thoughts and emotions, Axilea; most meaningful and expressive. Thank you for sharing. Love and best wishes to you,

Regis

Axilia, we are prisoners of our own making. The barriers we perceive are painted upon the backs of our eyes, nowhere else. We glance in the mirror to compare the image we view in comparison to the one painted in our psyche. We adjust the perception routinely out of human ignorance to ensure we do not stray from our self painted image. Thus the dream, and the inevitable absolute landscapes, always stretched to the vanishing point. May love and peace be always with you my dear friend. Jon Michael

I enjoyed reading this-excellent thoughts

Great poem. I love those crushed berries on the "urban stave", showing up all bloody against the black and white backdrop. There too are stripes all over--in the bars, in the zebra print, the cage, and I see the author as a crushed strawberry, perhaps a bleeding quarter note, shaking horizontal staff lines in a desperate attempt to bring to life a fading melody (dream?).

Question: Does taping your thoughts to your legs help? Sounds intriguing. --Charlie

Axilea, What is real and what is an illusion?

Always,

Deborah

in visibility comes vulnerability, stretched tight, like a canvass of alienation, dabbed with just enough familiarity to breed a comfortable contempt of conformity where the raw, unmitigated realism of residence gives way to the turbid temerity of human bondage and the bone-crushing banality of terminological contracts whose fine print cancels all but the most obligatory familiarity until even the minutia is consumed by irony and the point is laid bare as the death mask of your strange animal.

Your poem, Axilea, is the stuff of which legends are made.
Excellence takes time, does it not?

Roger

Well written and much enjoyed Axilea :)

Love and Light
Lily

The DNA Genome Project proved...we are not
as far away from the...Genetic ZOO...as we'd like
to think, but the ..."hand clasped on iron bars:
No escape!"....why worry yourself...where is a will
there is a way....Axilea.
The existence in a Gigantic Hologram produced
an inspiring, excellent poem!...proved...the objective
reality does not exist. The illusion appears real.
With warm regards Isabella.

~Axilea~
Illusions..soul stretched to vanishing point.
Excellent writing.

Lady Mary Ann

Your poem reeks of hopelessness and despair from being tied to that which you cannot escape. Your point is well taken and understood.

Ron

VERY NICE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

In many ways we're not so far evolved from our animal ways in the real scope of things, which is it's ow self a paradox,and the few of us [poets] have the audacity to question the seemingly reality we exist/live in ...and so we pace on paper back and forth.

Axilea I think you are the Queen of thought provoking poems,nice work.

very well penned i enjoyed this
budd

What a dream you painted here...it is nearly organized chaos orchestrated by the precise paintbrush you used. Absolutely fantastic, Axilea

this reads like a unsettling dream, Captured in a zoo like existence. interesting and compelling!

I like your work Axilea. This one paints clear images of a human mind seen from within by an alien entity. The only thing I don't like is the varying number of lines per verse, which I always find jarring and which distracts me from the vision of the poet. Of course, that's just personal taste! Still, few people of any sort create a vision so clear and so unique, forming a crystal window into the soul and imagination of the poet. I really like it!