Thanatos-Carnal

[sparr0w]

K, this ones a little darker than what I usually write, but I'm experimenting a little bit these days. As always, let me know what you think, even if you don't like it. Peace- Chris

There were many people
gathered in the square
when the authorities
rolled out the gallows.
The smell of new blood
and the anticipation of something morbid
had drawn them in like sharks.
Their seperation from the accused
gave them a false sense of superiority.
"The spotlight has not yet fallen upon me.
Surely I am the better man".
The tramps brought with them
their favorite wines.
They looked forward to these events
as for that one day
they were treated almost human,
for the lines had been re-drawn
and they fell for once within the majority,
The "innocent".
Mothers brought their children,
and the children brought their curiosity.
The men brought their animosity,
drooling and barking like dogs.
The children immitate their fathers,
and soon the moral majority
becomes a chaotic mass of panting beasts,
growing angry in their restlessness
beneath the afternoon sun.
At last, a murmur arose
from somewhere in the back of the crowd,
followed by a rolling wall of white noise.
A thousand voices made indistinguishable
by a thousand voices.
At long last,
the prisoner was being led out
to mount his stage.
The man stared out into the crowd
in search of some empathy,
some earthly comfort in this his last moment,
but he found none.
Instead he found laughter.
Instead they threw food at him
and insulted him
and spit on him
and called him a heathen.
"Will this be my legacy?
Is this what I will be remembered for?
Have I brought none but shame to my familys name"?
Many thoughts went through his head
as they dropped the rope around his neck,
gently at first,
and then pulled tightly into place.
His stomach turned
and he vomited violently.
He shook and cried and pleaded his accusers for mercy.
Mercy, which he was never granted.
After all, mercy would have meant
the cancellation of the afternoons entertainment.

[PrinceMyshkin]

There were many people gathered in the square when the authorities rolled out the gallows. The smell of new blood and the anticipation of something morbid had drawn them in like sharks. Their separation from the accused gave them a false sense of superiority.

"The spotlight has not yet fallen upon me. Surely I am the better man".

The tramps brought with them their favorite wines. They looked forward to these events as for that one day they were treated almost human, for the lines had been re-drawn and they fell for once within the majority, The "innocent". Mothers brought their children, and the children brought their curiosity. The men brought their animosity, drooling and barking like dogs. The children imitate their fathers, and soon the moral majority becomes a chaotic mass of panting beasts, growing angry in their restlessness beneath the afternoon sun.

At last, a murmur arose from somewhere in the back of the crowd, followed by a rolling wall of white noise. A thousand voices made indistinguishable by a thousand voices. At long last, the prisoner was being led out to mount his stage. The man stared out into the crowd in search of some empathy, some earthly comfort in this his last moment, but he found none. Instead he found laughter. Instead they threw food at him and insulted him and spit on him and called him a heathen.

"Will this be my legacy? Is this what I will be remembered for? Have I brought none but shame to my family's name"?

Many thoughts went through his head as they dropped the rope around his neck, gently at first, and then pulled tightly into place. His stomach turned and he vomited violently. He shook and cried and pleaded his accusers for mercy. Mercy, which he was never granted. After all, mercy would have meant the cancellation of the afternoon's entertainment.

The point being here is that strangeness is the nature of things.

[sparr0w]

Umm... Okay.... what happened here?

[lucidnightmares]

maybe quoted by accident or something??
this is weird because it seems to go almost perfectly with my favorite Opeth album Still Life.
i enjoyed it, very entertaining to read.
the malice we hide within our hearts leaks out all too often, especially back then.

they way i see it, we should learn from the past and never commit these crimes again, live and let live kind of thing.
we should all set good examples for the youth.
empathy is something to b embraced, for it makes us more human than most.
well that`s just what i get from it anyway`s.

by the way as far as the title goes, thanatos is a death god isn`t it?
and carnal refers to carnival maybes?
haha i`m only guessing, but i really like the title, it adds alot the poem.

haha my ceiling is leaking, just alittle though, water trickles down the wall, and now after reading, i can`t help but see it as red.
funny how things work i guess.

this was different in a refreshing way, allways nice to change alittle, and as you said we learn alot from the changes we make.

[sparr0w]

Lucid- Thanks for the comment! yeah, I'm not sure what happened there with Prince. Im sure it was some kind of mistake, as he's a nice guy and not prone to sarcasm... Anyways, about the title, yes, Thanatos was a greek god, but I was using it the way Freud used it. You see, Freud saw peoples thoughts and actions as being a competition betwee two primal forces in the human mind... Libidos and Thanatos. Libidos is the part of us that wants to create things (thus the english term "libido" as meaning sex drive), and Thanatos being the opposite, the drive to destroy things. As far as Carnal goes, I was origionally thinking of naming this either Carne-val, a mexican holiday literally meaning "feast of the flesh" (which is actually seen as your oppertunity to get all of your sinning out of your system before lent), but went with Thanatos-Carnal, which to me means Carnal (or brutal, animalistic) Thanatos (drive to destroy). Good question! Now, I'm going to check out your new one... Peace

[sparr0w]

Oh, and Lucid, No, I've never heard of Opeth. I looked them up, and to be honest, not quite what I listen to. I listen to blues, improv jazz, classical, folk, and jam (string cheese, phish, the dead, etc). You scared me for a minute, but now. I have never heard of them. Not much for death metal personally.

[symphony]

i like the prose version of it more. may be thats what Prince implied.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Umm... Okay.... what happened here?

Much as I dislike the grim-faced parsing of what poetry is or ought to be, what I saw here was prose - good prose - mucked up by what felt like arbitrary line-breaks. Rather than enhancing the thoughts, adding emphasis or wit, these line breaks were like someone's elbow poking me in the ribs as I tried to attend to the development of an interesting theme. The thoughts were interesting, that is; the way they were presented detracted from that.

[Pendragon]

sparrOw: I am going to have to be brutally honest, Prince is right. I have had this happen to me from magazine editors, so do not feel ashamed. I have had some of my poems here given this same treatment.

Line breaks do not make a poem. Flow makes a poem. There's not a thing wrong with your piece as prose. It holds the power of the moment, the uncaring of the crowd, the fear and hopelessness of the prisoner, and the reality that he might go free--ah, but that would ruin what everyone wants to see in their hate-filled, what's-another-life-as-long-as-it-isn't-me minds. They actually bring their children to watch a man being hanged! It's horrible! It's shocking! And you get it across well.

But not as a poem, sorry. The flow is not there. I'm sorry.

[sparr0w]

Thanks everyone. Yeah, form is a big problem for me, I must admit. At the risk of sounding conceited, I think I'm really good with words, but when it comes down to form and presentation, I have alot to learn. I dropped out of high school when I was 16, and for the short time I did go, I had no interest in anything but partying and acting like a moron. It wasn't until a couple years later that I started wanting to learn things (almost obsessively), and it wasn't until then that I started figuring out how to translate the thoughts and images that have always been in my head into words. I really appreciate the feedback, all. Of course, like anyone else, I like that ego boost you get when someone praises your work, but to me, as I really would like to be a professional writer at some point (I know it's a long shot, but it's the only thing I'm good at), I really appreciate any oppertunity to learn. That's the main reason I started posting here, was to learn through the constructive criticism of fellow writers. Some day, I will be able to afford to go back to school and take classes and such, but in the meantime, this place is my classroom. I've been doing "street readings" and poetry slams for years, but I know little about the right way to put together something for print. Again, many many thanks. This motivates me to rethink the form of others I've written over the years. Peace! -Chris

[PrinceMyshkin]

Something I admire about you is your openness and lack of defensiveness, that you are so willing - even eager - to learn. As for acquiring a stronger sense of the uses of form re poetry, read poems in a variety of places, from a contemporary anthology, here, on other sites. Don't try to emulate forms that you like but trust that you will acquire an organic sense of it of your own.