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descending into hell.
by Jared Fladelandlike a razor pitched scream
i embrace a thousand million little insects and worms, rotting the inside out.
tender ripples in the flesh drip tongues, wagging for the dead soldiers,
grease filled, eyeless, doubtful, religious or not so much politicians,
and a gazillion different twists of company that I feel like I should bow my head
in the sea of criminal behavior.
you want to hear about pain?
think about watching a silver drop of blood pooling below your face,
and you wonder where all this mortal fluid comes from,
but monkeys in parachutes keep laughing at me
as they keep bashing the brains in of some unsuspecting victim.
I think it's me.
I have seen hell, and it isn't red. it isn't fiery.
it's an extreme fuschia and it's dead silent. The kind of silent
that makes your ear drums feel like they're being pulled out of your head
because the lack of pressure's making your head flip inside out.
with a razor pitched scream
I embrace. 08/07/2006 Author's Note: if i were ever to write my own version of "The Inferno", this would be my rough outline
Posted on 08/07/2006
Copyright © 2024 Jared Fladeland
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 08/11/06 at 05:46 PM Well somehow we seem to be our own worst enemies, "with a razor pitched scream
I embrace" - and we do indulge in pain and misery, some of us becoming addicts. Nature doesn't care a bit about the individual LIFE or what kind of "hell" he experiences, so long as he procreates for its own obscure purpose, unknown to us. Indeed this piece is vivid and having read Dante's Inferno it is evident the extent to which our own associations play into the scenario's of our own personal "hells". The last line clenches it for me..."I embrace" - for what dreams (or nightmares) are known are still safer and more comforting than what remains unknown, so we do embrace. That's what I saw in this. Nicely done. |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 08/12/06 at 04:22 AM Well, Liberation is a process of deliberation from our pasts which tends to LIVE in the present, turning every moment of life, that we could BE and live, into a virtual hell. Well, all those who ought to be buried starts living in our back yards, walking in and out, permeating our world. We ought to learn to embrace life which is here delinking our moments from the past which is dead. |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 08/14/06 at 11:02 PM Certainly everyone's version of hell is different and yours is as vivid as all the demons that plague any person. The circular form of enclosing the poem's first and last lines makes the hell created inescapeable, although I'm sure many would hope for just that. One suggestion is in S4 & S6 change the "you's" to "I's" and "me's" to make it more personal. Yes, you're telling someone else about this, but it's your own nightmarish descent. I'm just glad I'm not there. ;-)
~Chelle~ |
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