Exsanguination in the darkest of alleyways, where only a flickering sputter of light permeates the afterthoughts of rats and those who've long since distanced themselves from the at-large biddings of incorporated vampires and conglomerated succubi.
The temptation to scream is ever prevalent. Yet inactivity has rendered you mute. Dissociation has severed your linguistic abilities clean and deep. You sit in the corners and alcoves. You've done it for so long you remember no other way, you are invisible to the passers by and even when noticed, there isn't much left of who you once were. It's hard to fathom that this is the same person we all once knew so well. And to see you here, in such a state, I have to wonder what could've gone so terribly wrong to pen your conclusion in such a way.
and I can't help but think,
that penicillin is everywhere.
Found dead on 5th and 43rd. A situation that easily should've been avoided.
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oh heck yes...it should not happen, yet it does...you never know what brought them there...becoming invisible, the hopelessness is the saddest..
ReplyDeletefor me your last line is the kicker...a situation that easily could have been avoided...
ReplyDeleteand how often that becomes true in our own lives....
ReplyDeleteWell, I learned about succubi -- I will do a poem on them sometime and of those who refer to dead unknown myths -- thanx.
ReplyDeleteSo I imagine the fellow cut out his tongue. I searched Google news but could not find a recent story, but YELP tells me of lots of restraunts near NYC 43rd and 5th -- so I can imagine the rats.
DAMN, searching I find that Downton's Lady Sybil bit her tongue and .....
It would have been fun if you shared what inspired this poem.
My colleague's 19 year-old son was just found dead with drugs on board -- yet no one every knew him to drink or use drugs. When someone dies and we can't imagine how they got to that point, it is startling -- but probably not to the person who died.
Sad poem. Well, I don't really understand it though. Don't know who the "You" is. And certainly don't get the penicillin line.
Haha, yeah, I love how you do so much research into the literal meanings of poetry. Just a heads up, most of my work has zero literal meaning. I think thinks up and put them down. But, that said, there is symbolism to the title and cross-streets in this piece. Obviously the allusion to the 43rd and 5th street intersect in NYC is there, but deeper, the fifth amendment and I recently was reading up on Gematria and came across a word HLE which means to be sick, and how in Gematria it comes out to 43 numerically. you is this character who is sick, in both the literal and metaphoric sense, he left the "normal" world for reasons not quite known, yet somewhat is alluded to mental illness. He lives on the streets and has lost his ability to "be" he just is in the state he is, and it's sad because he's left everything behind, he's like an animal who runs away when they feel their time is near, yet it could've been avoided for certain.
DeleteThe penicillin reference has to do with it being at one time the "cure all" prescription of doctors. So it has a real/facetious unity in this piece. and yeah, I love mythical creatures and succubi and incubi, the male and female versions of the similar beast, are two of my favorites, as its been told that they can literally suck one's life force out. If you're into creatures, I recommend the Carol Rose encyclopedias for one, and there are some neat websites that appear in searches as well. Thanks for the response. The story of your colleagues son is sad, the surprise of not knowing what is there undetected is startling to find out after the point. I had a similar friend who disappeared for three months, no returned calls, no one that knew him had heard from him, even his mother gave me a call wondering If I had talked to him. We all of course thought the worst, but turns out he somehow got himself addicted to drugs and had put himself into rehab. The thing about it was that he was always the one guy that was anti intoxication in our group of friends. He never would drink when out and actually was pretty outspoken about not doing anything to alter one's mental focus, so it was indeed startling. Thanks again
So very sad to read about such a death. To me this evokes a street person sitting in his usual place so long that he has become totally invisible. Hard life; sad humanity (or lack of).
ReplyDeleteYeah you would think it would be easily avoidable but then some people can't or won't take care of themselves which just makes things worse.
ReplyDeleteOutstanding Fred: putting me in mind of Cosmopolis but i reaaly get the feeling
ReplyDeleteof an authentic, visceral
drive that awards the words a sense of natural character and instant emotional feedback
with the subject/writer/reader loop
or maybe thats a triangle. . .
this is tough stuff
rendered readable by poetic
articulation
cheers fred
How sad...
ReplyDeleteVery moving piece, Fred, it brings to mind a book I read for young adults called Skellig. A young man found a dusty dried up angel in a shed. Moves me because I have many loved people in various stages of recovery and fear what you write of...(no literal translation intended)...I love the verse...
ReplyDeleteI like how a lot of your poetry speaks to important issues.
ReplyDeleteMan, this was dark and so sad. Yet, it was a solid write. The homeless are sometimes found this way. And sometimes, it's a well-dressed executive, rolled in an alley. But I saw only somebody's child, ruined by the gradual degradation of a life that could have been better. You really touched me. Thanks for stopping by my blog, or I would not have seen this. Peace, Amy
ReplyDeletehttp://sharplittlepencil.com/2013/01/31/chanteuse-in-sneakers/
As I read this, I thought it could be about someone sitting in a cubicle (on 5th and 43rd) all day long...doing the same thing day in, day out...invisible...dying inside. Interesting how life can mimic dying...right?
ReplyDelete