"This person is hardly sensible, / ..."

Hahahaha.


"... but what defense is?"

... ?

--
Comment, to get comments.
Share your kindness, not your hate.
Love the art, before yourself.

What is Corrence?

Making sense is a defense to things that cannot be understood via reason. Not all defenses are sensible.

--
" Too much symbolism annihilates the sublimated form, therefore no one mentions swans anymore."
-Noah Eli Gordon

Nyar, got that. I'm just laughing over how many people you know who fit this.

--
Comment, to get comments.
Share your kindness, not your hate.
Love the art, before yourself.

What is Corrence?

Heh, very true.. Though your "?" made me figure you misunderstood it.

--
" Too much symbolism annihilates the sublimated form, therefore no one mentions swans anymore."
-Noah Eli Gordon

Mn, more like wondering which one of us you were commenting on, actually, if not all. Or perhaps even life in general.

--
Comment, to get comments.
Share your kindness, not your hate.
Love the art, before yourself.

What is Corrence?

Umm...

Okay wait.

I feel like I just missed something important. Like after every line I felt like that.

I read what you said about the first two lines at least five times before I got it.

I can't possibly tackle such a task as trying to understand this, but I wish I could. What about a line-by-liner?

I am addicted to your poetry.

heh, good to hear. By a "line-by-liner" were you asking me to help ya understand this line for line, or offering to dissect it that way?

I got time for either I'll admit this one jumps around to ideas a lot more than it should, so it's probably missing a key portion in it that would make it all more understandable. It'd be nice to know how to fix part of that.

Though I'll say "missing something important, after ever line" is the way a lot of my poetry turns out, if only by accident.

--
" Too much symbolism annihilates the sublimated form, therefore no one mentions swans anymore."
-Noah Eli Gordon

Line-by-liner? Either way would work good for me. Hmm. Maybe some other day though, I just hit my computer curfew.

Hahah I'd probably end up going "huh?" for every line anyway. But remind me about this poem.

By popular demand.. heh, I give you a line by line, stanza-counted explanation. Given, it's just my interpretation of what's going on, so there's plenty of others to be had.

The second line of each stanza was more of a play on words of the prior line, but I tried to work in some explanation into it at least. 1=line 1, etc. Hopefully this is more easily understandable, I'll never know, heh.

This person is hardly sensible,
but what defense is?,
and all these passing desires rise and fall
without regard for aching understanding
lying at the foot of my stead
and watching the path erase.

1This person/mind makes no sense
2but we all have defenses in place
some are even against sensibility
3and desire, a counter to reason, rises
and falls in uses
4without regard for reason's desire to know all
5now made to rest on the sideroads
6and watch the understandings disappear.

This perception is graying away,
or however color fades,
and all the flickering seasons of I
die and resurrect,
asking for more from every action I take,
but what of the features already gaining ground?

1Life/Perception is losing its
black and white simplicity
2but the color is already gone
now it's all black, white or gray
3and all through the different perceptions of me
4each changing/dying and being reborn/altering
5asking more of my mindset and actions
6without reagard for the features
already becoming prominent in my life
--too centered on change, basically.

This person is made to dream,
feeling worrisome in streams,
and staring through to the side nose
pressed against my cheeks;
I want it to go on more articulate
than the last, begging for more words
to surround the generalities
of a foreplay pantomime.

1In opposition to reason/person
he's made to dream/experience the irrational
2feeling anxious by the motion of misunderstood things
3staring at the silhouette of a face
4pressed against my face
5i want to describe the feeling more articulate
6than i just did, or ever will,
7begging for more words to surround
the entirety of phrases that can't be concise
8like some foreplay that is pantomimed
incapable of being more than mute actions
without physical senses.

This perception is held by strings,
what past is lingering,
and I know every truth borrowed
makes more wrenching irritability
upon my monochromatic world,
playing for the black and whites
when huenoise is all I see.

1this life/perception is meekly held together
by ideas about as strong as strings would be
2sewn short by all the past encounters
3and all the truths i hold are borrowed
4which only serves to make me more anxious
about what i know to be true
5in my black and white world
6which isn't any better, since it's a play too,
7but i see in color/sounds, not black and white
which makes my eyes that much more troubled
and my mind, too.

This presence is not apathy,
discovering an emotional strategy,
and the search is miniscule
amongst the conduit that is my linguam,
holding words together with their reason
while I forget how to speak the next sentence.

1this physicality/presence isn't numb
2some tragedy meant to be emotional
3and understanding is passed over
4along the path to knowledge that is my language
5holding my meanings together
6while the experience alone
makes me forget how to speak at all

--
" Too much symbolism annihilates the sublimated form, therefore no one mentions swans anymore."
-Noah Eli Gordon