© Marie Marshall.
Some poetry/short story news.
Sweet Marie – much as I love your poetry – and I do – I really have to say that you and Mr. Gaggia should part company or at least take separate vacations. Or, you could build cabinets. I’m going to do some deep breathing now. T
Trying to figure out here whether you liked the bloody poem…
Perhaps this exchange could be translated for those of us who don’t speak your language… bahahahahaha!
No one can do that. We are Poto and Cabengo.
Yes, Sis… I do like the poem. I like it a lot.
Gorblimey… that’s a relief!
I really enjoyed this. Very well written!
Thank you. It came out – more or less – as a flood.
Marie, that was a sledgehammer. Thanks for waking me up! ;-D This is the longest poem of yours I have read and I think it encompasses far more than your fragments. There is a Fahrenheit 451 or 1984 height to this message. Struck me deeply. March on! Just keep an eye out for Big Brother! Eric
Thank you for naming two of my favourite dystopic novels. I think what was on my mind as I wrote was a glimmer of optimism about ‘people power’. I was remembering Tahrir Square, and recalling how, having ‘won’, the people simply cashed in all their spirit and handed over their power; the current rioting in Egypt is more like a people thrashing around blindly in a panic, with no clear idea of what they now need.
I read about and think about revolutions a lot, noting how, time after time, the popular motive power is allowed (by the revolutionaries themselves) to dissipate; to my mind it is this, more than force majeur, more than warlordism or a supposed ‘power vacuum’, that has brought about post-revolutionary ‘failure’. I even regard the American Revolution as a ‘failure’ – and it could have been so good! Big Brother should be dealt with as soon as you spot him – whether he comes on like Stalin and Mao, or in the guise of faceless political cliques or corporations.
JIngs! I hardly noticed I’d climbed onto my soap-box.
It is nice learning what goes on in another person’s noodle, Marie! You just go ahead and jump on that soapbox whenever you want to! Poetry is a soapbox in disguise.
It was easy in the mid-20th century to know who was truly evil and dangerous. Men like Hemingway and Orwell fought them with the pen and with the gun before the rest of the world did in Spain. Ironic how the Spanish Nazis lasted the longest.
I became a soldier in my youth because of writers like them and like Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. Writers and other artists have such influence. Couple that with the internet and it could be a powerful mixture to influence both good and evil. Now the enemy of the Cold War is no longer the enemy. It is a mad, mad, mad, mad world.
Yet, in later years, like Orwell and Hemingway, I have looked into the eyes of pure evil and so I know it. Evil still overtly and covertly walks the earth.
Yet I also believe as I have grown older that I have met the enemy and he is us (to quote the great philosopher Pogo).
Inventer of the eponymous stick?
Nice story images, but the jiggling of internals ( more mirrors than sinners), is exquisite and subtle. I love your small words too: mind spice!
More mirrors than sinners is it.
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