Stranger Borne From Ego

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There came a time once
long ago, through future,
present and past. He moved
his name was known, his
talent refined. With agressive
ease and astounding cleave.
A decade was reformed.

Many names he was known
many claims were brought
but of those you can say
were are of naught.
His name was old but
new. He spoke little
yet much. History met
him day in and day out
through battle fields of
valour to wars and revolutions.

Dictactors knew him
kings worshipped him
Religion call for him.
books spoke of his greatness
lands feared his rage
children hated him
Statues were built to him
but he thrived on inaccuracies
and fallacies. He lived for lies
and propaganda.

Living through ages
and millenia, he struck
with a pen and razed
history, with
undeniable strengh.

Erasing, robbing
eating and ridding.

He still lives to this
day, battles are forever
unknown, people forever
forgotten, we can thank
him we can hate him,
but he'll never not
exist.

Today he stands
a testament to
our ego.

The Rewriter.
We get off to the rhythm of the trigger and destruction. Fallujah to New Orleans with impunity to kill. We are the hidden fist of the free market.
We are the ink, we are the quill.
[The Ink And The Quill (Be Afraid) - Anti-Flag]




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Hey, GPS here as requested. I honestly can't find anything wrong with it. You may want to split up the paragraphs though.
I'm not a poem person, so sorry that this review sucked.
I liked this, so I'm starring it too.
Just another quack spouting psychobabble.

"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."




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Hey, I really liked the theme of this. It's reminiscent of the archetype put forth in Autumn of the Patriarch by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Actually my kind of poem; I'm a sucker for any mention of ego. Actual ego that is, in all of its terrible implications. I can't comment on form because I frankly have no idea what form is. :lol: Anyway, keep up the freethinking.
"Is", "is." "is" — the idiocy of the word haunts me. If it were abolished, human thought might begin to make sense. I don't know what anything "is"; I only know how it seems to me at this moment. -Robert Anton Wilson




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I liked this poem and the way it was written and all. There was a minor spelling problem with strength in stanza 4 but other than that i didnt catch anything grammar wise. Anyhu the poem did make me think. Though I had read the title i had forgotten it in the beginning of reading the actual poem and began making predictions on who exactly this person was. From the words I came up with several theories in a matter of minutes. I though of Hitler, Jesus and several others but in the end i must say i was baffled. I can understand the 'stranger' part of the title. But the last line simply threw me off. If you don't mind explaining what's behind it if its not too much trouble. I would really like to understand.
"I know why the caged bird sings" ~ Maya Angelou
*Dream_Catcher*




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The Rewriter.


I hope you don't mind if I just take a crack at the meaning of this line for you. It means rewriter of history, of events of any kind to accomodate what the ego feels their divine significance should be, in relation to the "magnanimous destiny" all great egos feel compelled to tout in order to get the masses raving.

Or so I figure.
"Is", "is." "is" — the idiocy of the word haunts me. If it were abolished, human thought might begin to make sense. I don't know what anything "is"; I only know how it seems to me at this moment. -Robert Anton Wilson




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Exactly! Glad someone understood this :).History is always written by the victors, that for ages we thought the celts were a savage people etc. So, yep you were right :).
We get off to the rhythm of the trigger and destruction. Fallujah to New Orleans with impunity to kill. We are the hidden fist of the free market.
We are the ink, we are the quill.
[The Ink And The Quill (Be Afraid) - Anti-Flag]




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Gender Female
Points 982
Reviews 97
Hey again!

First, it seems like the stanzas are not as organized as most poems, and should be a little less run-on. Again, break it up a little, but you knew I'd say that. But I did like how rulers worshipped him and children hated him. It didn't became clear until the end, but it was all cleared up by then so it tied everything together. Nice.

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You have to be a bit of a liar to tell a story the right way.
— Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind