Death is an emphasis.
Have you ever wanted something so desperately, you would rather die than go without?
People say love is this way. They would rather die than lose love, or to have no chance at it. Love is greater than death… death is merely emphasis. Death is not an end. It is a means to describing the power of an emotion.
Death is never an end.
There is breathing, there is beating, there is blood and there are tears and there is sweat and burns and scars. But death is none of those. Each of those is an end. Each of those is a suffering that has broken, and will pass, and is the end – of something – of repression, of danger, of anger or frustration or exertion or living hell. Death is not what happens when the breathing breaks. Death is not surrender. Death is only emphasis; a lens unto the end of the gasping or the surging or the breaking or the crying or the steadfast watchkeeping over the darkness of despair. Death is no sharp intake of breath, no resuscitated heart. It is the predication of these things; it is the foundation of their meaning. It is a screen unto them. It mercilessly, dutifully displays suffering upon pain upon agony… in lockstep with the ticking film reel your mind collects to memory, in synchrony with the music of your age and the tune of your heart.
Death is with us always.
Death is in the earth you walk on; it is clinging to your footsteps. Death is in your bloodstream; is peeling from your skin. It is falling from your upper lip in cascades of mites so small a pinhead could hold a thousand. It is your sheath; it is before your eyes; it is your veil; it is your shadow. It is the entry to existence; it is the key to creation. It is the essence of every success, it is the core of every soul, it is the boundary of every limit – death is the force that spins in tumult upon the edges of every barrier you break and every heart you touch, it is the strange silence that trails away with every note of every song you sing and the light emptiness that tapers at the end of every stroke of every brush and every pen; it is the relief you feel after you run and the surprise that takes you when you fall. Death is in everything that is done and all that you do. It is in the sigh behind each breath you breathe and it is the weight that pulls your lids each time you blink.
We are not alive except for death. There is no death except for life. Only with both may we ever come to understand the beauty and pain and glory and debauchery of ourselves, our world, our reality.
One could say the world ends with you.
The world ends with the end of life, with death – it ends when death is perceived no more, when the surgings and screamings and laughings and weepings; the gnashings and tearings and beatitudes and joys that accompany it… no longer reach you.
Death is our color and our counterpart. It is what you are when you are sleeping, how you know you are awake. It is you.
Death ends with you.
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125,029 Literary Works • 672,781 Reviews
Thank God this was a poem! Because objectively, I would argue with most of your views stated, on the point of logic and more. However, never mind that. Now to review.
Theme/Message: Well, it is quite obvious in this poem. However, what I look at is the style of the message and I have to say, it is unique. It takes a good writer, to take a largely common topic and present it in a different (and unconventional) perspective. You've done this and you did it with style and confidence. On the down side, let's look at complexity. The world is filled with so many people of average minds and it is your job to know how to communicate your views to people of various level of intelligence. People will never confidently review anything they don't understand; some won't even review at all! You have to learn how to play with complexity in writing so that your message can appeal to the understanding of majority of readers.
Voice: It is confident and rattles on with strength. It gives the reader a feeling that the writer (that is you) is in his niche. It is clear and almost takes an advisory tone and seems to give an outsider's perspective to the topic.
Word choice/ Structure: The poem should just be a dramatic essay. You've also managed to combine an objective tone, subjective tone and dramatic tone all together. The word choice is unique and there is a sweet atmosphere created as you play with your words. The sentences literally dance in my mind as I read the words. No break, no unexpected interruption to the rhythm of this dance!
Imagery: Sadly, the subtle complexity of the poem saps (so softly) the beauty of the images in the poem; as a part of our brain that assimilates your poem wrestles with the part that creates the images. Thus, for me imagination wrestles with logic! However, no worries, there are still notable moments of beautiful imagery in the 2nd and 3rd paragraph.
All in all, it was an enjoyable read with fresh insight to an unspoken common topic. I have seen into your mind and I enjoy its complexity. It is emotionally satisfying to identify with someone I can relate to. Thank you for this.
Tend your flame! Temi
I love it, love it, love it. It is dark, but it has real truth in it too. Not many people can put death so completely in a story/poem. But this>> does.
Death is with us always.
Death is in the earth you walk on; it is clinging to your footsteps. Death is in your bloodstream; is peeling from your skin. It is falling from your upper lip in cascades of mites so small a pinhead could hold a thousand. It is your sheath; it is before your eyes; it is your veil; it is your shadow. It is the entry to existence; it is the key to creation. It is the essence of every success, it is the core of every soul, it is the boundary of every limit – death is the force that spins in tumult upon the edges of every barrier you break and every heart you touch, it is the strange silence that trails away with every note of every song you sing and the light emptiness that tapers at the end of every stroke of every brush and every pen; it is the relief you feel after you run and the surprise that takes you when you fall. Death is in everything that is done and all that you do. It is in the sigh behind each breath you breathe and it is the weight that pulls your lids each time you blink.
Honestly, i wish i could have made something like this myself, but i know i couldn't. Great job.
Thank you. But you flatter me. I doubt, if you appreciated this piece, that you couldn't "ma[k]e something like this" yourself. It would not be this piece, sure. But that does not mean it wouldn't be excellent in its own right.
Be forever hortatory,
~Skorlir