#1
From Rome.



This is a long distance fall,
this is an absence of thought,
elusive resuscitation and compassion thereof.
The cry of a wounded lion
and the call from an agitated woman
(she looked like a sister).
She dragged the children through the disfigured pastures
singing the serpentine song of salvation
while beseeching the dead sands.
They walk in rags as a marred generation;
the purgatorial flesh or a manner of excursion
through the land of grace
beneath the placid earth.
As I looked at her I saw forgetfulness approaching-
staring into blank space, and spoke:
“This is the wilderness of stagnancy,
I am wounded by fear.
I have dreamt of this before
I have dealt with the consequences;
I will use small words, I will shed my lips.”
Her voice began to resonate:
“My friend, the river has already dried for me;
the household is raging
and my desires remain still.
I eat with lepers, and gather the crumbs for the children
spawned from my shortcomings; they serve no purpose.
I pray for God to have mercy on us
I, who am here- what I perceive
no one will make me rearrange;
no one will save me.
The spirit of hindrance
I barricade it with iniquity and the presence
of fire. These are the days of miracles and wonders;
ancient of days at last I have found relief.”
I was perplexed by what I was hearing;
she was exasperated by the oppression
with a face that needed healing,
with a mind that was vulnerable.
I said to her, “It will continue no longer;
you shall destroy the stronghold.”
She laughed, “Don’t talk to me falsely,
I am no longer among the pastor’s flock,
I have already drank the poison- my faith is gone.
Don’t talk to me falsely about the land of the living
and of the dead; I remain homeless.
Agents of nakedness and poverty
you are no longer my masters;
your instruments are disembarked.

“My son, I was told to get up early
to appease the morning voice,
I have pronounced my will
to excavate my sins
and crucify it on a promontory.
The sword of the blood
suffers violence and violence
took it by force!”
I asked, “What does this all mean?”
“My body has no shelter,
the war and soul are one;
dig two graves.
Doors and ladders laid the foundation
not in movement.”
She exhaled, “No, I do not know where I am going.
The wings of regret and of joy; there’s no exit
only confusion in the cold distance,
a voice I must follow.
The devil has wiped out my family;
what has the world come to?”
Her tears stretched across the tombs
“I AM NOT AFRAID TO DIE!”
She sang, “The Lord is my portion in the land of the living
on the mountain, in the valley
on the land and in the sea.”
She took my hand: “This is no longer a prayer
this is a battle cry. I am telling you, child
we have nothing left------”
that’s enough, I said “THAT’S ENOUGH
I can’t stand for this!
Self is not my concern,
which is more,
I will fight for you.”




“Blessed be the LORD my rock, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.”
Last edited by Bleed Away at Jul 25, 2010,
#2
I think I give that a 120000000000000000000000/10. So deep, I doubt I'll ever write something that great.
Quote by willT08
Quote by HowSoonisNow
How was Confucius death metal?
You've clearly never read any Confuscius.

As I wait on the edge of the earth,
I can see the walls being torn down again
Only to be rebuilt in another name,
On a different day
#3
Voices is a most important part of song thus without voice any song is not a developed thus it have a different voice used in a song thus every song will be depended on a voice thus every singer have a nice voice.
#5
Quote by gyrertr
Voices is a most important part of song thus without voice any song is not a developed thus it have a different voice used in a song thus every song will be depended on a voice thus every singer have a nice voice.


Wut?

Anyway, Freddie; this was great. It wasn't self-indulgent - it didn't get lost, and the tension created was highly evocative.

You make such good use of dialogue as well. Managing to sustain that tone throughout was impressive.

I'd like the third last line more if there was a semi-colon there, just gives it that added impact. But that's a nit pick and I won't do that too much.

edit: I'm not sure that the title is strong enough for this piece, just a side thought.
#6
Thank you very much for all for the comments guys. thePTOD Thank you very much for the nice complement but I do believe you are cutting yourself a bit short. Like a lot of my pieces, I came up with the title before even writing a single sentence for the piece. I definitely see your point though but the reason why I kept it after the piece was finally written was because I felt that it fitted with the overall mood and message of the piece; tbh, just ignore the title

Emily, again thank you very much for your comment, I am glad that you liked it

@gyrertr WOO, WOO, YOU KNOW IT!
Last edited by Bleed Away at Jul 21, 2010,
#7
Hi Fred. This is going to be a very long post.

took me a second to see this From Rome.


This is a long distance fall,

This is a neat first line. I think I mentioned it in chat, but the the fall/call is noticeable without being overstated.


this is an absence of thought,
elusive resuscitation and compassion thereof.

The second line here seems a bit wordy, but I think you've taken advantage of a repeated hissing 's' well.

The cry of a wounded lion
and the call from an agitated woman
(she looked like a sister).
She dragged the children through the disfigured pastures
singing the serpentine song of salvation
while beseeching the dead sand.

I don't know where to begin looking this section. The symbolism is stellar (as always); not only that, but the imagery conjures up a narrative that stands all on its old, whether or not the reader recognizes the allusions. The only thing that bugged me was the "Singing the serpentine..." line. I think the consonance is overdone.

They walk in rags as a marred generation,
the purgatorial flesh or a manner of excursion
through the land of grace
beneath the placid earth.

Kind of dry, comparatively. The previous lines were stuffed with memorable elements, but here it drops off.

As I looked at her I saw forgetfulness approaching,
staring into blank space, and spoke:
“This is the wilderness of stagnancy,
I am wounded by fear.
I have dreamt of this before
I have dealt with the consequences;
I will use small words, I will shed my lips.
Her voice began to resonate:
“My friend, the river has already dried for me
the household is raging
and my desires remain still.
I eat with lepers, and gather the crumbs for the children
spawned from my shortcomings; they serve no purpose.
I pray for God to have mercy on us
I, who am here- what I perceive
no one will make me rearrange;
no one will save me.
The spirit of hindrance
I barricade it with iniquity and the presence
of fire. These are the days of miracles and wonders;
ancient of days at last I have found relief”.

Interesting piece of dialogue here. It builds on and focuses the ideas set up in the previous lines, but it also introduces a character of sorts.

I was perplexed by what I was hearing
she was exasperated by the oppression
with a face that needed healing
with a mind that was vulnerable.
I said to her, “It will continue no longer
you shall destroy the stronghold.”
She laughed, “Don’t talk to me falsely
I am no longer among the pastor’s flock
I have already drank the poison, my faith is gone.
Don’t talk to me falsely about the land of the living
and of the dead; I remain homeless.
Agents of nakedness and poverty
you are no longer my masters;
your instruments are disembarked.

“My son, I was told to get up early
to appease the morning voice,
I have pronounced my will
to excavate my sins
and crucify it on a promontory.
The sword of the blood
suffers violence and violence
took it by force!”
I asked, “What does this all mean?”
“My body has no shelter,
the war and soul are one;
dig a grave for two.
Doors and ladders laid the foundation
not in movement.”
She exhaled, “No, I do not know where I am going
the wings of regret and of joy; there’s no exit
only confusion in the cold distance
a voice I must follow-
the devil has wiped out my family;
what has the world come to?”
Her tears stretched across the tombs
“I AM NOT AFRAID TO DIE!”
She sang, “The Lord is my portion in the land of the living
on the mountain, in the valley
on the land and in the sea.”
She took my hand: “This is no longer a prayer
this is a battle cry. I am telling you, child
we have nothing left------”
that’s enough, I said “THAT’S ENOUGH
I can’t stand for this!
Self is not my concern,
which is more,
I will fight for you.”



“Blessed be the LORD my rock, which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.”


Psalm 144 ftw. There are a few parts here and there that stood out as more poorly executed, but for the most part I enjoyed almost everything about this, down to the font you use. You've a natural knack for condensing huge ideas into relatively short passages, which comes out noticeably here.
#8
the whitman resonances in this piece are wonderful- this work really echoes.

I love the way that the quotes/speaking bits slide into the piece, creating an ephemeral atmosphere playing around the idea of voices. it is a great theme and this expands on it while remaining elusive.
this is my favourite bit-

She dragged the children through the disfigured pastures
singing the serpentine song of salvation
while beseeching the dead sand.

I feel like there are a fair amount of biblical references here which also denote the idea of voices in a way- ancient prophetic ones, and this is intruiging because of the way voices and messages per se can be distorted through time. this concept flows well in the piece, awesome work. this definitely has the weight of a two-month piece.