01-19-2013, 04:42 PM
This is beautiful - I am new to poetry but I really enjoyed "I walk across my distinguished fate. I can not help, nor can I lead."
I feel a lack of control - in what we are allowed to control in this culture.. we have choices in this society but how do we know the choices we make aren't implanted into our subconscious through power of suggestion / an illusion of choice. Who is the one giving us these choices? How many companies are there to choose from that lead back to 1 of the 4 main corporations? This hit a chord with me in our fates, if they are predetermined by a "higher power" - could that higher power be the people who give us that illusion of choice? "Men and women die, As I lay tight." - this line made me think of the people around the world who I cannot help, what seems out of my control - and I get this comfortable life, yet uncomfortable in these questions philosophically - "Who is really calling the shots?" "Who am I?" "What is true comfort?"
does any of this strike a chord? I am having a hard time expressing the feeling this poem is generating in me
I also see signing a contract into a war, the thoughts you have as you bleed out from a gun shot - "distinguished fate" - acceptance from the get go that you will die, for a purpose - but a sense of uncertainty - which leads me back to the illusion of choice
Rigamortis "As I lay tight"
I feel a lack of control - in what we are allowed to control in this culture.. we have choices in this society but how do we know the choices we make aren't implanted into our subconscious through power of suggestion / an illusion of choice. Who is the one giving us these choices? How many companies are there to choose from that lead back to 1 of the 4 main corporations? This hit a chord with me in our fates, if they are predetermined by a "higher power" - could that higher power be the people who give us that illusion of choice? "Men and women die, As I lay tight." - this line made me think of the people around the world who I cannot help, what seems out of my control - and I get this comfortable life, yet uncomfortable in these questions philosophically - "Who is really calling the shots?" "Who am I?" "What is true comfort?"
does any of this strike a chord? I am having a hard time expressing the feeling this poem is generating in me
I also see signing a contract into a war, the thoughts you have as you bleed out from a gun shot - "distinguished fate" - acceptance from the get go that you will die, for a purpose - but a sense of uncertainty - which leads me back to the illusion of choice
Rigamortis "As I lay tight"