|
Menu
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
Carapace
Contributed by
Butterat_Zool
on
Sunday, 1st August 2004 @ 02:52:07 AM in AEST
Topic:
Lifepoems
|
I’m longing for a good breakup,
A little excitement in my life,
Some “Believe me now, it isn’t you.”
or “I never meant to make you cry.”
But things aren’t so easy
in this day and age.
Hearts are harder and
so darned resilient.
You can cast them aside
in favor of a younger model,
you can spit on them, lie to them,
cut out their feet and siphon their blood
And still they keep on beating there
inside their newly evolved granite shells,
and try as you might,
you’ll never get the dumb thing to break.
They all only heal up with the years,
grow another layer of cold stone,
move on, go to group therapy,
and tell each other how beautiful they are
And how much of a ****** you really were.
Yeah, that’s what hearts do,
but that’s no fun.
It was so much better in the olden days,
Back when one good swat
was all it took to burst the cute, tender thing,
and send it’s life and love all over the room,
staining all the linens. So much better that way,
Back before trust was harder
to win than the lottery.
There’s no excitement in that.
There’s no love in that.
Copyright ©
Butterat_Zool
... [
2004-08-01 02:52:07] (Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment. That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
Re: Carapace
(User Rating: 1 ) by wray on
Friday, 13th August 2004 @ 10:59:54 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Hmmmmmmm! To be honest I couldn't tell what your final conclusion really was - you're saying that back then was BETTER, right? But reading the 2nd last stanza and considering its context in the poem, it seems like you're really quite indifferent to both sides, like someone observing that it'd be nice if their coffee had a little more sugar but they don't really think about it and they drink it anyway.
Anyway the subject was fascinating coz I agree that people ARE becoming harder and more ready to get on with it, so to speak. But I also reckon that subconsciously we all know it and we're trying to make up for it by superficially wearing our hearts on our sleeves. It's a pretty depressing concept, the idea that we're all becoming overly resilient to heartache. Does it have anything to do with the general cynicism characteristic of the younger generation? Are we rebelling against the standards set by our parents, grandparents etc? Is it coz the exponential growth of our entire economy/social system/etc drives us to constantly want to move forward and grasp better opportunities? Have our greater levels of social exposure made us all too aware, too knowledgeable about matters of life? Are we starting to take an almost clinical approach to our feelings, coz precedents in the world have taught us how to? |
|
|
Re: Carapace
(User Rating: 1 ) by Butterat_Zool on
Saturday, 21st August 2004 @ 06:56:40 PM AEST (User
Info | Send
a Message)
|
Wray, you're just as great a reader as you are a writer. My point in this poem was that people are less trusting this day and age and that that's affecting relationships and society's idea of love. Like i said, it's not really love if you can't trust somebody, you know? But nowadays, people fall in love with one night stands. I just made my point in a kind of roundabout way. Along with the good old days when love was something sacred and somthing real, there was also that risk to love that one good swat would burst someone's cute, tender heart, which is something that hard-heartedness has taken away from, hence the title. As for all your questions about why this is so, that's another ten or twenty poems of exploration. My job is to make the observation first and then explore the roots behind it later on. :-) Thank you for your wonderful comment and i'll talk to you again as soo as my computer gets fixed. Bye, love, Butterat Zool. |
|
|
|