Here is this weeks blog. It’s back to 2007 and bought to you by chapter C of the 1977 edition of Chambers Compact Dictonary.In other words there are quite a few big words in this one. I hope though that they won’t get in the way of your being able to enjoy or relate to the poem.
I hope this week is a good one for you all.
These complications are being carried for too long.
The cerebral conventicles of carking cares.
They are caustic to the cortex,
Corrosive to the cerebrum.
In carefree wonders of a crimson dawn.
Its calming colour washes the calamity away.
Come the cavernous chamber of stars
It will re-commence,
But we won’t consider that right now.
For now we drop that cargo.
We turn instead to chips and cartridges.
Central processing conventions.
We entertain the clowns of community,
The carousing comrades of clan.
We are charlatans here amongst the cheerfulness.
Clear the circuit,
Before I cry.
Ohhh and console me!
Coil me in the conundrums of your curves?
Construct for me a special coomb of comfort,
Where we can counteract these curses.
Conflicting with the crusaders,
Who call to their command.
The cudgel that crushes freedom.
Who campaign with the butcher’s chopper mouth.
To cleave and
Capsize the conciliatory convoy.
Trying to make cake from crumbs.
When it’s a case of convictions.
Convene with me?
To our secret cottage.
Call me to your cromlech of cairns.
Hold me while we sing our coronach,
For false champions of charity and noble causes.
For those who ordain themselves the right to wear the chasuble.
The charcoal night descends again.
The cranium becomes concave from cogitation.
Again coherence collapses,
With the collusion of a creaky collective unconscious.
Confessions are made.
Confinement consolidated through the crack of contentment.
In consideration of circumstances.
I am crazy.
Having been cleared out of my chest.
Facing my Carpathian Mountains.
Through cold and the chill of clenched teeth.
That we may clatter and chatter, chit and chat.
I must concede.
I still need the cloister.
Take me clandestine,
Underneath it all?
Through closets and cupboards,
Into the crucible of your conception?
Compute for me your caress.
So I may be comforted from of all these conflagrations,
That those of compos mentis condemn.
© 2007 Tikarma Vodicka
Poetical Impressions, Looking back, Being Swept Away By The C. Sunday, January 23rd 2011
Being Swept Away By The C. is one of my favourite poems. It’s contruction, the way the words roll off the tounge. It’s a poem to be felt more than anaylised. There is at least for myself a clarity despite some of the language.
As some of you know I don’t really like poetry where you have to sit with dictionary in hand to understand it, or as it has been re-named by Jamie “academic wank”.
I do though recognise that within language is an ability to rise above the wank with the fancy words to a place where they don’t really matter allowing you to expand your emotional range of expression.
I am infinitely fascinated with emotionns that seem to defy description, the “I’m speechless” moments, I want to find a language for them. I am also a great lover of words and the English language, so it is inevitable that these kinds of poems will eventually come to the surface.I completely blame my curiosity. 🙂
Normally I would post definitions or do a stanza by standa expostition. To do this though I feel would destroy the poem’s magic. Maybe in the future that time will come but for now I don’t want to pick at it too closely. Maybe I still enjoy the magic too much to let that go just yet. 🙂
The poem was written after I had a taken quite a break from being online around the end of 2007. I had been offline and disconnected in more ways than one.I had moved house, granted it was only across town but it was still new and strange and I kept walking into walls where there should’ve been doors.
I was exhausted, enraged with life, and in a strange home I didn’t want to be in at that moment in time, and trying to go back on-line calm, in control and “happy”. *shakes head*
I think we’ve all felt at some point for many different reasons those moments in life where we’ve dived back into the fray after a great emtional strain only to find ourselves looking in on the very normal interactions of others and it not making sense. Feeling alien in situations that used to feel normal, trying to make sense of life.
You can do it, within you is the ability to get on with living you’re just not sure how and the world feels so disconnected and strange,…or is it you???…You know and you don’t know.
It’s a very emotionally and mentally straining time. It would be easier if you were standing at a life crossroads but you’re not, it’s just life and how it builds up how people come and go and how you’re left feeling like an outsider to the very things you used to take for granted.
These emotions are the heart of this poem. Feeling like an outsider. So for me, having language that is no longer used in everyday life is just as apt, because you know i.e. you can grasp the context, but at the same time you don’t actually know, i.e. the words actual definition.
Sometimes our emotions become so strained. The mind is so full of a chatter that really isn’t language that the ordinary speech is…ordinary. It doesn’t convey exactly the emotinal torrent your riding.
I could’ve written
“I am still grievieing
Still trying to reconcile myself
To living in world without you
It hurts my brain,
Torments my mind.
It’s depression just makes me
want to hide under the covers and die.”
That would be the first stanza without all the fancy words. The plain speech just lacks a certain vital expression. I didn’t want to write about these feelings. The last thing I wanted to do was come back on-line and say “hey everybody” and then bum them out with my depression and grief. I didn’t know how to express myself honestly or even if I should at all. Underneath all this life stuff was the bubbling desire though to get all this rubbish out. For me ultimately that is what poety is, a vehicle to express the self , good or bad in the hope of elevating yourself and hopefully others along with you.
So that’s all very well but how on earth do I arrive at the point where I am constructing a poem from a dictionary?
Well this is where the muse comes into the equation, being struck by lightning as it were. I was sitting in the patio with Jamie late one night conversing. I had no intentions of writing poetry, we weren’t far off going to bed. somewhere in the conversation I did my typical “ignore” face as I was hit by the lines
Coil me in the conundrums of your curves?”
Which then de-railed our conversation completely as I tried desperatly to find stanzas to go with it and why was it even in my head!?
I was captivated.
This then lead to a brain flash of looking in the dictionary.
My muse she’s like that. She’ll point at something but I have to figure it out, she’ll give me a line but I have to find the rest of the poem. If I’m very lucky she’ll hand me one complete but rarely is she in that good of a mood. 🙂
These are those magic moments. If you let them slip away you won’t get them back. Like the postman the muse doesn’t knock twice. I can’t really explain how it happens. It’s just there if I choose to take it and the words are just there. It’s a bit like channelling but at the same time it is all very much me. It’s a little crazy…poor Jamie…*lol*
The poem came together embrassiningly easy. With Jamie in one ear, “How about this word” “Ohhh this one is good!” I just started writing away. I just knew where to look and what words were right and the lines just fell into place. It really in a lot of ways wrote itself.
It said though without my meaning to, exactly what I was wanting to say at that time.
It expresses for me those confused and complicated feelings that lie deep within the mind and heart that arise when you feel like an outsider in a way that I couldn’t have done without the dictionary.
It may be a small boring to look at bright red book kids were given in the seventies for school.The pages are yellowing from age, but I owe this little dictionary a great debt. It not only helped me express myself better, but it also has left me with a poem I love today. As much as it captures a time of not so cheery feelings it also makes me smile with all the words and how they feel to speak them. It makes me excited all over again for language and poetry and the expression of self through words.
I hope you all have a great week to come. May it contain too a moment or moments of inspiration that leave you sprawling for pen or paintbrush or musical instrument that fill you with the joy of creation and expression. 🙂