A beautiful muck
Rises from the primordial
Reaching, grasping, tearing
Ambition unrestrained.
A monster most demanding
Politely screaming wants
An endless battle
Civility ever feigned.
Not one person
Two or more at least
We are what we were
That won’t change.
Fight it if you want
Embrace it if you choose
It won’t go away
Combine your calm and rage.
* * *
Anyone who knows me knows that I dislike poetry that doesn’t have a comfortable flow and comfortable rhyme and/or near-rhyme structure. Many times, it feels less like poetry to me and more like ugly, disjointed prose. I have been working with that some. I keep trying to better grasp and accept poetry in all it’s forms and to understand how those uncomfortable aspects may in fact be a part of the poem itself.
This poem has only one rhyme and one near-rhyme. The measure of the words is broken and I feel it is harsh on the tongue. That is in fact, part of the point. It holds a visceral discomfort for me on certain levels. There are rhymes within it to balance the animal with the civilized, so to speak. It is as humanity is, one part primitive and one part tame. The reptile brain pushing forward what it wants while the rest does what it can to temper it.
I felt like the words themselves in this poem become symbolic of the meaning behind it. Of course, this is just what the poem represents to me. What it means for you is another matter entirely. That’s the quirky nature of poetry.
