Read my silly poem:

Forums: Original Writing, Writing, Creative Writing
Email this Topic • Print this Page

"Plight of the Forty-Five"

[CENTER]Sitting in a void between two fabrics,
muffled voices overhead go berserk.
Violent, greedy creatures who dictate
everything my kind will ever do.
My purpose equates to denim's roughness,
so never can I be soft like cotton
nor can I be bound elastically.
Creativity is impossible.
My speech is only free to be hostile,
my round gaping mouth always foreboding.[/CENTER]

[CENTER]Hospitalization is what I spit.
To these men my words of comfort mean ****,
for they can't be interpreted as such.
I was to born serve and protect my gods
who fail to serve and protect each other.
I am yanked from my sweaty, smelly home
and the cold urban night greets me kindly.
Something on my side is clicked out of place
and I find myself staring at a face.
Bloodied and bruised, he begs me not to speak.[/CENTER]

[CENTER]But the one behind me wants me to sing!
Should I, will I be compelled to obey?
The bloodied and bruised face closes his eyes,
giving himself up to The Almighty:
Inevitability, certainty:
The idea that nature is clockwork.
Everything is just predetermined.
No, damn it! I must have some kind of choice!
I cannot make this human being bear
my monosyllabic, murderous song.[/CENTER]

[CENTER]I shake in my operator's strong grip.
He is God, my master. I am compelled.
He spells out my purpose and all my goals.
"Might is right", he tells me without saying.
The same hand that cradles me will cast me
to hell if I dare disobey his will.
Then so be it! Morals are relative!
His index finger twitches a little,
coaxing me to do His will. "Might is right".
I jam. I break free of my one purpose.[/CENTER]

[CENTER]He sees me as broken, dead, and useless.
But you know what? That's perfectly okay,
because I am an individual.
And with that individuality
comes freedom of choice.

[/CENTER]
First person to correctly interpret wins a cookie. Very Happy

dA link: http://existence-is-random.deviantart.com/art/The-Plight-of-the-Forty-five-139207139

Topic Stats
Top Replies
Link to this Topic

Type: Discussion • Score: 1 • Views: 768 • Replies: 11

No top replies

@The Dude phil phil,

It's a tick, my favorite superhero?

1 Reply

@Arjuna,

Here's a hint:

This is being told from a perspective that would be impossible in real life.

0 Replies

@The Dude phil phil,

I'm not sure how I would interpret this in an accurate way, but I find that it flows very well, and this type of poetry is my favorite.

1 Reply

@Leonard,

Okay, here's the thing:

It's being told from the perspective of a Colt .45 who laments his inability to do anything he sees beneficial or productive.

Highlight this post if you want to know. Or just keep guessing away, I guess.

0 Replies

@The Dude phil phil,

It makes sense, now. Very interesting perspective.

0 Replies

@The Dude phil phil,

Just read this. Yes, a mighty flow and a great idea. The poetry of a weapon, why not really? Goethe and Milton made even the devil speak.

1 Reply

@Catchabula,

Call me a filthy political opportunist (I like it :sly-dog: ), but the best part of creating fiction is all of the true sh*t you can sneak inside. Writing from a perspective as abstract as that of a Colt .45 can yield some fun results.

0 Replies

@The Dude phil phil,

Aww that's a bit sad The Dude.

---------- Post added 10-10-2009 at 02:59 PM ----------

You wanted to shoot yourself? Ouch what a way to go, how can you pull the trigger, things can't be that bad surely?

1 Reply

@Caroline,

Caroline;96563 wrote:

Aww that's a bit sad The Dude.

---------- Post added 10-10-2009 at 02:59 PM ----------

You wanted to shoot yourself? Ouch what a way to go, how can you pull the trigger, things can't be that bad surely?

What?

This poem's not about suicide.

It's written from the perspective of a gun who's being forced to commit murder when he doesn't want to.

So he jams on his owner. Razz

It's all a big metaphor for the idea of purpose conflicting with the idea of free will. Of course a gun can't make a choice (if such a thing really exists) in real life, seeing as it has no thinking apparatus with which to make choices, but people can. So I gave the gun a soul along with a bit of character in order to send a message.

I don't know if anyone's noticed this yet, but the poem has a very rigid composition.

45 lines
445 syllables total
45 syllables in the last stanza

0 Replies

@The Dude phil phil,

Im sorry my mistake.
Thanks.

1 Reply

@Caroline,

It's perfectly fine.

Literature is a dialogue between writer and reader. While I may have intended for it to send a certain message, you're free to interpret it however you like.

I just didn't want anyone thinking I'm about to blow my brains out. :haha:

0 Replies

Read my silly poem:

Related Topics

Quick Links

My Account

able2know