Fila, Fila!

Sickened and soaked into madness

Permission to fail, permission to be what I don’t want to be

So far, so good

Just an empty stage

Nobody’s left to accuse

There’s only yourself left to abuse of your own incoherence

Standing still, everybody’s fault; nobody’s will

 

Saddened yet slightly covered with bliss

Cutouts of rock’n’roll bands �" inanimate things �"

There are a few things here left to please

And lots more to tease �" but I gave up on temptation

Just a silly try of giving alienation a little chance to exist

 

Who will kill the poet? Who will take the fame?

Who will pretend on Broadway? Who will jump off the train?

Unknown theories, lost soldiers and cheap souvenirs

There’s nothing but questions for you and me

No answers here, my love

No answers here.

Reviews

[SpokenWord]

Poems can be interpreted in many different ways most of the time what we see in a poem is truly in ourselves. In this one I see in the first verse the asking of permission to fail and to be what one doesn't want to be as being a doorway to revert back to past behaviors a past way of living before a great change had happened. Also the stage, well many people will put on a play in front of others like a performance but this stage is empty in this poem. this makes me think of a relationship, where someone acts one way in public and differently in private. Here I see something has happened and the one person isn't taking ownership but rather blaming others.

In the second verse I see that there is still a chance for the relationship but much of it has washed away. One party has lost the passion maybe.

In the third verse it seems that they are at the end with plenty of questions and no answer.

your poems make me think and see many things maybe intended to see or maybe from my own imagination but it makes your work great to read.

[Richard Williams]

Good imagination, word choice, and poetic structure.

[Shiningwolf]

I like how you express yourself! goodjob!

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

It's criminal how we sit around and watch our loved ones get torn apart by the obstacles placed before them by the universe. I wonder how we can force fate to shoulder the responsibility of straightening everything out. I look at severely troubled people who cross the line of sanity and wonder why loved ones never notice the most blatant signs that they need their help. I didn't find this poem to be suicidal confessions or anything...but it did remind me of how apathy sets in and comes between people who need support and those who should give it. Makes me wonder what happened to the close knit family. This is great work!

[Margaret Marie Hubbard]

I LOVE the way your word things and express your intent! Please nobody kill the poet! :)

[Rossen]

Thought this was well written, good finish, like your style Karina.
Rossen

[Angela]

The second line is a killer. Keep doing what you are doing. Your writing comes from the heart. I detect depression and anger. It speaks to my heart. Getting it out heals. Don't stop! Keep writing as you are. You have an amazing talent.

[Casper]

Your style is great, but have you thought about writing something a tad bit more cheery? I absolutely love your work, though. Very nice, very graceful.

[Sherbs Dreaming Tree Of..]

Intense!

[Tommy]

You know I read this and get a feeling of an inner battle of wills. The lone person left on the stage with an audience watching; the weight of the act (or life) left solely upon their shoulders, as a spectator yells, "Break a leg." Kind of a lonesome feel putting yourself in the spotlight (or out in the real world), as you feel your make up start to run, your mind starts to panic, and you start to ask yourself why you put yourself in this situation. It's not so fun being a stand up left with no jokes to tell.(life becomes real and you realize you are not a child anymore) This stand up bit puts food on your table. The reality of life seems to be full of questions, and the answers can only be found by getting out there and living.
This is just what played out in my mind while I read this. It is not directed at you, or your piece per say, just the images that played in my mind as I read it. I agree with SpokenWord, "Poems can be interpreted in many different ways most of the time what we see in a poem is truly in ourselves." Maybe you have spawned some reflection here derived from my subconscious; I don't know? But I know I liked the read!

Great Write!
RLG,
Tommy

[Rose Masen]

This poem makes me see it's imagery in black and white...and though there are many different things being spoken of, I hear silence.

I loved it.