Human Splendour

First attempt at sestina. I like to go all out with my first attempts, so this one's very wild, and long. If you want a short poem, this is several pages. I will make more short sestina in the future.

The dawn of wrongful lies draws a line that divides mankind

 

I will not sign my life away, I will not decay through your old ways

 

We have our own dreams, all are lonely, the disease that grows amidst the trees freely

 

Human hubris debris unfree from societies civilization, a stick figure Claymation of misconceptions of creation

 

I am my own man, I walk with closed hands and tree root feet that beat against the meat, hungry with every

 

Step, left to circumvent my penitentiary of jail cell memories, savages pretending to be humanity

 

Insanities prison rewritten within calamities sins conditioned for annihilation deprivation on a whim,  fabricated damnations, deformations of animalistic misogyny

 

There is no divine, among the unalive denied entry to heaven’s cemetery ferried under the waters insantuary, disregarded gasping, swallowing, momentarily rotted monsters within the slaughter, among the monumental devils, we are but objects, drowning on cobwebs, buried in cement suspension, without any comprehension of redemption’s insides

 

Omens frozen hopeless stolen moulded broken spoken loathing discarded fallen godless unwanted by Yahweh

 

Taste the tea leaves of eerie disbelief furious among the drunken seaweed feeding the frenzy of many deemed unholy, the defeat controlling the foliage that stole amidst the grove of semen

 

Constipated contemplating, I need an aspirin for my aspirations, erase them with the falling hatred among the rotten forgotten naked faces disintegrating in their integration with no integrity for anything mauling nature conquered failure the death of my telepathy an apparition

 

This is my homeland, a midnight walk as the apocalypse accumulates within the stagnating patience hospitably pitiful while the sheep bleat in their defeat, meeting summer roasting under a brand name beverage

 

 

Leave me barely breathing breezing Cleveland cleaving evening into day, unafraid to air raid the greater graffiti gravitating eating the words that wish to be heard for their being, having no meaning, hung from the ceiling

 

Orchestrated assassination, of free speak, we are but leeches feeding on peace, fat off the deceased, beneath the well-treated lawns of the hellspawned our occupation seeking some freedom within this bleakness within the observation serving deserving denigration

 

This is my average every day, managed in dismay, while the very earth is raped and birthed at the stake for watching us populate, this is my world, but I don’t own the planet, satanic is the businessman, privilege to rust to dust in the sands demanding the flesh of more innocent civilian catalysts of animalist savagery casually handled free to purchase in our worthlessness, procrastinated masturbation of cleverness, severing remnants, god’s Nephilim

 

I am not a prodigy; I did not come honourably from this monotony properly to prosper off of possibility while mythology of a hospital hallway is hollow in my being, callously following me

 

I am not a semblance of honesty, in different eyes, one is worth more than the ones around them, I do not tremble in the gunshot sounding resentful remembrance of false Gods, creating tombstone towers, cowards who act like kings because they have a castle, and a hundred thousand vassals, hide in a cemetery of lights and call yourself a creator, drink in your self-pity, fight amongst each other, for I do not have the pittance to live life as a martyr and barter for gluttony at midnight

 

The word wall of the fallen is a holy monument only to those who have died, have realized their efforts, their sacrifice, become humanized, and have yet to rise, to live for others these people died, what good nature, what love have we yet to realize? To stem the tide there must be no moon at night, to see the starlit sky you must have once had eyes, you must listen closely, to hear your calling

 

Witness your effort fail, as the angel’s sail by, and the demons inside can never die, we are not meant for this earth, we are not loving, we are not God’s sons and daughters, we are merely heartless, and though we try regardless, we will return to whence we came someday, just as something came from nothingness

 

We are filled with emptiness, hollow down deep

 

While men weep, and tears dry, eyes wide, dark time solidified, still light will come again, and so will come a day where we can truly be proud of humanity, but for now, follow your sanity, do right

 

Do not fall to folly simply to sully the soul of your own, we are broken pieces of a puzzle, unwhole, every person a spark within the fire, even truth can come out the mouth of liar, control yourself, do not be enthralled by something that burns you, simply use it to light your way, and see past the pain, settle for modesty

 

We do not need to have, something you can’t get back are others, time, life, we do not own anything, we merely borrow feelings, and search for answers, love, meaning 

 

Integrated into our lives are things that we are taught to want, people we are taught to trust, objects, tyrants, we are made to hate, we are not machines made to worship fate, we are not ordered to annihilate   

 

 

 

 

So find your traits, collaborate, communicate, fascinated by the faded gems of history, the world around with mystery, listen in and learn recreate the same amazement that turned the gears of human minds, and left threads made ready upon the fabric of time, wear that coat, heat your body with the breeze of humanities accomplishment, buckle in, and enjoy living, because we came into being with the freedom divis our own reason, and watch beings replicate

 

Tomorrow or yesterday, display it virtuously or bleed that courtesy murderously and strain the retrained disease of cruelty from our blood and into mud rupturing the memories within the meat, butchering defeat, let us taste the torture of impurity throttling subjugation

 

Let us burn under that cruel sun, the fury of man, forgetting understanding, slander sanity, surrender mannerly, solicit vanity, promiscuously damaging, ravage that rag called history, spit on mankind, we are but savages, cavities free from any kind of peace, pleased to submerge our words with the spite of honour, bondage, love, rape, life, death, can you accept with every breath the pain we’ve done? Just what humankind’s become? There is no morals, only sorrow, neither good nor evil, law or chaos, demon nor angel, fragile beings of blood and bone that moan with pleasure or sever the head of many and anyone who gets in the way of our own form of morals, right and wrong; humanity? Humiliated defeated by homo-sapien hatred and weakness, the secret is we live by our beliefs

 

Not others, sacrificed brethren we could never see to be like you and me, killed with no meaning, cold blood, no credence, goodbye selflessness, goodnight pity, helpless, dead pretty within the walled city, committing murder overtly without mercy might we look in the mirror and shatter, earthly melody, empty memories, watching hell rise

 

Hollow promises, scattered humanity, prevailing failure, madness’s menagerie, devil’s malevolence, settle this semblance, and remember this hatred, for your fellow compatriots, clash reactionary, your soul silver savagery, your heart fool’s gold cavernously, feed your mouth ravenously, eat yourself devouring audacity, passivity is not pacifistic, killing is not resistance, capitalism is not democracy, a warpath is not an odyssey

 

Existence is not living, dying is not giving, revenge is a poor man’s forgiveness, love is not just a privilege,  it’s a necessity, we are an echo of God, not an effigy, we are blind eyes believed seeing, we’re one half-assed being

 

Carving me calling me breaking me making me into a calamity, I blame the way I was raised, man is a child of war, I shame the way that I graze, and grovel at their graves, the stronger man's w***e, if I was a better person, they would have survived, and if they were still alive, I wouldn’t have died, carnivorously, I faded into a shallow grave, conditionally the more the individual cuts, the more they bleed, the more they fade to grey

 

Collapsed conceit, that is what we are when we brought down the bottom of the totem pole, the shore of the abyss, one last kiss before a river of deliverance, tears of the innocent, to kill you die inside, die and you will live on forever within the spit and spawn of another, your brother, or your murderer, blood-curdling isn’t it? What a service of God, what a world to believe in, so easily grieving, our souls never fleeting, never freed

 

Recreation is a sport, but down to the final straw, we resort to death, others or ourselves, one's life is meant to feel like more than another, to take, to steal from each other, destined to be our destination, this selfish hatred, made to be our reclamation

 

It’s defecating, isn’t it? The brief solidified sorrow, sour on the tongue, blood that stops running, soul sent loveless, grief never to be done with, to live with, to bear with, and parish to burn on within the semen, delivered love, delivered life, delivered freedom, objectified reason

 

Who are the good guys? The shark-like businessmen? The political reason treasonous within the crimson oblivion? What is right, what is wrong, what is here, what is gone, what will you do, after all that’s been done? Deny it all, divine the law, on the outside we smile wide, but beneath the lips, you must come to grips that smile are tongue and cheek, lies for the weak, spit and teeth

 

And a man’s got to eat! Such is the fate of every sunrise, a setting of regrets, we are pathetically weak, together unbreakable, forsake empathy and equality, return to savagery, and you are no prophet, just a human skinned Baphomet, at night there are black skies, you can either watch the beams of moonshine at nighttime, or hide in shadows by daylight

 

 

Daylight shines affection on the corpse of humanity, eaten by his appetite, let him rest silently, gentle freedom here to guide him, to crucify him, correct him, send him to a new horizon

 

Being full of momentum, gold and Argentum, with monumental achievements we annihilate his love, our hearts, our dreams, his mark as the lights go dark on this neon city

 

Truth is a beverage best served copiously, hopelessness, pity is openly calling, fallen upon logic, one will answer our questions, but can we be anything but regretful humans? Blooming in all our fragrant cancer? A hung marionette, the connected strings of vice our puppet master? Dancing over life, romantic in our splendour

 

Author's Note

This is my little experiment with sestina. I know that there's a lot of work to be done before I understand this form. Criticism is appreciated. If you enjoyed it, that would be a big bonus though!

My biggest mistake was making this as long as it is. But this is something I always do with my first few poems on a new form, I ignore meter. Next time, I'll force things to become shorter and more compressed, as I believe I can make a good poem easier with fewer words.

I'll come back to this later and do the finishing touches. This is really rough, I would fix that immediately, but this took two days and maybe 6 hours to make. So I'll take a break before I do that, and see if anyone has any suggestions.

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[.]

An artist never knows what's he going to do with the colors...its always an experiment. Taking something different as a "Mistake" isn't wise. If the colors don't look good, you have to keep giving strokes. This works similar for writing works too!
Though the poem is long and doesn't matches the "Sestina" so well its still of its kind. And I admire your spirit as always.
Before you write a Sestina, keep in mind "It consists of six stanzas of six lines each and a three-line envoy." this would surely help you limit your word or compress them.
This is the pattern of repetition of words...,
1 2 3 4 5 6
6 1 5 2 4 3
3 6 4 1 2 5
5 3 2 6 1 4
4 5 1 3 6 2
2 4 6 5 3 1
(6 2) (1 4) (5 3)
I suggest you to go through Elizabeth Bishop's Sestina, I am sure it would help.
Again, the poem is really good for its words and theme! Just keep up with the spirit.
Lots of Best wishes and Good Luck!😊

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

For some reason my professor gave me a different pattern. Maybe sestina varies in patterns around the world? Either that or I'm confused. Thank you for reviewing and bring this to my attention. With your help, I'll be able to understand this form better in time!

[.]

May be it varies... I told you about the French style...like the ones I have read, as per my knowledge it's a Complex French style of writing poetry but it's possible that I am wrong somewhere, so don't take it for sure... I would suggest you to look into some already written as a reference. You are lucky having your professor... I suppose, he/she would surely help you with it.
And I am always there to help ...if needed. 😊

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you so much! I’ll keep at it and try to gain more understanding. Your help is greatly appreciated.