Human

Have I told you my insides are made of plastic?

My blood runs with a creamy cherry taste, 

My veins were compounded from a beautiful church window

Dressed up with a staind glass mantra. 

My bones are made of chalk 

The type of chalk that your teacher used in pre-school

The same type I was allergic to.  

Who knew? 

I think I must of watered down my condition

Either that or I made a bad prediction 

Because it turns out my brain is made of faulty electrical wires. 

I have blocks of wood for muscles

And bottle caps for eyes. 

My ears are made from the hinges of old doors, 

My nose was modelled from the wood of old floors, 

And my fingernails are dressed up with pretty metal. 

Tonight I just wan't to feel like myself again, 

Tonight my heart is a fumbling sub-wolfer 

Riddled with tiny pieces of distortion. 

Author's Note

Reviews

[JohnnyMagrinho]

Michelangelos's David & his Pietà.
A child's snowman at yuletide.
Edward Scissorhands.
The Tinman.
Any in-store mannequin.
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Descartes was right when he challenged the fact the people he saw were who they claimed to be, just because that's the way things are. And how they should be. Or so we are told.

If you stabbed any statue in any South American Catholic church will it cry? Or bleed?

How dissimilar are we to those immortalised in stone?

I like how you go from evoking one emotion to the other, and your use of varying language/references keeps the poem alive and mutating. It doesn't remain stagnant as it is not given the chance.

This style is evident in all of your poetry and a lot of it comes across as a rap/freestyle shouting.

It's nice how you address the reader on occasion and then leave him to his own devices. It's sort of like an old man talking to his grandson before forgetting he was even ever there. I like the ending of the poem. It's a rather wonderful analagy of the heart to describe it like you have done.

Riddled with tiny pieces of distortion. That's almost a perfection description for anybody who has felt the way you are trying to explain.

I'll read this again and if I get anything else from it I'll let you know. It's a nice piece, though.

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Cole,

Very impressive. Filled with food for thought and wonderful metaphors. My favorite was "my bones are made of chalk". Wonderful.

Also loved "Tonight my heart is a fumbling sub-wolfer / Riddled with tiny pieces of distortion." I can feel and understand that.

Finally, loved the music selection. Generally I find the music distracting. As with other of your poems, I didn't find that to be the case here. The music was wonderful. Loved the calming and communing cellos.

Very best regards. This was greatly enjoyed.

Rick

[Peaceworker22]

"wan't" Just remove the comma. It's good, and that part where his bones are made from the chalk he used to be allergic to was pretty ironic. I liked this. : )

[Samantha Lynn]

I love the philisophical aspect of this. haha
I also love the chalk part. It kind of makes sense that we are all made of something that is forbidden with only makes us want it more, of course.
Great work as always! :D

[Pax]

i image a very sick person while reading this..i wonder maybe the metaphor used how my brian process it is just like that..:)
i really enjoyed. This is one of your best, great job.

[olla]

well done.. this one is very good..

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

exposing the reader consciously to what they are exposed to on many subliminal levels already...this is what real art and truth are sposed to do. for that alone, i commend you..
"My ears are made from the hinges of old doors,
My nose was modeled from the wood of old floors,
And my fingernails are dressed up with pretty metal. "
this is an important stanza and I will explain why as concisely as possible: your senses have been made to feel antiquated and you feel conditioned to lash out, and this lashing out and the fear of it are upheld as beautiful..keep the senses inept and the blind lashing out revered..this is how you feel the world is telling you to be..at least that's how I read this stanza.
the first line is acrimonious, the next is an homage to brainwashing, the next, a physiological repulsion and an acknowledgement of a metaphorical body memory
"who knew?" more acrimony, well timed and poignant...
immediately referencing bad neurological programming and even a subtle reference to awareness tap dancing against reality...
you're lost in space having OBE, perhaps, for your own spiritual survival witnessing a world of creatures like the one you've described, feeling hopeless to warn them because you're barely in a place to witness them
you should receive a Pulitzer for this, just saying

[Olivia Marie]

I loved this :) Fascinatingly beautiful :)

[Corset]

Even plastic can melt young one under the right temperature. Love this write...awesome wordsmith here.

[♪The Girl Next Do..]

Yes. I love this. I can't even...I have no words. This is just fantastic. Excellent work.

[Marie]

So nothing makes up your human condition except pieces of non-human?