Mother, Dressed In Rags

Looking toward the youth,
their eyes wide, stomach’s full.
Force-fed on idealized vanity,
content on sitting back
and watching the show.

When all the jesters have died,
the troubadour’s candle snuffed out,
who will be left to perform for them
    who will step up to be judged
    and capture, just for a second, collective consciousness
    as to ambush communicable apathy.

Looking toward the youth,
bioengineered for perfection
incessantly losing the very spark
which makes us human—
living, breathing, limpid portraits of where we went wrong.
Can our missteps be traced back
to the points of their indefinable origin
    or are we left to connect the dots?

Has every idea not been executed—
introductions just returns in disguise?
The few left in the margins
    pining for passion.

Or will we move forward?
Can we take notice,
    stand up and turn away from the flame
    in time to resurrect the Earth from her ashes—
    to nurse the wounds of her neglect?

Astonished
    by the great turn against the womb
    which so carefully nurtured us;
What action scarred so deep
    to retaliate so heinously?
        Can her missteps be traced back to their origins
            or are we left to scavenge through the wreckage for truth?

How can we sit and watch
a Mother apologize
to the children she let forget her?
    Their omissions being the ones which destroyed her,
    standing, embarrassed
of the disfigured vagrant she has become
without their affection.

Hark back, she was beautiful
but now can only look toward the youth
to take care,
    as she prays for the spotlight, crying out:
“Love me! Love me!”
    to the medicated masses.
 

Reviews

[Amelie Florence]

'How can we sit and watch
a Mother apologize
to the children she let forget her?
Their omissions being the ones which destroyed her,
standing, embarrassed
of the disfigured vagrant she has become
without their affection.

Hark back, she was beautiful
but now can only look toward the youth
to take care,
as she prays for the spotlight, crying out:
�Love me! Love me!�
to the medicated masses.'

i really love these two stanzas... they remind me of the mother in Requiem for a Dream... the character of the mother who loses her identity, left it behind in the years of her prime, for the sacrifices of raising a family & when the nest empties, there is nothing left but an unrecognizable modern world & the vicarious longings of today's media-raised youth. the mother in the movie (if you haven't seen it) becomes desperate for the love & attention she doesn't receive from her heroin addicted son & tries to reassert her youth through late-night television & Big Pharma's magic weight loss pills, ulimately becoming addicted & slowly deteriorating into an innocent & oblivious victim of addiction herself (definitely one of the most utterly depressing but eye-opening films i've ever seen). Anyway (& i appologize for being long-winded), that film & your poem really made me think of the sad state of modern society & the fact that many of our mother's (my own included) are suffering a similar condition (minus the drug addiction) & desperately need our love & appreciation. very touching piece. i'm excited to read more of your work.

[Lena M. P.]

Another powerful write. You paint with words like an artist to canvas and each color speaks emotion. Mankind has decreed a holocaust on mother earth and it will take a brave many to turn her fate around. My favorite lines, "Astonished by the great turn against the womb which so carefully nurtured us; What action scarred so deep to retaliate so heinously?" Extremely well penned!

[Lena M. P.]

Another powerful write. You paint with words like an artist to canvas and each color speaks emotion. Mankind has decreed a holocaust on mother earth and it will take a brave many to turn her fate around. My favorite lines, "Astonished by the great turn against the womb which so carefully nurtured us; What action scarred so deep to retaliate so heinously?" Extremely well penned!

[C. Montserrat]

Oh my, isn't it gut wrenching to see a child embarassed of his mother? One truly has to marvel at the power of the social machine that can effect something so horrible and unnatural. Your poem is truly touching, and I agree with the review below that the last two stanzas are particularly beautiful.

[E. Maggard]

I like this one- perhaps we should add this one in?

[John Dorado]

I really enjoy the imagery and all the detail.
Keep em comin :D


Our world is changing immensely..
and yet I wish it would change more.