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Array ( [sid] => 180456 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Last Ten Yards [time] => 2015-02-05 07:32:08 [hometext] => Death can be philosophical- to a point [bodytext] =>
In a lofty tower with the specter' of death
a little ant scurrying, avoiding feet
from so high up,
the squish of failure
an abstraction to our filtered ears.

Down low, in the trenches
where screams of fear vibrate in proximity
the squish is loud indeed.
How close and meaningful our loss
when suddenly it's me.

Where are my treatises on spiritual elevation-
I can't find them in my excrement
released at the sight of the gate of blackness.

Abstractions and theory hold no place
in the last ten yards to the line-
But for those (the few alone) who die the death in smiles
twinged wry upon our whines.

[comments] => 2 [counter] => 227 [topic] => 21 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )

The Last Ten Yards

Contributed by invierno on Thursday, 5th February 2015 @ 07:32:08 AM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

In a lofty tower with the specter' of death
a little ant scurrying, avoiding feet
from so high up,
the squish of failure
an abstraction to our filtered ears.

Down low, in the trenches
where screams of fear vibrate in proximity
the squish is loud indeed.
How close and meaningful our loss
when suddenly it's me.

Where are my treatises on spiritual elevation-
I can't find them in my excrement
released at the sight of the gate of blackness.

Abstractions and theory hold no place
in the last ten yards to the line-
But for those (the few alone) who die the death in smiles
twinged wry upon our whines.

Copyright © invierno ... [ 2015-02-05 07:32:08]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Last Ten Yards (User Rating: 1 )
by xHeathenx on Friday, 6th February 2015 @ 05:32:23 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I like this. For some reason, I stopped caring, or arguing at the very least of the metaphysical conundrums, especially religion. I've decided to sit in a pit of nihilism and just watch the world burn, while sifting out the beauty where I seek to find it, and maybe even create it.
But all things aside, with the poem itself, it makes sense. It's the common place of "Every man, be him a theist, or an atheist, will pray upon his deathbed".
My favorite part, funny after reading it the second time, is the third stanza.
The ending though, if you could explain, I would appreciate it. For some reason the wording isn't working for me. I had to look up the definitions of the words twinged and wry, and I still can't completely get it. I'm also a creature of contexts and semantics if it's any consolation.

Re: The Last Ten Yards (User Rating: 1 )
by hauntedscorp on Saturday, 7th February 2015 @ 09:12:22 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Great job here. Even that title bears impressive weight.
The second stanza stands out big time- well done, and a befitting end.

~Scorp

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