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Array ( [sid] => 142999 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Sentient Clouds [time] => 2008-06-06 05:19:26 [hometext] => Attempts to address the question: What is in a name? [bodytext] => What is in a name? the girl oppugns.
The sky is brooding with a bruise,
And from its violent, milky rift,
A beam of light does lift
Her up until the sentient cloud.

What is in a name? like a citadel
Built and rebuilt dime a dozen,
A name that confides what is assigned,
But casts her in its hasty rind,
And kneaded are her country's seeds.

She asks of the Man above her,
Whom she assumes cannot quite hover,
The significance of each consonant, vowel --
Whether we be prone to shovel and trowel?
To bury bedrock in the fallow soil.

She beseeches the deep-seater
That her life be stamped new meter --
New ignorant anthropologist
To miscategorize on a list
And make necklace of arcane compass.

What is in a name? that her
Face is harder to stand,
As poppable as a balloon
And never, never too soon
That the angels cradle each arm.

But heaven is torpid for the fragile,
Plummets to its nemesis,
She wanting her title forsaken.
Some wail, “It’s already taken!”
This she cannot dispute.

Just what it sounds, so heavy
Without the guard of levee --
Left bottomless and broken,
Her name a futile token,
To the hall of empty displays.

And this she chatters in her teeth,
In her thorny wreath,
It’s impossible to comprehend
That a name can be her bitter end,
So off to middle initial’s untred path --

And all its pent-up wrath.

[comments] => 1 [counter] => 149 [topic] => 43 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )

The Sentient Clouds

Contributed by screwge on Friday, 6th June 2008 @ 05:19:26 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

What is in a name? the girl oppugns.
The sky is brooding with a bruise,
And from its violent, milky rift,
A beam of light does lift
Her up until the sentient cloud.

What is in a name? like a citadel
Built and rebuilt dime a dozen,
A name that confides what is assigned,
But casts her in its hasty rind,
And kneaded are her country's seeds.

She asks of the Man above her,
Whom she assumes cannot quite hover,
The significance of each consonant, vowel --
Whether we be prone to shovel and trowel?
To bury bedrock in the fallow soil.

She beseeches the deep-seater
That her life be stamped new meter --
New ignorant anthropologist
To miscategorize on a list
And make necklace of arcane compass.

What is in a name? that her
Face is harder to stand,
As poppable as a balloon
And never, never too soon
That the angels cradle each arm.

But heaven is torpid for the fragile,
Plummets to its nemesis,
She wanting her title forsaken.
Some wail, “It’s already taken!”
This she cannot dispute.

Just what it sounds, so heavy
Without the guard of levee --
Left bottomless and broken,
Her name a futile token,
To the hall of empty displays.

And this she chatters in her teeth,
In her thorny wreath,
It’s impossible to comprehend
That a name can be her bitter end,
So off to middle initial’s untred path --

And all its pent-up wrath.

Copyright Â© screwge ... [ 2008-06-06 05:19:26]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Sentient Clouds (User Rating: 1 )
by Voyager on Sunday, 22nd December 2013 @ 05:26:44 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Nice surrealist poem.

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