[Critique Group 2] Leonard's comments on Brad's sub

[leonard tuchyner]

This is indeed a poem  with many well done poetic devices.

I have the feeling this is a metaphor of something awaiting us.  But
I’m not clear what it is.

What is the original object which starts the whole affair

The people are diseased and primitive.

I’m  not aware of what that signifies.

Frightened, they look for safety in the drum beats  they hear., which
seems to be something of a Siren  call

wich is luring them.

There is an old prophecy  which some of them remember, which  is a warning.

The worlde they live in  is full of death,

putrification , poisoning

until it gives way to a baren plain  where they are about to be
devoured by monsters.

This poem has a lot of qualities which could be attributed to the
world we are trying,

with increasing difficulty

to live in.

Can you enlighten us as to the meaning of this work?





Wed, Jul 12, 8:32 PM (12 hours ago)







Feast of the Ancient Ceremony

An Experimental Poetic Nightmare



As the essential substance decays

unencapsulated, exposed,

no longer buried in earth,

the initial effects are felt.



Clear and hard like crystal

or stone, but softer, more organic,

the inevitable triggering mechanism activates.



The gray people,

primitive and diseased, gather.



They are awaiting the sacred unveiling

told of in their myths

and nursery rhymes.



In the distance, slowly

a cone-shaped mountain

cratered at the top

spews fire and molten streams of rock.

The ground begins to shake.

The gray people are afraid.

They try to run.



Louder than the spewing volcano

and rumbling terrain, drums

are heard signaling,

in the distance.



The people attempt to move in their direction,

recognizing the possibility of sanctuary.



Laughing, the winds mock them!

Ash and some as yet undefined horror

rains down from the sky and

smoke rolls over the land.

The gray people, undismayed

continue on toward the drums.



Soon the land tilts in a downward grade.

As they trudge further on,

the sight and sound of the erupting mountain fades



An odor of rotting vegetation assaults their senses.

A dead limb of the green world

breaking down into liquid and gases

lies before them.



Onward they stagger.

It begins to faintly dawn upon

a few among them that

their forced journey and plight

has been long ordained, unalterable!



Crossing a befouled stream of;

Is it water? They don’t think so.

The sound of the drums continues,

closer now!



The blueness of the sky

has been slowly changing.

By now it is the color of beaten copper.

Suddenly the ground beneath their feet,

vanishes!



They find themselves, broken and disheveled

upon a stoney plain.



Nearby, a scatter of dead swans lies.

Mutilated, necks broken,

beginning to rot.

Flies industriously drone and buzz.



In abject terror, they behold

huge monstrous figures

beating hollow metal drums

and dancing madly!



In the foreground,

a massive table stands.

Upon it, thick red candles burn.

Brazen plates, bowls and cups

and shining steel cleavers,

adorn the iron surface.



With eerie squeals

the huge loathsome figures

perceive them.



Quickly they find themselves

inside the circular dance.

The repulsive, bestial monsters salivate,

cleavers are raised,

the prophesy is fulfilled

the final element has been offered.

the ceremonial feast commences!