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This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2006-10-17 18:04:55 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Untitleable

I stagger awake from years totally drugged out. My wife’s a tool, my daughter’s surgeon-fodder, my son’s a mini-me, my self’s a conduit for the miasma of culture. All now repair to the knife: behold the model labia, behold the model glans. Now the surgeon in his burkha is a sculptor, his mutilating art looks like perfection, alchemy that anodizes my leaden terrain with a golden lustre. God made nature for weaklings: the rest can have all the beauty that money can buy.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2008-06-03 20:47:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mark, I'm not sure how I ever missed this but it is so sage with tonque and cheek/sarcasim, it speaks volumns of what society see's as quality and treasure. Poor, poor us, all of us have become cultural victims, sightles, non thinking autotoms..at best. Perhaps, you could repost this, it is certainly a timely peace that says so much and is so right on target for the times we are living in. Peace my friend, Lora

This Poem was Critiqued By: Terrye Godown On Date: 2006-11-09 02:24:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hey Mark, love this totally cynical rendition, and how you artfully infuse your sarcasm! "Surgeon fodder"?? The gregarious pursuers of perfection in our culture today would certainly consider your rendition the epitome of blasphemy! Had to laugh over that verse presenting the model "privates'. You get a Golden 'globes' award for that one - Ya know, if it wasn't for Bay Watch, I think we could probably all stay content with ourselves. I had to pause and ponder the 'staggering awake' from the drugged out years image. Maybe I'll just leave that one alone for now. As for the conduit role, well.. SOMEBODY in the family has to pay for the work. BTW, did you happen to check and see if any of the regulars on TPL are poetically gifted surgeons who wear burkhas Mark? Sheesh, the backlash could tarnish the golden luster on your leaden terrain for sure... We're completely out of sync on that "God made nature for weaklings' comment, though. From my perspective only the strong survive without a single nip or tuck. I've opted to be one of the strong, however on my next journey overseas I will rent myself a traffic stopping sports car, hire a breathtaking German photographer to secure himself on the hood and photograph me on the Autobahn (in the sunset hours of day of course), when the speedometer reaches 115. My thinking is that this should produce quite a tight and flawless image my husband will be proud to display in his wallet and preserve in the family archives for generations to come. I'm too much of a frugalist to chance such risky mutilation anyway. Whats the use when they can't make your hands look younger to match?? Great work Mark, as usual! Cheerz, Terrye

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2006-11-01 17:21:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
This is quite good for not even deserving a title. Mark you write so uniquely and yet what you say strikes chords of communication with everyone. I think you are either are or becomming egoless. And that is very attractive to all. A weakling I'd rather be than rich. And that is actually the richest of all! Your profound too, you're coming along nicely. Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-10-31 10:27:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
No wonder there is no title! This is dark, my friend, as if it is hiding something more obvious-too obvious maybe. It leaves me thinking, "ok this is a dentist" or maybe "here's a sex change"...Sorry I didn't get it. You need a title that gives us the answer, even if it is vague. The last verse is perfect for fitting the rest together. Funny how right you are; nature and beauty are cousins to money. Wide open for interpretation. I like it, but I can't say why. It's the whole mystery that makes it intriguing, but for the same reason it leaves me lacking the ability to relate to it. Thanks for sharing. I wish I could have offered more! Ellen

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-10-18 14:13:02
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi my friend...This poem, while quite profound in nature, does give insight to your long absence. Its melancholy theme is only over shadowed by your superb writing. If someone else had written this I would have read it once and moved on thinking of it as a rant or a pity party and nothing more. Your writing always has substance and says so much more in between the lines that you chose not to write. Personal problems, of any nature, can be so overwhelming that struggling up and out of the abyss is as painful as the dilemma that put you there. Your line...."God made nature for weaklings" may be true to some, but God made life for the strong. The weak may limp from one day to the next but the strong grab the day and don't let go. Life....that is our full time job. Having said all that I hope you are back with us to stay. We have all been gone from each other far too long. My best to you and your family always. Forever....Mazza

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2006-10-18 13:39:55
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
MAH, I'd rather read you then ogle the moon. Yet, both activities share a certain delight. You want substance? No, you don't. We're birds of a feather. Who the bleep has time for . . . analysis of that order? Better to write a poem. Or read another good one. Cheers, my blokey friend. MSS

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-10-18 10:16:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Yes, rather "untitleable" than untitiled, a distinction not lost upon me. Had you placed the closing stanza, however, in the place of the first, "God made nature for weaklings; the rest can have all the beauty that money can buy," it would have been entirely another matter. And MSS could have accused you of my style of didacticism. Of course I would have been gratified. In this work among your own wonderful style of original imagery in abundance, one example of complex imagery I like the most is in the line, "his mutilating (so suggestive of mutating) looks like perfection, alchemy that anodizes my leaden terrain with a golden lustre." Too easily the reader could mistake this line for just another cliche' treatment of an old man and his legendary philosopher's stone, but here it is much more. To fully grasp this one must know that the alchemist's credo is, what virtue is found in the intent is achieved in the result. The power of expectation, in other words. At least applied to good works. The clue to the bizarre purposes opposing nature, this feature among modern times has taken, is additionally suggested by the tone of the poem and by the opening lines, somewhat suggesting the self-indulgent permissiveness of drug induced stupor and the objectification of appearance (sexual attraction) bears sublimation dubiously. An understatement. You have here, I hope, intended more than reflection of passing mood mixed with observation, but sought more astute penetration of the human condition. Thus you would no longer simply wallow in the mess, but rise above it. JCH

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2006-10-18 07:22:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Good Morning Mark.......interesting read and no title........so many different ways the title may have brought you yet its nice to know you are allowing my imagination to take shape and run with it. Good structure, word flow keeps me tightly in, and yes, images are popping out at me ........interesting way you wrapped it all up too. I am a weakling for nature and all its colorful glory at this time of the year but Mother Nature has taken most of it away with heavy rains and winds. Hope all is good thanks for posting and perhaps we shall meet again, God Bless, Claire

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