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Rantings of the Divided Mind, Part IV
She takes no prisoners the war of the mind but if you look you will find that within all are enslaved torn up, broken down, beaten, depraved. We cannot hide that deep inside two worlds collide as side by side good and evil both reside. Each part that tries to see through lies meets with death or certain demise For finding truth stolen in youth means nothing less than seeing this that at the core we all know more about the bloody game that fills us with shame. Game or not itâ€™s what we got to learn to live now we give our life of hell from deep in the well where murderous rage meets with the sage wise parts inside who come to guide mistaken rage to turn a new page. Realize the lies that bound her mind and sever the ties that do bind her to the dark find the spark of lifeâ€™s true light seek peace tonight. But murderous rage is not alone sheâ€™s one of many who made their home in darkened well the belly of hell where demons loom and truth is doomed it takes so much energy and such to wage this fight with all my might. Whatâ€™s the point when every joint aches and moans with every groan from muscles that strain to bury the pain, anger and shame that each part they do stain. I tried again to find the end of this tormented tale but the light grows pale as we seek within the mindâ€™s din. No resolution or solution to this war any more. I want to scream â€œPeace will be found! Enough youâ€™ve had to be bound to dark evil lies that sabotage tries to seek the light of truth reclaim our lost youth.â€ But spinning round again once more evil spins its evil lore - naÃ¯ve parts become numb as their minds do succumb. Peace and hope are no match for the terror that evil will hatch and reign upon all those inside who dare to speak against the lies God damn it! Why canâ€™t we even begin to see the light of day in darkest night when terror reigns besieging fright wreaking havoc spreading grief as spinning round we lose belief that hope or peace will ever come to still the panic of the gun shot in the air no itâ€™s not fair but just to scare anyone whoâ€™d try to outrun terrorâ€™s reign and unending pain, anger, guilt and shame. I told you once my soul is black once its sold no buying back. Did you know lifeâ€™s worth in gold? One soul is fine but Iâ€™m told many from one is rarest treasure and such itâ€™s worth is rich menâ€™s pleasure! So round and round we go again, spinning fast falling within, soldiers were made slaves we became - how are we not to blame when by our hands many have died others hurt because they tried to break free from evilâ€™s lair no matter what the cost or fare? I tried to write this poemâ€™s end, but I have found once again a spinning mess within darkness. Perhaps tonight it is not meant to be to write the final words for me.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2011-03-26 10:53:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
Mandie, before beginning IV (no, not intravenous), let me just respond to the past. In â€œIâ€, you had the masterpiece- maybe of a lifetime. I wish I had spent time with it last month, it would have topped my list. The integration and expatiation of all that occurred was brilliant. It was a transcending piece. In â€œIIâ€ you took the micro view out of â€œIâ€. There was the confusion, the run on thoughts and sentences. It really took the image of confusion and placed it into a verse that accented the dereliction of life, or the courage of living, if you will. In its own sense, this was a level of perfection. Oddly, it lent me to think of Charles Bukowski- maybe not exact, but in style. You might have done him, better than I did, without meaning to. As she â€œhides awayâ€ I wanted to hold her and tell her she isnâ€™t alone. That is writing. In â€œIIIâ€, is the images of two taken from the inside out, the conflict and guilt. I often wonder what that guilt is- all I know is the woman is in such conflict and yet remains courageous throughout. Maybe not the internal courage, but to the world there is a level of continuity that preserves the woman for the next day. Your accented lines: I KNOW ENOUGH! BUT, I DONâ€™T KNOW ANYTHING! & I HATE KNOWING AND I HATE NOT KNOWING! Says it all. â€œwe will have to figure this outâ€. And there you leave us- with hope in spite of the detours through hell. We are to IV, or as I like to think, â€œthe determining factorâ€ Once again I have to wonder how innocence was taken in youth, and how the demons that torment are not mollified by the knowledge of the woman. Maybe, as a matter of vision, IV says just that. â€œI told you once my soul is black once its sold no buying back.â€ â€“ are the opening lines of the last stanza. Leading to those the is the chaos and the hope. The hope defies those opening lines; and the fact that â€œPerhaps tonight it is not meant to be to write the final words for me.â€ ends the piece, shows that there is exactly that next chapter to be written. I know the torment, the courage, the extravagant struggle. Behind there though, are glimpses of the tender, the woman, the lover. I hope sometime, to see her emerge a bit more pronounced. Either way, your series is a masterwork living.
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