|Reviews for OneWay Mirror|
| Amaris chapter 1 . 12/24/2002
I wonder what the "she" and "he" represent. You mentioned in the description they were not specific people... I think I have found a pattern. I tend to like the ends of your poems more. For example, in this one I found from "No disinfectant is ever needed..." on, to be very good. I liked your connection to Icarus. The last stanza makes a nice ending touch.
| Commie chapter 1 . 12/24/2002
Okay, I know I don't ever have the time to review your poems, so here goes:
1st Stanza I'd like a little more from this stanza, cuz it gets a small bit across as to what the poem's about, but I would like to just have more WABAAMM power there. WABAAMM trademarked by Comrade Woo of the MSU, all rights reserved.
3rd Stanza Perhaps you can somehow connect this a little more with the 1st. It's definitely got some similarities there, and you can use that to your advantage to give you power over your reader. Power's always good..
5th Stanza bolster's a cool word, one of my favorites actually. It's up there with communism.
6th Stanza the word "ungracefully" really rips on your flow there, but perhaps that was the intent, because it gives the reader pause to look over the next few lines. ICARUS!
7th Stanza flank is a cool word.
| Impressionist chapter 1 . 12/11/2002
beautiful...to the extreme. I can't even pretend to know who "he and she" are, however. but that could be because I'm doped on delirium and slightly confused at the moment. Something about this just tears at my heart. you seem to be talking maybe about how society sees you...or a certain few friends...but it seems to vague to be that. I don't know. I'll just be impressed and leave it at that. well done, my friend.
| Guest chapter 1 . 12/10/2002
Oh look, yet another review from me. Who would have ever thunk it? I don't know where I would ever have gotten the idea from...
Well, it looks as though I may be able to rant again, as usual. There's usually something worth ranting about and by Jove I think I've found it...or at least a reasonable facsimile, or slt. (umm, cheese). [ooo, I came up with a better one! "Stupid little troll." I like that one, especially in relation to myself! hehe]
How 'bout we take this one apart line by line, does that sound good? 'Course it does! It *always* does...[shifty eyes]
Creativity, eh? Creativity, as a direct object *and* a personified one at that, suggest to me that it is not "creativity" as much as it is the Muse. The muses, of course, thanks to my extensive knowledge of the beliefs from the film Dogma, are angels (I think...[shifty eyes]), and therefore, a Muse's ugly twin would probably be something to the effect of a demon. I'm not saying that *you* are a demon, but perhaps the narrator feels as though she (assuming) were one. And that's my first little tid-bit of the demon/Muse rant.
The stars, despite your personification of them here, are inanimate objects, by all standard understanding of their existance...I suppose there are some whacked out sun worshippers who would beg to differ...maybe even try to sacrifice me to their god with a giant magnifying glass...but nevertheless - inanimate. But, as with your poem, let's assume for a minute that they did have the ability to seek death.
Really, what they're doing, is waiting for death, since death is an inevitablity on any part, including theirs. So it's not really something that they would actually seek out, because they wouldn't have to...unless trying to commit suicide, and I'd just love to see a star trying to use one of those candle-snuffers on itself...maybe Michael Keaton, or Julia Roberts...ack, off track! Now, yes, the candle-snuffer, Death isn't something that a star, even personified, can seek except being something longed for. Now, it could be said than that due to the inevitablity of death, and that they can't actually seek it out, the comaparison to the "distateful burdens" would essentially be suggesting that the narrator is actually in search of these distateful burdens, though not intentionally. It's like an eventuality, as though it's assumed in the back of her mind that they will eventually come, so why not go looking for them. It's like suicide, really, and one could almost presume that suicide is actually what this is referring to...whether intentional or not...and whether even thought of or not...[shifty eyes...I need an eyepatch...in fact, I need two].
All that for just three lines...this could be a long day.
However, this could also be a cynical take on life. "Distateful burdens" could be a metaphor pertaining to her despising her life as a muse's evil twin (demon) or whatever it really is that she is. Either way, I think suicide could still be something that is hinted at in the stanza, the "burdens" combined with the "death" of the stars, slt. Anyway, enough ranthing on so little of the poem.
Ummm, I cooked myself up a bunch of breakfast sausauges, and they're mighty delicious...now where did I leave that track...
Now, I'm not quite sure what you're use of the word "siberia" is supposed to mean, since as far as I know it's a place rather than a thing or an adjective, here used as a posessable noun and in conjuction with "nadir," which, as far as I can tell, has nothing to do with the other. You'll probably have to fill me in on the lovely little gap. Als I can do is speculate...so I guess that means I'm going to have to speculate, which means...more ranting!
Because "siberia" is used with "nadir," I'll have to *speculate* that they're supposed to apply to each other, or even mean the same thing. Therefore, the sentance that those three lines make up would tell me that the narrator and the Muse (assuming "She" refers to "Creativity") are one and the same, as opposed to actually being separate twins. I don't mean siamese twins, conjoined twins (I think that's it), but that the one is like the light and the other the dark. In otherwords, using those from the poem...sorta...she, the Creativity, the Muse, is the *zenith* and she, the narrator, demon, ugly twin, is the *nadir*. But still like a yin yang; all the same but the opposite sides/parts of it. "Agree, but in vain," adds to this analysis of the nadir/siberia thing since agreement is, aside from agreeing with a persons opinion or factual statement, would suggest to things agreeing with each other, compatablity sort of thing. Therefore, the "in vain" part suggest that, yes, they are different parts of something that is trying to be one. It's like an inner struggle...how deep!
Then this thought of her's comes into play. More often than anyone would probably care to admit, people are finding their words or thoughts on the tip of their tongue (or, as I've said for online chatting, "on the tips of your fingers"), but this is worse. It's not just *on* the tip of her tongue, it's perching there. A "minnowing thought," suggesting fishlike qualities, then acting like a bird...strange. Kind of suggest that this thought has no definate form, and that it can be fish and bird at the same time, while looking something like a giraffe (I quite like that image). But aside from that, the thought is perching; this kind of makes me imaging this thing sitting there and teasing the narrator, taunting from a perch on high, out of reach and laughing at her.
The thought is that of the agreement, I presume, based on the sentance formed by the lines. Therefore, the thought that is taunting her is doing so because it knows. It knows how vain it is for two oposites to co-exist as one without conflicting with each other. And so it laughs at her for trying. Veeeery intersting! I always like trying to say that in the stereotypical Albert Einstein accent, you know the one, it's the exagerated german accent that sounds almost russian...very entertaining. I sometimes like to read my poetry like that. I think I was reading one last night that way, and finding that it actually sounded a little better...very strange...veeeerrreee ienterrres'tink!
He. Suddenly there's a He in the poem, and no way of telling who He is. Perhaps, going back to the initial rant of this review, in other words, going back to the whole muse/devil thing, them being angels in one form or another, than it could be assumed that God has a part in all of this. And, lo and behold, God is a He, generally speaking of course; it's the whole capitalization thing, "He." Then, if it is God that she's talking about, than God is the one who is putting her, as a demon, away behind, as you've put it, "a glass case." In other words, hiding her where everyone can see her, but unless they break the glass than they can't actually touch her...sound a little like Hell to you? I think so.
Something collected is something captured, really, if you think about it. There are people who collect animal hides; they go out, shoot the beast in the ass, and then mount its head on the wall, or make a carpet, or give their wife a new fur coat, slt. Collecting is a game of hunting, hunting for the right peice of the puzzle that's going to complete your collection. Therefore, God has captured the narrator and mounted her on his wall - his wall of Hell, slt.
The air, the life-giving gas that feeds us animals and plants alike. It flows through the empty space of this world and makes us wake up each morning, day after day. Theoretically, it would be a hellish world to live in if there wasn't any air...if you know what I mean, what I'm getting at.
However, the use of the adjective "mellifluous" suggests that this abandonment in Hell is almost desired...either that or it's another cynical point of view...oh no, those sausages were so good but they've left an awful mess in my stomach...ooo, I can feel you down there you dastardly little tubes of meat! That's right, I can feel you churning and bubbling...I'll get you for this, just you wait... Okay, whoa, that was a little waaaay off track there, holy crap! Anyway, what was I saying again? Oh yes, a cynical point of view; it's almost satirical, or ironic, in the way this abandonment is described as something kind of smooth flowing through the cracks in the glass case; it'd be like describing the movement of a poisonous gas cloud as it drifted toward you, encompassing you and eventually destroying you as being a cute and loveable ball of gasious fluff. It's quite interesting indeed. It could also be reffering back to the inevitability of death, as this seeping into the glass case seems almost as equally inevitable, as though the narrator was almost expecting it ("Oh, and there goes the cayote, falling off the cliff again;" hehe, good ol' Warner Bro.'s).
"Winked at by demons"
- They know something, perhaps something that the narrator doesn't, or maybe what the narrator doesn't want to accept or admit. Maybe they know she's a demon just like them; winking at her as if to say, "hey, you're one of us now; why don't you come join the party?"
"Pretense gasps easily:"
- This could bounce off the meaning of the line above, meaning that because she's a "demon" and denying it to herself, the demon's winking at her is confirming that she is what she doesn't want to be. So her makebelieve world, her game of pretending to be what she's not is gasping, is shocked by the sudden realization. The gasp comming "easily" only suggests that because of the whole sudden realization thing, the gasp pops out as if it was in fact known all along, and the gasp is more of a wake-up call, reminding the mask to reasert itself. Slt.
"Wintout any sign of shame."
- The mask isn't ashamed of what it's doing, plain and simple. When it realizes that the truth is about to smack the narrator in the face point blank, it has to cover it up and make it all warm and fuzzy again (kind of like my poison cloud...though having nothing to do with this). Doing this, though, doesn't give the mask any shame at all, and since the mask is actually just the subconscious of the narrator, then the whole denial thing comes into play where the subject doesn't even realize that they're denying it to themselves. Slt.
"No disinfectant is ever needed." Does this mean that the narrator likes her current situation? Does she feel as if what her life is like is actually perfect, or as close to perfect as possible? I suppose so, since it would make sense. She has maids and soldiers to help her, "bolster [her] economy," as it's put; people helping her to cope with everyday life, in other words, friends. They "curb [her] levity," bring her down to reality, help her see what's real, things like that. (hmm, "tlt"...nah, people will think I'm misspelling "tilt" or slt. Then again, maybe I'm misspelling "salt.")
It's like they're what make this life livable, and in effect, also what makes this life needless of the "disinfectant." I mean, these friends even go as far as to "anesthesize the masses / And apply the placebos," meaning that they help even the mask to thrive. That's all a placebo is, a pretend medication for a pretend illness, aiding a mask that hides the truth. Even then, often these people taking placebos know that they are, but they can't help it. It's all part of the denial, I guess. You can tell yourself, this other you, a mirrored reflection, a thousand times to listen and stop what it's doing, but it wont listen. I figure it's gotta be a separate entity of its own...slt.
Oooo, allusions allusions allusions! Okay, maybe only the one, but hey, I got to use the word "allusions" in context! Icarus tried to do what he couldn't do - fly toward the sun - which is esentially what the narrator is doing. She's trying to deny the existance of the other, or to deny her own existance as it is. And the narrator, being only half a person, cannot separate herself from the whole. It's like gravity and man: Man cannot escape the Earth (without a lot of thrust) and though we can fly over the land, we inevitably come down again. I suppose that brings in the (now becomming) theme of inevitability into the remainded of the poem.
The muse and God: "She withdrew and he laughed." Again the laughing, God laughing now as I pictured the thought laughing on the tip of her tongue earlier. That's an interesting parallel...perhaps I'll come back to that. She, being the Muse, withdrew, but withdrew from what? "Paradoxes stemming from grief," therein lies the answer. See, the Muse withdraws but, in fact, doesn't withdraw...perhaps it just looks that way. I believe that's what a paradox is, essentially, when something appears to happen when something else happens? Kind of like deja vù or something similar. Reminds me of that bad Chris Kristopherson movie, "Millenium." What a bad movie that was, and yet I watch it almost every time it comes on TV, and believe me, the big Toronto station tends to play it at least once a every third month it seems. Damn B movies!
"Nagging," another word that could be applied to the whole taunting theme that I found in God and the thought on the tip of her tongue. Now it's the paradox that is stemming from the taunting. "Inconvenience;" much of life is really inconvenient. I mean, just look at death, doesn't get more inconvenient than that. Some people, you know, just when they're getting to a high point in their carrer, maybe their life, poof! drop dead of a heart attack. Or some people want to say goodbye to their loved ones before they die but, oops! someone decided to get behind the wheel after downing a few too many. That's pretty damn inconvenient, if you ask me. However, I think I may have caught the wrong train there, so I'll have to get off at the next station to see what's happened, maybe find the right one.
Comming up behind them, runner up, comming second. God and that damn Muse kicked her ass again, right? I mean, if life is considered a race, and sometimes I think it is the way people drive on the streets with two feet of snow on the ground, than God and the Muse really scampered off and left our narrator in their dust. And for what? A "secondhand spotlight." I see that cynicism is something that is most likely as aspect of this poem, since that's what I see blatently (almost) in this line. A "secondhand spotlight." I mean, it's not even a brand new one; it's just some cheapass one bought at a garage sale, or at Goodwill, or, you know, found in a ditch or something. Death. Success. Salt...wait a minute, that's definately a typo... assault? No, not that either... meh, I think you know what I mean.
The whole poem I see being about the inevitabilities of life; death being the biggest. There are hardships, there are "goodships," there are potato chips, and there are chips off the old block. These are things that are unavoidable, but there we are, or the narrator if you will, trying to see the world as a perfect, straightfarward place where everything is lavender and leprechauns (ugh?). And the cynical views of the world, of life, come off as being examples of an ironic twist, as though these are the things that we're waiting for.
I don't think suicide has much in the way of anything to do with this, though I suppose it's suggested (in my mind) simply because it is an aspect of life; it is something that can be done to make things go a lot more mellifluous, so to speak. Slt.
As usual, it's quite a good poem, and even has a good flow to it when reading it aloud, though practice would be necesary if reading it aloud when reading it for the first time...I got hung up at one or two places where the rhythm wasn't all that clear and I had to go back to read it again to get back into the rhythm. That's not a complaint, since I've seen it before - including in my own work, which is annoying, to say the least, but not in this case. (Why do I get the feeling that somewhere there's a shoe in someone's mouth?)
Anyway, I should get a move on. I need to brush my teeth 'cause there was still some dirt in the treads that's now stuck between my molars. I'll give this one:
I thought happy faces might be a nice digression from the everyday.
Quod vir sum, certus vobis dicere est orbem destructum sum.
| frenchfries chapter 1 . 12/3/2002
"Creativity's ugly twin" wow... nice saying,i like. very cool!
| peachykeen chapter 1 . 12/1/2002
I like this one a lot! And guess what! I know who Icarus is/was! We read about him in English when we were reading The Awakening and I SO got ALL the symbolism there! That was a good day. Anyway, it's time to define some words: mellifluous, levity, and sui juris. So, there was whole lot of pretense in The Crucible, but I'm not quite sure what it is exactly, like I know it's untangible, but that's about it. Oh! And then anesthesize - that's like knocking somone out in the hospital before an operation, right? And placebos - those are the pills they give to crazy people that don't really do anything, right? I don't think that I've ever written this much before - what does it mean? I just don't know! Anyway though, tres bien, and I'm excited that you're going to rhyme again.
| the Queen of Jupiter chapter 1 . 12/1/2002
Wah, so many big words. Well...it sounds very pretty read aloud. If only I knew what it meant. I think I'll toddle back later and re-read it, when I am feeling a bit more co-he-rent. *pokes the word* And then I'll give you a nice and proper review.
But again, it sounds very nice read aloud. Imagery and all that. Yep.
| miss meaningeverythingtome chapter 1 . 12/1/2002
and weirdly i was listening to icarus by ani difranco when i started reading this. amazing, as usual.
i should start signing my reviews with song lyrics and being all faux deep. would be funny.
| Did I put Wu-Dog I meant Obake-chan chapter 1 . 12/1/2002
Heee... rhymes again! Woohoo(Your poems are good either way)! I need more vocabulary(as if you need to hear that anymore), yes yes. As always, pretty words make pretty images. Even if the poem is about eating someone's beloved puppy! Hahahahaha(?)! Which means pretty poem in my world.
What does 'sui juris' mean?