To Create, Eliminate

[contention]

Of every city, of every street
Where Carpenters hands curve to meet;
By towers tall to alleys thick:
Built within, brick by brick.

Where blossoms bloom and roses spread,
From tip to toe, from toe to head;
Sunsets trickle, lunar birth:
There shall set the sea, the Earth.

Chapels sprawled on brimstone shores
Guiding light, where light implores
Crossing heathens, dark of day;
Teaching them the blessed way.

Beaming, gleaming, burning well;
Fire, fire, far from hell:
Placed aside a’ mortal spire,
Molded sweet, as sweet is dire.

Soils swelled on blankets jade,
Colors where the past will fade;
Twined by root, burned to sage
Ashes in this modern age.

Beauty, beauty, what we shape,
And what we make is what we break;
Beauty, beauty, through us all,
Living life, till life does fall.

Cursed by God beside our gains,
Nursed beneath His mighty reigns;
Rushing, running, all men full
Pushing, pushing, few to pull.

Is not in justice, gentile law,
Nor Heaven high to valley small;
For fear is far of loves true flame,
One shall burn, the other tame.

Two to see the Devil grin,
One to know that they were men;
Men who faced the gift of right,
Men who stumbled out of sight.

Battles burst, tearing down:
Taking all without a sound;
War the bell, war the ring,
Inevitable as the dawn of Spring.

Fickle leaves, we rise in grace
Doomed to sway right out of place;
Down, down we all will wilt
On this town that mankind built.

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This poem, was someone written with a diffrent standard. However, it strangely turned into this after a bit of time. It was somewhat the influence of an idea, sprung by Johanan in the share of things. This poem is written, in essence, to "two" diffrent people. Whom that may be, is a mystery and stains as such.

The structure of the piece is oddly put together; established on the power of what mankind does, and what he is. It is said, that we will constantly create the greatest of things. As if, it's some immortal gift that we've been given, right from the hands of some higher power. It runs through us all, the talent to build, to make something new for everyone to see. Then, when we do as we do; we destroy them at random. We don't leave them be, we take others ideas and crush them as we please. As if we grow with envy, and pay no attention to the efforts of those around us. Humans are born with amazing powers, but as they begin to understand them, they neglect them. Treating them to the wrong sort of use, it is a negative base; we are not focusing on what we should be. The poem was written on a conversation that Johanan began one day, mentioning that men would do amazing things and then leave them be. As if they didn't matter, that he would just move on to something new. That is true, and it also accounts for nearly every daily thing. From doing a duty, to having a friend; you can create something, but we destroy them with our knowledge. We bicker to much, we throw things at each others precious belongings, we become outraged; we are ignorant, destructive.

Starting off with the first stanza of this piece, an introduction is made simply on the creation of what we do. Showing the work of a Carpenters hands, the establishment of society; where we thrive, it's beautiful illumination. Then it moves to natural beauty, set by the second stanza. It speaks of Roses and Blossoms, each covering the ground in every square inch. This also goes over humanity with its use of "human anatomy" terms instead of ground. We are blessed by beauty, but we ignore it, it's not apparent. The sunsets trickle and lunar birth is the revolution of our day; when the greatest light fades and the darkness dwells. And there, deep in it's presence lies the bounty of the Earth. Cradled by Civillization, warmed in it's filth. Chaples on Brimestone shores for the third stanza is a religious take on things; however this is not meant to offend or to go with. It states that these "beams of faith line on 'brimstone' shores". Brimestone is often debated as hellish grounds; it's ironic. From there, they release their guidance, showing man the way to better days.

The beaming, gleaming stanza, or the fifth, merely illuminates a type of maternal warmth. Something that all men suckle for, looking for that very dear heat to attatch to. It is not evil, it is not from hell; nor fire even near it, it is our own and that is the such. In our hands, this "gift of creation" is warm, but it can be used for the worst of all inventions. The whole soils stanza, or of the fifth, magnifies the gestures animated in the ground. Jade, used not entirely for the message of grass; but for the symbol of the color. Something very envious, dirty, sexual; and in that, the past will fade, away into the darker parts. The seventh is an obvious stanza, what we make is entirely what we get rid of; we are sinners, and we live with this fact. Perhaps we are cursed or blessed by God, regardless we all remain under his "reigns", he rides on the chariot we control. We can try to be diffrent, try to go another direction, but all men must push along. The last few stanzas become apparent from the rest, simply put.

[Fluory]

So since I have absolutely no idea what's what in poetry, I feel really weeeeeeird posting this. However, I really enjoyed this poem. I actually read it around, and then my sister was all like, "what are you whispering about?" from the next room over. I swear, she eavesdrops on me.

But anyway, it just sounded beautiful when I first read it in my head and read it aloud. The way it flows is just really, really nice. The words you use are very vivid and really cool sounding. And also way more precise; I quite like that. As per usual, I am rubbish at interpretting poems and thusly interpretted this as a mixture of your high esteem for Joshi (that just might be my insecurities speaking, though), your family that has the weird surname of Carpenter, and some fascination with fire. Go literal meanings! The symbolism of this that I totally missed due to my fairly logical mind makes this even nicer.

I think it's a beautiful poem.