Cain, you present your grain offering. Your two hands labored day and night For the produce of the field. You present your offering And say, "Look upon my fruit "It is good." Lot, however, gave his beloved daughter To appease the lust of the Sodomites. Broken by this, and also the loss of his wife, Cain, you look upon him and say, "What had this man done that was good? "He gave of his women to be maligned by Sodomites." Lot, who loved his daughter, Felt maligned an entire lifetime For this sin. He had cried day and night Yet, it was either her, or the Holy Being. For, they would be slaughtered By lust, had Sodom's lust not been appeased. Oh, Cain, you look upon him, disgusted. Then you say, "My brother is poor "Why had not my mother killed him in the womb? "For he grew to be a lazy shepherd "And does nothing all day, except peer "Into the stars of heaven "And spin Idle tales by which he wishes to teach the peoples. "He is lazy, and is a degenerate. "For I know his sins, that he has done far "More wickedly than I. "Therefore, why had not my mother buried him "And his poverty in the womb? "For I am rich, and right, "And have grown my crop by my own sweat. "And all my brother did was stand in the green field "To tender his flock."
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England’s Difficulty Analysis by Seamus Heaney
Title: The title is half a phrase common among Irish Nationalists. “England’s Difficulties are Ireland’s Opportunities.”
- Seamus is saying that he moved like a “Double Agent” among the “Big Concepts.” That is to say, that he sympathized with both sides. A double agent usually has no allegiances.
- He’s meditating on the word “Enemy.” He likens it to a machine’s hum, that is distant and in the background. Likening the Irish Rebellion to a “Machine” in the background of the nation. Much like our current Conservative movement is a hum in the background of national politics. It’s there, and Seamus Heaney is talking about how he moved through both camps, the IRA and the English. How he moved between each circles, really understanding the conflict. The outbreak of civil war a hum like a machine’s engine.
- An allusion to Nazi Germany. “When the Germans bombed Belfast.” Probably to obfuscate the poem’s meaning. Or, likening the environment to something like World War Two. It was a big deal to the Irish and English. Maybe something we fail to realize over here across the pond.
- This line is synthesis between the two major events, the Irish Rebellion and World War II. Both had their explosive moments, and both were probably whispered about. It seems so far away, but a likened analogy is that of the Conservative movements today, in the United States, silently, like a machine hum, in the background. It’s ever present, and there are whispers about it from the grown men. Seamus is speaking of it as a child, maybe remembering the bombs in World War II. But, also, remembering the ambiance of the modern day Irish Revolution. Perhaps he’s hearkening back to a day when the two sides were working together. Quoting “England’s Difficulties” as a unifier, making analogy that during World War II the two fronts were united.
- There was an active propaganda war against Ireland, where the Germans funneled propaganda into the Irish homes. Seamus is talking about listening to the propaganda, with half way zeal. The fact is that the propaganda wing of the Nazi party was trying to turn the Irish against England. It is what the poem is talking about. And Seamus is half sympathizing with the notion of rebellion, and half not. Hence the half quotation in the title.
- Lord Haw was a man who broadcasted Nazi Propaganda into the houses of Ireland. Obviously, being likened to an artist. In hind sight, we see that the Nazis were one of the most terrific forces of evil in history, and there is hardly a byword more synonymous with evil than Adolph Hitler and the Nazi Party. However, under the fog of war, people were questioning their allegiances because they hadn’t the full knowledge of the extent of Hitler’s Evil. They were caught up in a haze, and even Seamus sympathized with them. It’s likely a source of shame for him.
- The last line is certainly a reference to the IRA and English confrontation. Not to Nazi Germany, as Seamus was only a boy at the time. The poem is an analogy of the Fog of War, and how no one truly knows who the good guys are until the dust settles. Seamus was carrying envois for the Irish Republican Army and the British. Seamus was showing himself conflicted at his time—yet he hides the act with allusions to World War II, where he could not have possibly had contact with German troops, since they were neither in Ireland, nor was Seamus old enough to truly be a part of that war. He would have been only six years old when the war ended. So, the story is an allusion to World War II and likening it to the modern crisis of the IRA bombings in England, how Seamus had half sympathies for both sides of the conflict, which is common among intellectuals and truly gifted men. One cannot fault Seamus for having sympathies, as there is a Fog of War that doesn’t allow the truth to be expressed, and it is likely the issue we have today where many philosophies and ideologies are being espoused, yet only time will tell whose are the right. And that does not mean force; it merely means whose side was in the right. Which can only be known after the dust settles, and the fog of war lifts.
Thoughts: What’s fair is that the work is allowed to be expressed. We tend to forget this as modern day citizens, with our certain moral philosophy, that under the time of crisis, we do not usually know who or which side is correct. It is simply the whims of the atmosphere, and perhaps, embarrassingly, you’ll find yourself on the wrong side with sympathies or half sympathies. An appropriate poem for the modern world, to take a step back and read the masters. Seamus’ experience is very familiar for today, when we have similar crises in our time, and allegiances might be muddied.
Heaney, Seamus. Selected Poems 1966 – 1987. Twelfth Printing. Faber, 1990. pp. 54. Text.
Censures of the Ass
He wants evidence for God's existence; Beauty comes under attack, censorship Threatens to destroy all things of conscience. Evidence, he claims, yet it is his whip Which tortures him like the mad Catholic. Holy is his crusade, holy and thick; Offended and driven mad by beauty That the mountains are hoary and frostbit That the trees are wooded, and the ponds green--- He, with his unholy, black candles lit Sings his prayers to the form of ash decay. Angelic voices he forbids to pray; Evidence is what he seeks to destroy:--- Art he calls pretentious; beauty a ploy.
An Analysis of the Ides of October
- The Narrator of the poem had satisfied all her debts, “Paid for” all the happiness by the “Ides” of October. That is to say that she has no debts.
- She “used” to feel the presence of the child “All around [her].” Emotional and in the past tense.
- The poem then begins to draw some unique imagery. “Slough” means “Snake’s Skin”. As if the snake’s skin was a charm of some sort. The poem will get into further imagery, likening the Narrator to a mythological portrait. That of a woman wearing a Snake’s Skin and hedge of Roses.
- She wears the snake’s skin. Drawing an almost mythological figure for the narrator.
- Drawing from the emotion of bearing a child. She is “Flushed” like a “Peach.” Further making the portrait of a mythological birth, being that the narrator uses terms like “resurrection” in contrast to the sun. I sense no mythological foundation or framework in the poem. The woman is being likened to the Virgin Mary, this mythological figure carrying someone important. Not to the line of idolatry, either. It is simply a feeling, like the Narrator were the virgin Mary, or some figure like such.
- The figure has roses wrapped around her waist. She had made love in the “Ides of October” and bore her child in June. She is likening herself to a mythological figure, with roses wrapped around her waist and a snake’s skin as a sash.
- Now the narrator is in a New October, where she places the family portraits on the “Spanish Chest.” Likening to the archetype of familiarity, likely something she had growing up, or has sentimental attachment to.
- “Imagery”— Describing the child. Since the man is absent in the work, the imagery describes the child with “Emotion” “Animated” in his “cheeks.”
- She alludes to the “Moon” nursing the “Stars.” Emotion driven imagery, drawing the metaphor of the poem that she is nursing her baby.
- The Silk Worms’ nests are likened to the narrator’s child’s hair. “The” is used, setting the child apart from the mother, solely focusing the poem’s emotions on him. It strengthens the emotion of the piece, yet creates the awe stricken wonder of the scene.
- The imagery here is esoteric, likening the child to “Death”. Drawing the imagery from the cocoons, where the larvae must have metamorphosis before there is “Birth”, or the becoming.
- The child cries, and his lips tremble.
- The child loves his mother. The emotional impact of this verse is where the poem’s tension is weighted. She is describing the love of her child for her. Perhaps the poem a metaphor for Postpartum depression.
- The child’s fingers are nude, grasping the mother’s breast while giving suck.
Thoughts: It seems the poem is a metaphor for Postpartum depression. The last line really draws the feeling of the mother, while the thirteenth line draws a metaphor on the baby’s love for the mother. I must admit it’s a bitter poem, but woven are the images of the snake’s skin, which is perhaps foreshadow. Perhaps an affaire brought on the pregnancy, which is alluded to by the absence of the father. The poem expressing the melancholy of Single Motherhood. I think the poem is expressing the wisdom of a mother with a child. She is like Mary Mother of Christ, but on the flip side there is a Cognitive Dissonance entangled in her single motherhood. It’s wielding dual emotions, the conflict of a mother in her situation.
Milton, Gabriela Marie. “The Ides of October.” WordPress, 2020. https://wordpress.com/read/blogs/132705124/posts/8322. 8/14/2020. Web.
Speaking into the Vortex
Speaking into the vortex What is ancient past Is dissolved. None of it is understood As man must relearn the ancient truths All over again. You have worked hard to make This modern world its own context. For, the only thing understood Is what is new, what is visceral What is seen in the present day. Ancient truths happen Yesterday, and the day before And when history gets made None take a passing glance at it. For all things are new. All things are made now. The vortex spins And all of the past has been washed So that men see today And reflect into the past Visions of the modern world. The past? It is forgotten As Ancient Persia Gets replaced by Greece And Greece gets replaced by Some unknown specter which Believes speech ought not be free. Why have free speech? If there is only the vortex? If only the colors in the eye Are what's true? The visceral pleasure The modern vocabulary. Ancient words are but dust Ancient stories So we can make them new? No, just to forget them and the morals they hold. For modernity is sufficed by myriads of facts Which were created by the vortex. We find instances in history Which we deem pleasing And we base our reasoning on such Never once investigating whether it were the norm. It was not. No, but we create our modern world And pioneer it with the present Forgetting the past And living only in the vortex.
Everyone is Speaking
Everyone is speaking Nobody is listening. Therefore, I have chosen a poor profession. Everyone assumes to know What someone is saying. Do they know? Do they really? From my long diatribes, I have learned to enjoy poetry Because it gets me out of my own thoughts And I can invest time in someone else's. It lets me escape my own egocentric predicament And that's the enjoyment of poetry. Of really writing in general Is being able to listen to someone else's ideas. Agree with them. Disagree. Why does everything need to be agreed or disagreed with? The purpose of art Of poetry Is expression. Yet everyone wants to express And nobody wants to know What that poem is really about. I can't make money in a culture Where everyone wants to simply Live in a vacuum of their own ideas. A reverberating echo chamber of simplistic truths Espoused by minds that you can't even be sure are alike. Do we really share blogs with one another To hear what others have to say? Or do we have them to read into Other's thoughts what are essentially our own? I chose a poor profession in the twenty-first century. Great novels cannot be written Because everyone would argue with them. And I think things ought to be left as they are And understood for what they say Before we open our mouths and opine Why that individual is wrong. Or, more necessarily Understand that truth They wanted to communicate.
Amazon in the Forest
There is an Amazon in the forest. Lusty she is, bare, exposed Easy to take and be pleased. Yet, she will tear you limb from limb And take your leg upon her gnashing teeth. She will bite it, with blood down her chin And her hair is knotted with the blood of men. Pleasing she seems far away Until you come close to her And she is too big for loves. You cannot marry her But become her slave Where she will malign you And break your spirit. I say, I have seen the Amazon kingdom And it is frightening. All men stay indoors And are frightened to peep Out the lattice, For the giantess walks among them. Elephant for steed And lust in her eyes.
It’s Said of Kant
It's said of Kant that he built a towering Defense of the Conscience to prove God exists Only to watch it come tumbling down And be the death of God. As I've said, God merely died; And yet He raised. People believe these things are sufficient unto themselves That the conscience is universal among all men. However, it is God who gives men their conscience And it is God who takes it away. Man without God is more like a beast Than the two horses I saw united With each other their lover. It seems the horses understand something that Philosophers will not.
My Politics
The price of a candy bar in 2003 was 43 cents. The going rate at the same store is $1.65. In 1992 a 23,000 dollar a year salary Is worth a 70,000 dollar a year salary today. Amazon pays its employees about 15 dollars an hour. That is $3.20 today's money. Inflation, in the past 20 years, is at 300 percent. Worker pay has stagnated. No, actually stayed at about the same rate. People today, the average worker, is making about 25,000 dollars a year. That amount was like making 70.000 dollars a year today Back in 1992. The Stock Market is at 31,000. The super wealthy are getting more wealthy. And as Cenk said many times, That the 1950s were a good era to live in Let's go back to the tax rate of that era. 70% on those making billions of dollars. Force the big corporations out, The little business will get more business. Not to mention, There's a nasty fact that Walmart Had a local trust developed with its Local warehouses. Squeezing that same store Where I monitored the prices Out of existence. Trusts, if you don't comprehend Are illegal. Oligopolies ought to be. But, since perfect formulas exist The copyright needs to be Only in the inventor's lifetime And unable to be extended And certainly not valid 70 years After the death of the inventor. Who the hell needs the money Beside the inheritors of that wealth? And furthermore Free speech means free speech. It's the same for a Nazi or Antifa. It's the same for a BLM or KKK. That way I'm protected too.
How Can a Common Fact
How can a common fact Bring two different brands of ideology? Trying to prevent the fact from manifesting Brings the very fact repeated Over and over again. It must be because no one can Learn the truth But must relearn it Over and over again Until one day the truth stops getting learned. And on that day A trumpet will sound in the sky And there will no longer be a mankind Of which to understand.