Wednesday, September 07, 2011

The Documenting

A war photographer measures success in scars
to see human things from outside -
his guard against impending sensory attacks,
like men wearing only balaclavas
ripping burkas from dangling corpses
in a theatre of oppression.

From the right he hears dark-robed shaggy faces chant:
“Wear it! Wear it! Wear it!”
And the Nike-swooshed hoodies on the left shout:
“Show your tits! Show your tits!”

In the balcony he cuts himself, sucks the blood,
macros his forearm’s red bubble,
whispers, “God is Great; Capitalism’s workings Mysterious.”
He’s faceless as the men on stage
in snatching the soul of the stoning.

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Despite being a journalist, I can't seem to resist hacking out verse. Worlds collide in this one.
Lol. Look, if you can find meaning in the comment, so be it.

On the other hand, there is a journalistic quality to this piece. It's like the war photographer itself, it captures an image that leads to strong (if unpleasant) emotion.
Subject and observer, inseperable as ever.
can't help but agree. This piece definitely is a report on various human conditions. It also foretells something worse: human conditioning.
As in the old movie, "Medium Cool?"

Reality has a way of snapping back at you.
X: Much thanks. Indeed, the eye for detail should be a good thing in a poem.

Toast and Eric: nailed it.

Ivan: Haven't seen that one but, agreed, reality bites back.
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