Nice to see you.



''They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes,
Within a dream.''


2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)


Many stories and poems published worldwide.
My work is raw and from experience and observations.
I never studied writing and never will.


Contact: anthonyjlangford2@yahoo.com.au


Life lived - more than the method of death



She was much more than 'that'




As regular readers will be aware I occasionally use the theme of violence in my poetry (and stories), particularly assaults, rape, king hits etc, the notion of 'unexpected' violence in lieu of a better phrase, visited upon the undeserving, a state of affairs often witnessed that fills me with rage, (no doubt having arisen from the fact that I've been assaulted twice). There's quite a lot of violence in my novels too, with realistic ramifications to victims and flow on effects. Unfortunately, these works are still yet to be published.


Below is one such poem, the crux of it being that the victim, if deceased, is often remembered for the way they died. Sometimes they are overlooked almost entirely, the focus going to the perpetrator. What about the person as an individual and not purely as 'victim'? What about the life lived?

The poem goes a little deeper than that, as you will see.



Prior


They forgot about her
The focus on the perpetrator
Became priority
As it’s always been.

She had existed
For 24 years
Prior
And yet her demise
The struggle
Such as it was
For seven long minutes
Became the entirety
Of her existence
A media story sensation
A slap in the face
With the bulk of her life
Washed over.

It is difficult to comprehend
What happened
It is too terrible
I don’t want to contemplate
The black
Beneath the clouds
But it exists
With or without awareness
So we say farewell
To the gorge of lies
And clutch at vacancies
Wherever they scatter
Though treachery
Hungers close.

Lies are near from those
Whom we should trust
Friends, lovers and enemies yet 
Divide, sniff, deny, bodies separate
Keep an eye out
Here comes the reality
Saturated fat
Ready to smother.

So laugh and scatter
Amongst the fleeting frivolity
And self-imposed distractions
While neglecting to prepare
For something worse
The shock awaits.







www.nocaptionneeded.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/Iraqi-mother-grieving



5 comments:

  1. You relay a very profound and important, dark but true message, Anthony. Eloquent yet sobering.

    Be well, my friend, and thanks for your support of my article.

    xoRobyn

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  2. Interesting idea, being known for the way you died, not the way you lived. In a perverse sought of way, some people want it that way, ie, people who do mass killings. Liked the lines And clutch at vacancies, Wherever they scatter. Your poem started out as one of your more infomational type ones that tell a sought of newspaper type story, but then the langauge became more heaped in meaning.

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  3. I have an ache in my chest a sadness in my heart and a numbness in my head. Very well written and subject in the light of recent events of the two little girls. What is our world becoming?
    Him

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  4. A dear friend of my sister and her husbands was diagnosed with motor-neuron disease about 18 months ago & he's only in his early 50's. It has ravaged his body very quickly and the doctors have said he only has months to live. His wife decided that she didn't want people focusing on his illness & his death. She decided to have a party in his honour for herself, his family and close friends to come together and celebrate his life with him. So rather than contemplating a wake after his demise they celebrated the life of a wonderful man with him so that nothing was left unsaid. I thought this was truly wonderful!

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    Replies
    1. Ive tried to reply a couple of times Katherine. Not sure what's going on. I get a lot of spam to this particular post for some strange reason. its even deleting my own comments here. lets see if this works. if so, i appreciate yr story and time to comment. thank you.

      Delete

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