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berlin-bad-saarow-017.jpg

 

Berlin

 

by Red Haircrow

 

I want to lay

against the milky denim of the sky

before I settle carefully

over the edges of the buildings,

before I melt to flow along

the streets and spill my waters

into the park lands

and green places.

I'll flow along the tracks

and take the electricity

into me, give it back

into the peoples and they,

full knowing totally oblivious

will move to the song I sing,

dance with the abandon of determination

and speak their languages,

blowing breath back up

to the heavens

where I'll return to rest

and suck it into my mouth.

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I can't quite decide what I think about this poem. I love the prose, and, technically, think it's well done (please bear in mind this is only a subjective opinion--and from someone who cannot write poetry, no less :P). Anyhow, I also find it disturbing, but maybe my mental connections are all out of whack. When I read this, it seemed like a romantised version of suicide. I know, I probably have that all wrong, but:

"before I settle carefully

over the edges of the buildings,

before I melt to flow along

the streets and spill my waters"

 

Okay, so I think, going over a tall building and blood being the 'spill my waters'. Actually, even the first line reads as if the person wants to die to move on to something better.

 

Well, I guess the overwhelming feelings I have after reading this are worry, concern, sadness.

 

Then again, it could be that I assume this to be from a person--perhaps this is a journey of the wind/rain over the city of Berlin.

 

Which brings me to something unrelated to that above, namely, the picture of Berlin. I live in Berlin myself, and was curious what area of the city this is. Somewhere near Prenzlauer Berg, perhaps?

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No it's not about suicide at all but rather a connection with the earth and the old gods. It is a song of joy of the god who can change form to sometimes walk among the city he protects and loves, to move among the mortals and take energy from their worship before he returns to his celestial home.

 

It's the joy I feel in walking the streets of my hometown which is Berlin, and the sensual feelings it can give. Laying, melting, flowing and spilling are all references to intimacy and male orgasm with it's dynamic release of semen, and especially the ending:

"...where I'll return to rest

and suck it into my mouth."

So in many ways, what you felt from the poem was completely opposite. I am quite surprised you gleaned worry, concern, sadness from it. But it is curious, as the men who've read this poem got the allusions immediately and found the poem positive and sexually charged as it was meant to be.

 

The photo I made myself as are all photos I post here or online other places. It was taken almost at the corner of Knackstrasse, yes in Prenzlauer Berg... the radio tower seen from that direction in the background is a definite giveaway :-)

 

 

I can't quite decide what I think about this poem. I love the prose, and, technically, think it's well done (please bear in mind this is only a subjective opinion--and from someone who cannot write poetry, no less :P). Anyhow, I also find it disturbing, but maybe my mental connections are all out of whack. When I read this, it seemed like a romantised version of suicide. I know, I probably have that all wrong, but:

"before I settle carefully

over the edges of the buildings,

before I melt to flow along

the streets and spill my waters"

 

Okay, so I think, going over a tall building and blood being the 'spill my waters'. Actually, even the first line reads as if the person wants to die to move on to something better.

 

Well, I guess the overwhelming feelings I have after reading this are worry, concern, sadness.

 

Then again, it could be that I assume this to be from a person--perhaps this is a journey of the wind/rain over the city of Berlin.

 

Which brings me to something unrelated to that above, namely, the picture of Berlin. I live in Berlin myself, and was curious what area of the city this is. Somewhere near Prenzlauer Berg, perhaps?

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I loved the poem. I suppose that's not a huge surprise. I got a taste of the sexual charge but that wasn't what it was about for me. For me it was about the life force streaming out into the world connecting with the energy, touching everything taking nothing, passing unnoticed by those who are closed to its presence. The ebb and flow of the great stream of consciousness falling like dew or the lightest cobweb, intricate channels connecting everythig and then rushing back to the starting point.. the macrocosm beoming the microcosm again. Almost like a creation myth, allusory of the sharp masculine and soft feminine unting to become the whole.

 

God I talk a lot of bollocks sometimes :)

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Oh, okay, thanks for the reply. Well, my poetic interpretation never was so good. :P Of course, now that it's explained to me, I sorta think *gosh darnit, how could I be so stupid? lol. Anyway, I appreciate the reply.

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No problem at all @Anyta, I appreciate your response because it allowed me to see my poem from another angle I had not considered. I find it extremely interesting!

 

Those were good bollocks @Neph. Almost like a fertility ceremony for me. Remembering an author, I think it was Diana Paxson who wrote a stunning invocative scene of the masculine entity uniting with the feminine, and although the persons symbolising the parts were alone in the woods... every one felt that special magic and across the land all the people were all drawn together as if in a web of creation.

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I already read it on your FB page but I forgot to mention 1 thing...

 

I think it totally ROCKS! ^^

 

Thanks Kia! I appreciate your comment there, and I replied.

 

That sounds wonderful. Of course that was the whole point of Bealtinne until it was sanitised. Who's fertilising the land now?

 

I try to play my part :-)

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