AN ODE TO THE CENTURY PAST

Many fine things here, your trademark weave of fantastic, philosophical, factual, visionary. The subtle shift of the new-neo-last utopia puts everything in question. The "despair, disrepair" pair yoke the hard realities to the bruised soul condition.

Some of us may feel we really belong to this now-gone century. Visitors are we, in your new, casually-marketed Utopia, but for how many years or decades yet? Can you tell us that?

Thank you John and Amy for your appreciation and kind comments.

The answer to the question of how much more time the New Utopia has to run lies within our own hearts for each one has the power to nurture or to destroy that ideal state.

John's comment on your unusual visionary style, full of metaphysical paradoxes, is very insightful, and your response to his questioning of any new utopias possible after the destructiveness of the 20th Century--pointedly highlighted by your play of sixes as symbols in our mind--really provocative. Idealism can be construed as an etiology of sorts that leads to what Isaiah Berlin showed was a goal of "positive freedom" (dreams of what is best for all) that inevitably leads to totalitarianism, where the few determine what is best for the many. Perhaps only in a focus-group driven culture where the many can channel their hearts toward an ideal solution (instead of thinking like consumers only of their self-interest) can democracy transform itself into a utopia of "negative freedom" , almost algorithmically, by finding the preferred solution for individual issues, and achieving an equilibrium that is not systemic, but rather ad hoc for each case but as a whole creates a way of living together where different values, attitudes and lifestyles are respected.

Visions of utopia have to be tempered by pragmatism seems to be your deepest underlying message in this poem of hindsight and reflection , that lucidly shows how our dreams can unravel before us.

This essay poem, with its sharp imagery and its focused irony, truly made me wonder if utopias from the time of More until now are nothing more than the shadows of hope that dystopian conditions of the present give off in the eternal present.

Boris, I'm sorry I haven't returned your recent emails. I will try to catch up on your recent work in the next few days. I enjoy reading your writing very much, I hope you know that, and always find it fascinating and relevant.

A sad, good poem, Boris. John and John
and Amy have voiced thoughts for me.
Except to add: I am thankful for the bits
of wildness and wilderness still in exsistence
and the chance to be alone with them.

What an ode to history repeating itself. Carefully spun and cleverly woven, the word choices evoke powerful images while allowing the work to "spin 'round" on itself. Great imagery and careful timing create a truly wonderful work of art!

Very good. I'm no poet and I know it. This was really good work in my opinion though.

Your utopia is creativity through the written word
Your utopia is poetry with carefully collected imagery
Planted so colorfully on the page
I feel the rage and clumsiness of my own grasping
For the diaphonous wings of perfection in this bipolar dream
The utopia of our age

The juxtaposition of the death of an iconic peace crusader and the wartime extermination of millions for existing shows the sweeping nature of the emotional destruction of the last century and is ultimately a powerful condemnation of "then." Yet now, even as we see the age of chaos and unpredictability in the rear view, our utopia remains only a dream, as it always will be. And now we attend to our Last Utopia, until the next one.

The Spirit Dance is Unfolding.

Thank you for your comments Tom, it's good to have another John fan read and appreciate this poem.

Ah Bawaqqawa pousse pousse

Boris, thanks for adding this to the group: it's featured today on Friday's Gather Essentials: Writing.

Thank you for featuring this John - much appreciated.

I loved this poem, Boris. The narrator's voice seems so wise, yet wistful. And the poem's topic transcends all those poems about simple love and hate, cracks in the sidewalk where a johnny-jump-up sprouts.

Maybe you'd write a piece describing the process of writing this poem?

Thank you Brad and Susan for your appreciation.

Boris,

This is about as dark, and as political, as I've seen you. You sound a lot like John K.

This poem is a haunting story we all know, told very creatively. The sixth stanza, however, seems to be pure surrealism. It stands out as such, and I can't reconcile it with the rest of the poem. It's like a poem within a poem-- and I like both of them.

I agree with what Rev. says above. I'd like to see you add on to this.

Boris, Upon re-reading, I like the first half of the sixth stanza. This is the bit that I stumble over:

"and/giant bullfrogs ate pygmy antelopes/hooves, bones and all."

This is a lovely departure into some incredible imagery, but I am having trouble seeing how it relates to the rest of the poem.

yes, I understand what you are saying Ann.

I guess what I was doing in that sentence was continuing the general theme of the poem, namely the persecution of the defencelessly innocent by the ugly forces of brutal inhumanity but conveying this theme in a surrealistically metaphorical way.

Does that make any sense Ann to you?

Prior to this point you were describing only the objects of the action, and your decriptions were fairly literal.

Then you introduce the "do-ers" of the action (symbolized by bullfrogs), and at the same time you switch to surreal imagery. Having both things happen at the same time is confusing and leaves the reader without a frame of reference.

I think it would take only a little re-wording to fix the problem, though.

It is dark but it should be. Sometimes, life is horrific. Coincidentally, I had this up as a tab while writing my article about Polanski's The Pianist, but I had not read your article nor known of its contents before finishing my article. Another eery wavelength coincidence. You are Kafkaesque, my friend.

Thanks for posting this to Poet's Weekly Muse.
I will feature it and also post another comment written after a recent reading:

Brilliant and melodic dirge chills me in its prognosis of doom for the existence of humans who can dream of utopia but are incapable of achieving it because we lack refinement.

Dark, with depth and captivating.

what a great dreamscape!

((( Hope in this "Last Utopia." I pray and push forth faith...wonderfully written. )))

I adore the use of imagery in this piece and your view of utopia existing only in our dreams. This speaks to me on so many levels. Thank you for posting to our group. You are now featured.

Very good.
Congrats.