Malice Un-forethought, Wizard Award ~ A poem Options

[Guest_Jox_*]

© James Oxenholme, 2005. I, James Oxenholme, do assert my right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of The Copyrights, Designs And Patents Act, 1988. (Laws of Cymru & England, as recognised by international treaties). This work was simultaneously copyrighted in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the United States of America. This work is posted as an unpublished work in order to elicit critical assistance and other helpful comment, only.

Ref: TC 0359 AD (Thanks, Fran, Dani, Nina and Alan )


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Malice Un-forethought
by TC

Prometheus, a modern man,
forged in heat and fire:
a hundred-thousand volts
powered his electric birth.

I shall call you St. Norme:
You shall have a saintly future;
a normality for all humankind.

Limbs working; voice talking,
he strode across the land.
A man of parts lived in him,
yet he only existed in them.

Yearned to be whole:
as the race from which
he’d been forged.

Though people shun
such different men:
at best to be ignored.

Asylum denied.
Dejected, he turned to his God:
Why have you rejected me?

The good doctor, gone bad,
could only weep:
You are a race apart;
different: a threat.

So St. Norme turned:
he fought against all.
Love, companionship denied:
others’ lives, liberty he took.

From conception, he had
no chance; no future.
He changed his ways, his name
to become what they made him.

Hope begat misery;
desire begat slavery;
destiny begat tyranny.

St. Norme begat the Monster.

(end)

=========================================
TC 0359 AC

Malice Un-forethought
by TC

Prometheus, a modern man
forged in heat and fire:
a hundred-thousand volts
powered his electric birth.

I shall call you St. Norme:
You shall have a saintly future;
a normality for all humankind.

Limbs working; voice talking,
he strode across the land.
A man of parts, lived in him,
yet he only existed in them.

Yearned to be whole;
of the race from
whence he’d been forged.

Though people shun
such different men:
at best to be ignored.

Asylum denied, dejected
he turned, to his God:
Why have you rejected me?

The good doctor, gone bad,
could only weep:
You are a race apart;
different: a threat.

So St. Norme turned:
against all he fought.
Love, companionship denied:
others’ life, liberty he took.

From inception, he had
no chance; no future.
He changed his ways, his name
to become what they made him.

Hope begat misery;
desire begat slavery;
destiny begat tyranny.

St. Norme begat the Monster.

(end)

====================================

NB: "The Modern Prometheus" is the sub-title of the gothic horror novel, "Frankenstein" by Mary Shelley - which bears little relationship in its portrayal of the Monster to most films (save Kenneth Brannagh's).

NB2: the original Prometheus was the chap who stole fire (amongst other things) from the Greek gods and gave it to mankind. They were rather hacked-off by his behaviour.

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[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi James

I haven't looked at any of the other crits or comments yet but here are some of my rambling thoughts.

Prometheus, a modern man
forged in heat and fire:
a hundred-thousand volts
powered his electric birth.
I know this is a serious poem but the image I get in my head from this first verse is the scene from Carry On Screaming when Kenneth Williams first brings the monster (Odd Bod or something like that) to life with the flick of a switch and all the electricity sparks around him, bringing him to life.

I shall call you St. Norme:
You shall have a saintly future;
a normality for all humankind.
Interesting name St Norme for  the idealistic vision the creator had of perfection and an example for humankind to follow.


Limbs working; voice talking,
he strode across the land.
A man of parts, lived in him,
yet he only existed in them.
this verse gives the first indication of the separation, loneliness and feeling of being on the outside, not belonging.

Yearned to be whole;
of the race from
whence he’d been forged.
the desire to belong and be accepted

Though people shun
such different men:
at best to be ignored.
this sums up how we treat anyone who is different.  The best they can expect is not to be noticed rather than blatantly snubbed or treated with disdain or cruelty.

Asylum denied, dejected
he turned, to his God:
Why have you rejected me?
interesting that you have used the word God for Prometheus' creator who has abandoned him to fend for himself.

The good doctor, gone bad,
could only weep:
You are a race apart;
different: a threat.
That people see anyone who is different as a threat, just about sums up racism and also comes back to the theme of a couple of your other poems dealing with Fascism and and more specifically Nazism.

So St. Norme turned:
against all he fought.
Love, companionship denied:
others’ life, liberty he took.

From inception, he had
no chance; no future.
He changed his ways, his name
to become what they made him.
To be accepted he has to change from the ideal and example he was created for.  I find this verse very disheartening.  Why can't we celebrate and accept differences as the norm and learn and grow from those different qualities?  Why must everyone have to be the same to be welcomed and fit in.

Hope begat misery;
desire begat slavery;
destiny begat tyranny.

St. Norme begat the Monster.
It goes against St Norme's nature to be like everyone else. He can't be happy It is all an act and to be a convincing actor he goes to the other extreme in an effort to prove himself/be powerful and hence the monster is created.

Another very thought provoking poem, that gives a very bleak, depressing view of humankind.

Nina