Detail from The Taking of Christ by Caravaggio
in the National Gallery of Ireland
Freedom
Freedom
is a cage, embrace the bars.
Consider
it, did you ever ask to be born?
Were
you ever personally consulted in the matter?
And
what about death? apart from the obvious-
Suicide
was for Camus the ultimate
Expression
of human freedom –
Again,
what freedom do you have?
Even
breathing, again it is out of your control,
Apart
from regulating; your heartbeat the same!
You
see, you are on autopilot my friend.
Now,
take any other part of your anatomy…
Yes.
Think about it? So, you see,
There
is very little freedom there.
Freedom
is a cage, embrace the bars.
I’ve
been meaning to write the above poem for a long time. I had the aphorism which
begins and ends the poem for a long time now and I just needed the right idea
to come along so I could sandwich it, as it were. The formulation follows another
fourteen liner which was published by Fly on the Wall Press in the UK
just before Christmas last year. This brings me to the sonnet as form, again.
Normally,
I follow a 4/4/3/3 variation in verse, even when I’m not, if you get me.
I
wrote an essay recently about the importance of the numbers 3 and 4 in ancient
Hebraic geometry and its significance for both Joyce and Beckett in relation to
Finnegans Wake and Comment c’est/How It Is. Their interest goes
back to people like Leonardo Da Vinci and Vitruvius who were concerned as both
scientists and artists about the ratio of perfect forms, wo/man being one in
terms of physical beauty.
The
number four is symbolic of God, or total knowledge. The solid shape being
robust enough to withstand the pressures of the world. Three then being
synonymous, at least for thinkers like Beckett according to my research, with
human knowledge, or human capacity. In other words, somewhat to be found lacking… the
missing quarter!
To
return to sonnets. The opening eight lines usually treat some theme, lofty
enough, usually. Love or freedom being typical. Both transcendent notions,
evocative of “God”, or the unlimited beyond if you prefer, In other words,
somewhat out of the reach of us poor mortals. The last two verses then, in the 3/3, bringing the theme crashing back to earth, grounding us in reality. Hence the
almost kick in the teeth punchline effect of a good sonnet. Baudelaire was a
genius at it. Of course, he had vision. Man was doomed from the very beginning,
in his eyes…
A
note on this post, and others like it. This post is only temporary, as I will
be taking it down as soon as I decide which journal or magazine I decide to
send it out to. I have been doing this now for some time. This is the ‘benefit’,
if I may call it that, of following my blog. As you will get access to material
that you would not have if you were only to look at it from time to time, as it
were!
This
poem is taken from malus the collection I am currently working on. So
far three poems have been published from it. One, as mentioned, in the UK
another, written in French, in France, and most recently another has been published
in a biannual online international surrealist journal here in Dublin. But that is
another story
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