It's not you,
It's not me,
It's not him
It's the world that has been
sucking us back in
to the dark void it's yet to fill
devouring our rainbows and
any shade and trace of light
and everything we hold dear
It's not you
It's not me
It might be
the words of a madman that
have devoured me piece by piece
ever since
until I suffocate and dissolve
into the nothingness I feel
at 3 a.m.
And I'm sorry if you knew this only now.
It's not you
It's not him
It's the constant fear
that has built a home
out of the shanties of my heart
Pulling the strings,
the triggers
on its whim
And I'm sorry but it's already won the war, I believe
It's not you
It's not me
It's not him
It's the inevitability I cannot escape
And so in silence, I shall
roam this world and carry
the memories of us,
your buzzcut and my smile,
and the glow I basked on with
in that April afternoon.
Forget about me.
Introduction
The concepts of madness and suicide have captivated and mystified generations of scholars. Shakespeare seems to be obsessed with the portrayal of insane characters and their ultimate self-killing in his tragedies. In fact, the Shakespearean tragic characters such as Othello (Othello), Lady Macbeth (Macbeth), Brutus (Julius Caesar), Ophelia (Hamlet), Timon (Timon of Athens), Cleopatra (Antony and Cleopatra), Goneril (King Lear), Mark Antony (Antony and Cleopatra), Cassius (Julius Caesar), Romeo (Romeo and Juliet), Juliet (Romeo and Juliet) and Portia (Julius Caesar) may have certain flaws in their characters but they would not have taken their own lives away unless there were strong and negative influences from the external forces in the society. In other words, they are made utterly frustrated and depressed by the people, their actions and behaviours.
Therefore, they lose control over their minds, act irrationally (as the decision of committing suicide is not logical and it is the proof of madness) and lead themselves towards self-destruction. In this sense, they have not committed suicide; indeed, they are murdered by the instigators or social agents! It would be clearer to understand by an easy example- the so-called ‘suicide’ is similar to the way a murderer stabs and kills someone or someone who pushes another person down from the top of a building. The one we call ‘murder’ is committed by using weapons like knife, pistol etc. which we can see and touch but the murder in the guise of the ‘supposed suicide’ is committed by using weapons that we do not actually see or touch such as, spreading rumour, constantly pressurising someone psychologically, hurting someone’s self-esteem badly and the like. For instance, Iago drives Othello towards the point of insanity by spreading rumour about Desdemona. He suffers psychologically as his honour is at a stake and his self-respect is ruined. As a result, Othello murders his wife. However, after finding that Desdemona is not adulterous, Othello loses his rational mind and acts as a mad man; he stabs himself with a dagger and dies beside Desdemona’s corpse.
Othello in Othello
Othello, the Moor of Venice, has married Desdemona, a young lady from Venice. They have a strong bond between them since Desdemona has respected Othello’s love by eloping with him. She has deceived her father so that she can stay with Othello forever. Undoubtedly, Othello is a leader of great stature. The Venetians honour him because of his valour as a leader. However, great leader and stress are similar to the body and the shadow. He has much tension on him. But, only stress does not drive Othello towards ‘madness’. Indded, the combination of the stress, envy, and loss of honour act as catalysts in making Othello insane. Therefore, he does not hesitate to murder his wife. We see a mad Othello when he cries:
thou hast set me on the rack.
I swear ‘t is better to be much abus’d
Than but to know a little.
“Who is he?”
I whisper to myself
as your eyes gaze off to the distance
and treat me with the unbearable silence
I’m a little too late, I guess,
I hear your eyes scream, they confess
It is him who holds your heart
The one you’d rather hold your hand
Under the city lights
In a cold November night
But my love for you is greater than his.
So do the honor and list down the things
you so liked about him
Watch me burn myself with a pile of leaves
and reborn as him
Just let me be your light, your candle tonight
I can be him, your lover, if you like
I’ll cut my wrist, drain the blood my ancestors
passed on to me
Replace it with the words he whispers
when I’m not around
Let his words flow down my veins so you may speak
and tell me all the things you never say to me
Slit my throat with the screen of the phone you use
To capture his face, his smile, the perfection, your muse
Because you never even once
took a picture of me
— or maybe my image is just
too hideous for you to keep?
What strength of lens does he use, you say?
I can smash mine down if it’s not the same
Use the shards to peel off my skin I so badly hate
Blessed is he to have the kind that keeps you sane
I’ll unclench my claws I’ve spent years to build
Pull them out and mold me his hands and feet
Let the blood spritz all over the room
Let them spell: HERE LIES A HOLY FOOL,
WHO SURRENDERED HIMSELF FOR LOVE —
BECAUSE HIS LOVE WAS NEVER ENOUGH.
Tell my mother I died a sweetest death
And I’ll be waiting in line in the Day of Resurrect
Pour out the gasoline all over my corpse for the final touch
Say a short Ignatian prayer before you strike the match
Watch my skin; watch my veins turn to ash, turn to dust,
as I’m enveloped and swallowed by flames
‘Cause I’m tired of fighting, I’m tired of asking,
“Who is Carl, baby? I’m James.”
From now on, call me Carl.
It Sounded Like Popcorn
By JFarrell
It sounded like popcorn
Was my first thought
A lot of popcorn
At one in the morning
Opening the bedroom door
And turning on the light
To find myself blind
As a wall of thick, black smoke engulfed me
Going to my balcony
And looking over the edge
To see bright, angry orange flames
Licking at the walls below me
Grabbed coat, 2 bottles of water
And a towel
Knocked door to door
Warning the neighbours
Went back to do the other side
But opening the door to that area
The smoke was too thick
And I retreated
Ours was not a serious fire, thankfully
And was quickly ended
I cannot even begin to comprehend the events and loss
In the West London fire
My deepest sympathies and prayers are with you
As I’m sure are the prayers of many others
And, again, I’d like to thank the emergency services
And all those who helped
Love does matter and can heal us all
What do say when no words can offer comfort?
What do you feel
when theres no empathy
that could possibly resonate?
What can you do when words
freeze at the edges of your lips
and dont dare come out
because it doesn't even begin
to cover gape left open?
They might as well plunge to the depths of the abyss.
What can you do?
You hug.
Stormy, stormy ships quietly love a cold, lively sail.
Fourteen years ago today tragedy struck and my life has never been the same
I remember it like it was yesterday
Within seconds it was all over and I knew that it was gonna be the last time ...
For everything
Blunt force trauma to the head
On life support ... no brain activity
She's brain dead
She's taken off life support
This is not how I imagined saying goodbye
She'd just turned 3 and I'd just turned 5
I'd been forced to take on the mother-like role before it was my time
But I didn't care because as far as I was concerned, I was her mother
Through no fault of our own, we were robbed of our childhood and our innocense
He has no conscience
No remorse
He's a fuckin' sociopath
"We, the jury, find Donnell Joseph Demetrius Dutch guilty of felony murder."
He escapes the death penalty and life in prison
He's sentenced to 40 to 50 years in prison with the possibility of parole; (over my dead body) plus an additional 17 years for negligence and he has to do half of that 40 to 50 year sentence before he's eligable for parole
He's dying in prison
I don't know if he's came to that realization yet,
But on everything I love
I will ensure that he spends the rest of his days behind bars
It's not a threat
It's a promise
R.I.P. Layla La'Chelle Randolph (Mogwai)
April 9, 1999 - May 5, 2002
"Guardian Angel"
Like the relentless rain,
Tragedy befalls on me,
As if hear I the sitar’s sad sound,
As if talks to me Melpomene!
Why does misfortune,
Follow me like a ghost constantly?
When will this end?
I have no idea truly!
Like the day and the night,
There are ever misery and delight!
Brother,
I will die for you.
But please, do not rejoice –
this is not a declaration
of my loyalty to your life.
I plan to kill myself tonight, brother…
for you – please do not try
to stop me.
I do not want to hear
of my life's value; I
do not want to hear your rage
at the thought of my
perceived uselessness.
I know my life weighs on your soul,
and challenges your style of living.
I know that we clash
more often than we intertwine, and
it is for that reason that I
choose to die.
I will rid myself
from your existence,
for you.
I do not say this to implant guilt;
please do not misunderstand.
I choose this path, brother, because
I love you. More than words
can ever hope to describe
in a world filled with words
callously used to hide behind.
Sister,
I will die for you.
Please, hold back your tears –
this is not honorable.
I will end my own life…
for you.
Do not worry; I love life,
and all of its splendor.
The trees call to me
in sweet tones that allow my
mortal mind to forget time.
I am allowed space
to unfurl my physical trappings,
to relinquish my understanding
to the Soul of the World and
refill my cup with eternal love.
The symphony of life quells
my restlessness in
ways Western medicine seeks
to mimic, but cannot quite replicate.
But my reverence for such beauty
is in opposition to construction
and progress. I cannot abide
endless consumption, so I
will remove myself from this
global equation,
for you.
Lover,
I will die for you.
Do not look at me with such disdain –
this is not Shakespearean tragedy
manifest.
I poison myself because
I long to die… for you.
I am not naïve;
I already dearly miss your skin,
the current surging within
that revitalizes my soul.
I will forever hold your love
as the pinnacle of this physical world;
the height of true majesty,
paling the purple of the mountains
from the land we came from.
Most of all, I adore your eyes,
as they diminish my existence
with the immensity of Gaia’s power,
wrath, and benevolence… I
will miss those fiery windows most of all.
I realize my Aquarian tendencies
leave my head cloudy with images of
utopia – images in stark contrast
to our civilization,
this reality you remain grounded to.
I know that is why we are no longer
in each other’s arms; your absence
shaves my humanity, membrane by
membrane, so death seems
inevitable. Why not cut
to the chase?...
for you.
Humanity,
I will die for you.
I will not be a martyr – I
am not strong enough for this world.
I imagined myself an actor
in a new age play,
a catalyst of a movement toward
enlightenment. But I am
meek, and incapable of lasting
through to the end of this struggle.
When hard times come,
as they always do,
I will not be here. Someone
more capable will take my place
beside you. Someone with
unflinching bravery and
unlimited strength to guide,
and be guided by you.
I am sorry and I apologize;
it cannot be me. I
am weak.
CLF 2015