The Mutilated Dead Poem by Nika McGuin
The Mutilated Dead
room full of chairs
what do most see?
Inanimate objects
artfully constructed by man?
Foreign parts pieced together
wooden frames
burgundy seat cushions
and metal chair glides
room full of tables
to accompany them
but what do most see
its all too similar
another inanimate object
a shelf full of books
bound in leather
with pages that flap nonstop
but I suppose that is inanimate too
back to the restaurant now
the waiter has brought the meal
a beautifully decorated plate
upon which lies a perfectly cooked steak
food is all they see there
but, you may not yet see what I'm getting at here
we are so disconnected to the world around us
when death becomes normalcy
we don't have to think about it
we don’t need to care about it
so the origin, or the process
of how it arrives before us
never crosses our minds
these chairs are partially dead material
so are the tables, deceased brownery
the shelf, the books, the bindings, and the pages
and especially the steak – a dead animal
we are surrounded by carcases on the daily
this is the world that man has created
built up by tearing down the life around him
he has always been a cruel usurper of crowns
even writes his own book claiming the earth as his own
I'm not saying start a rebellion and build an army
just take the time every now and then
to realize that the world around you
is so much more than it seems
that a chair isn’t just a chair
it's a dead body carved by an artist
and the dead deserve to be respected, no?
even the mutilated dead
i came to find a poem by nika to enjoy, and i have not been forsaken. the worst i can say about it is that i think she forgot (or we can blame it on PH) to put an apostrophe in it's. its all too similar. this is one of those very thought-provoking and clever poems i sometimes like to read. i was just thinking recently about foods we eat being dead body parts. of course it didn't slow my chewing! and i recently wrote a poem, un-submitted so far, about wood and how it has been used by man in its raw form and its decomposition forms (at least i think wood sometimes goes into the making of natural gas and petroleum and coal) . nice going, nika. thanks for sharing. soon i shall go have a dinner of dead plants and arrested chicken eggs. THANKS, rice, carrots, peas, onions, and chickens for giving of yourselves so that others might live! :) bri
I had just finished typing the two questions closing my comment on A TINY AVENGER regarding the possible guilt at eating animal flesh when I turned to THE MUTILATED DEAD and Voila there was an extended treatment of this issue by you. I like the way you built this poem by assembling your data before revealing its significance, and then letting the data almost overwhelm the reader - at least, the sensitive reader, who shares some of your concerns. In the long run of things, there's no way out of this conundrum - on earth, life preys on life; it's the economy of survival. So, you appropriately close the poem by appealing to the reader's sensitivity. This is a heart-felt and honest poem. There's no preaching, but there's a full measure of awareness.
This is an interesting write Nina. Invokes a lot of deep thoughts. Nicely done!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 1:24:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
also: this is my favorite line [actually it is YOUR line]......... even writes his own book claiming the earth as his own and i'm already feeling more respect for the wooden chair i'm sitting on right NOW! bri :)