The New Masters Poem by Daniel Brick
The New Masters
They appear to be too heavy
to move often. They must
settle deeply into a place
they arrive, calling it home
almost immediately, as
their massive feet sink
into the layers of mud
and sludge that seek them out.
Then begins the balancing act
they must perform three times
a day, to prevent
crashing whole-bodied into
the mud-sludge ground. Even as
they balance themselves, they sink
a further two or three inches:
only now can they look at their home.
They bend forward cautiously,
arms outstretched, palms downward,
careful not sink further
into the mud-sludge. And they sway
slowly, seeking that perfect
balance they believe exists for them
on Earth. It's all done by ancient
instincts. Their voices emit a bass drone.
So these are The Barbarians, they
have inherited the Earth. It's our fault
they can settle firmly here: we lost
our balance, abandoned the required
ceremonies, forgot even the rhythms
we had been taught. Most of us
are gripped by the deepest sleep,
where dreams alternately promise and accuse.
They are the new Masters. Lately they
have begun to howl day and night,
rarely can we hear the original drone.
And they crush delicate things, flowers
and shrubs, humming birds, top soil,
ruins of our forgotten temples,
with their slender spires of colored glass.
They shove mud-sludge into lakes and rivers.
(A Last Stanza, Added Years Later)
Could we have been so wrong They are
on the move now, stomping the now hard
ground with their freed feet. The syncopation
is unmistakable. The Master are heading north.
Those of us awake are drifting back
to once familiar places. Does it matter?
Often I question myself: Who are you now?
figures, often in hordes, often stomping in a fierce dance,
People are so well cultured and so ingrained in noble values so much so people as such have become blind to inhuman astrocities. We tend to find some some noble excuses to the situation. Great thought-provoking poem!
Thank you Paul. We can only hope the next generation wises up and doesn't dumb down to destruction.
I like it much, Daniel! There is some deep philosophy in it) One side (often new or just suppressed before) can become prevailing, if the other one (old) isn't confident enough. And it's not surprising that the confidence is to be lost when you're out of trials for too long.
Hi Daniel. I adore these latest poems, this one as well as the one referencing Gilgamesh. I like the way you imbue these characters with modern human tendencies and quandaries. Your references add depth, yet these are not esoteric poetic pieces in that they work at multiple levels with or without understanding of the original texts or art. Lovely work! I so enjoy your writing.
Probably somebody much more insightful and informed than myself could dissect this poem word by word and squeeze every bit of meaning out it that it embodies. Knowing my limitations I'll avoid doing that, but I must address the sludge. The invitation to these horrid destructive barbarians of beasts. The lifeblood of the evil invaders. The stuff these monsters seek out to take root in, yet so calculatedly make an effort to avoid being consumed by. These layers of mud, they must be the hard times of man, the evils of society? When solid ground has seemingly abandon us and replaced itself with a volatile ooze which the great monsters of the world can call home and reign over. Yet even among the swampy pit there is beauty, at least initially. Remnants of a more prosperous time. But during their reign, this horde manages to defile even those things. The flowers the hummingbirds and the temples. The barbarians are all consuming, all destroying, and in their sludgy lands, they become their own victims, sinking gradually beneath the layers of filth and decay which they have sought out. Evil doers do meet their justice, but not before spoiling everything that is left worth living for.
The time is not distant when the Barbarians stomp heavily and tread through the entire breadth and depth of the Earth ousting us of our inheritance and displacing the unwary humans from the face of the Earth! These monsters could be anything............ some brutal force, a nuclear outrage or an erroneous dogma! However it is unpredictable what will be our fate some hundred years from hence! A wisely conceived poem in beautiful diction!
Valsa your comment goes right to the heart of this poem. Ernst's Barbarians are truly monsters, other times he calls them The Horde. I agree with your list of three possible monsters in our world. One ting is certain: Whatever fate strikes humanity, human being have caused it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/16/2024 4:21:37 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I understood the intent of the poem and enjoyed the craftsmanship with which it was written, but will have to google the painting to get the full depth
Thanks for your support Kelly. Max Ernst made a series of these paintings, any one of which will show why the subject inspired me. His fear was European Fascism in the 1930s. Don't we ave much more to fear?