On Focus: “I saw a creature…bestial…”

On Focus: “I saw a creature…bestial…”

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Focus, man. Focus.

I don’t do this often, and I don’t know if I’ll do it again. Feel free to mark this day as “weird.”

“So, what’s new in the WORLD?”
Asks a demon in my midst.
“Funny thing you should ask,”
I breathe out from behind my bars.
“I was going to ask you the same.”

That was from the late 80s. Note the similarities, if you will, to my favorite poet Stephen Crane. I don’t know if it was my intention to ape his style so closely, but I did it nonetheless. If you’re unfamiliar with the poetry of Crane, allow me to post this one (since it’s public domain and all that jazz):

II
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter, bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”

Stephen Crane, 1897
Stephen Crane, 1897

Crane was a depressing soul, really, and in his rather short life (he died in 1900 at the age of 29 from tuberculosis) he created powerful works and left a legacy I have no chance of ever matching (nor, in truth, do I think any current author can). I’m not a literary scholar; rather I’m a literary nutcase. That pretty much means I want to know who a person was, what they wrote and why they wrote it.

In the early 1990s, after a bout of depression, I quit reading Crane. I figured it would just bring me down even further and taint my view of life. Perhaps by the time I stopped, however, my view of life had already been tainted.

Something to think about.

Here’s another poem I wrote in 1991.

Through a blanket of rain
I have seen the horses come,
Black steeds,
Seething breath,
Red eyes ablaze,
Pounding hoof upon the WORLD
I have seen them come for me,
Calling my name,
Reaching for my soul,
Red eyes,
Burning hatred,
Pounding hood upon the WORLD
They come,
The come for me.

Pounding hoof upon my heart.

I recall the genesis of this poem distinctly, and yet I don’t know why. I had been performing my duties on the edge of the flight line at Shaw AFB. It was at this time that there was a constant rotation of F-16 squadrons through Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm. It was, in fact, the feel of the afterburners from two F-16s taking off in tandem that really sparked the lines “Seething breath” and “Burning hatred.”

For those not quite familiar with Crane (again, we’re back to him), check out this passage from his seminal War is Kind published in 1899 after he’d spent some time as a journalist covering the Spanish-American War. (By the way, if you didn’t know, Crane wrote Red Badge of Courage in 1895 with no war experience. Between the publication of that novel and this poem, he’d been a witness to quite a bit in both Greece and Cuba.)

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom —
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Currently, I’m in a debate with myself with regard to the project I should work on next. I have three projects outlined and two in progress. After finishing one, it’s sometimes hard (for me) to decide on the right path. That’s not a good thing, as I feel the need to maintain a focus as I did last year. Having so many projects without a focus is “…bitter, bitter.”

Maybe this is Stephen talking to me, the ghost in my attic who won’t leave me alone until I return to his work and continue his legacy. I like to think there’s a small chance a soul can move forward, infest the direction of a future soul and merge continuously through history until perfection is reached.

But that’s a different something altogether I won’t get into now. (It has to do with reincarnation.)

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