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Thread: Poem: The Savior

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    Post Poem: The Savior

    The Savior



    When he was 30,
    no one was dancing.
    The people were impotent
    devoid of confrontation.
    But he had ideas, therefore he danced.
    The people only laughed at him
    or ignored him
    or spat upon him.

    A few watched him dance.
    They heard his song,
    saw his eyes were full of the future,
    heard his words. He gave them hope.
    They joined him in his dance
    but the great majority were in pain.
    They didn’t want a dancer;
    they longed for a better life

    When he was 40,
    he surrounded himself with dancers.
    He danced naked for the people.
    They could see all that was to be.
    They saw his heart was red, white and black.
    It endeared them, compelling them to dance.
    They could see his loins were flaxen,
    his penis, blue as Nordic ice, was diseased.
    They paid no attention and begged him to dance.

    His people lifted him upon their shoulders
    so he could dance upon their heads.
    They didn’t see the precious few
    who were dying under his heel,
    struck down by the dancing of his people.
    The miracles had started,
    those who had been jobless were working,
    those who had been hungry could eat.
    The people stood tall again.

    When he was 50,
    they gave him a parade.
    Now all his people danced.
    Many more were laid waste by dancing feet.
    None of the dancers took notice.
    The entire world refused to take heed.
    His people made him a god, for his dancing.
    Great nations came and danced with him.
    They gave him everything he requested.
    Nations gave away nations.
    Many suffered and died but many more rejoiced.
    “He will be happy now,” they said.
    He continued to dance.

    To his own he was a dancing deity
    whom they supported above all things.
    They revered him.
    They displayed his wonders for the world to see.
    He worked another miracle.
    He bade his lifelong enemy to dance.
    The Bear joined him, dancing with Uncle Wolf.
    Shortly thereafter, Uncle Wolf shot his neighbor.
    Everyone stopped dancing.

    He died before he was 60.
    Millions whom he danced with
    and upon are dead as well.
    He was a prophetic man.
    He proved that time and chance
    befall us all.
    There is one who will
    take up his song in the future
    Soon, the people will dance again.



    Author Unknown

    http://selfexpressionsunlimited.org/SELF_EXPRESSIONS/Publication/Pubs-Current/Spr2003/SE-TT1.htm

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    Thumbs Down

    I found this poem while surfing, and it was only by chance that I actually read it. Now I can't stop reading it.

    Is this poem for, is it against, is it neutral? There is evidence to support all three possibilities. I doubt I will be allowed to do so, but I would like to analyze this poem for my university professors. Yet, I doubt it will be possible because of the subject matter. At any rate, I personally think this is a wonderfully surreal poem, dark and menacing like a grim children's story, and yet sadly uplifting.

    Well, you read it and decide for yourself.

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