The Pitted Piper
This poem only has one theme that I care to mention. It's a dark poem, yes, and I don't always enjoy the dark, but I refuse to be repulsed by it. Everyone has to endure darkness, so why be turned off by it. I've said this before, but there are things that one can only see at night or in the dark that can't be seen in light as well: stars, galaxies, glow sticks. In the dark is when you might realize that there is more going on than you thought, more hidden behind our own superficial veils of light. Think about all the star systems that could be out there. All the stars that die without us ever knowing. Nebulas are the coolest to me. The glowing algea in Port St. Joe, can only be seen at night over the darkness of shark infested water. In darkness you have a time to reflect on yourself. "Dark" is not just a time for fear of the unknown. David actually says to lay still on your bed and search your heart. When's the best time to do that? A night when all the distractions are done for the day, unless you have to work the night shift. In which case, it's your job to deal with darkness. A walk on our beaches at night is one of my favorite activities. My poem "Dark" is about this exact issue. This poem here has a truly dark theme, however. It's about how people refuse to acknowlege that there's more going on than they realize and they shield themselves from the spiritual darkness by closing their eyes physically. They shut out the reality of the Piper because this dark piper pipes exactly for them. Knowing evil is part of the responsibity we took on when we ate of the fruit. Not always knowing as in experiencing, knowing as in being able to recognize it, decern it. Instead of learning what is evil and what's not, many people have just decided to change the definition of evil or portray evil as just "missunderstood." This poem is about those people. While somethings are missunderstood as evil. Evil is not a missunderstood subject. One thing to remember about evil is it's seductive, or else you wouldn't pay attention to it otherwise.
I took the idea behind this poem from the tale of the Pied Piper. Some high class literature there, but something about the Piper when he piped away the rats and then the little children made me think of our generation. Flattering huh? The rhyme scheme and the rhythym are wacky; try to read it like prose. It's not my best by far, but it's my first attempt using other literature in my own. Anyway, here it is.
The Pitted Piper
The Piper pipes his songs, and
His audience follows and shuts their eyes.
They marvel at this wonderous song.
And they dance ever pleasantly to
His lead.
How cunningly he pipes.
It's just want they want to hear.
The music has captured their affections
And now they’re dancing to the cliffs to
make payment to the Piper's fee.
Dancing on in mirth, following
the music that's played to make them pleased,
leaping up and down in joy,
but they never try to see their pleaser.
They close their eyes and imagine what they wish for him to be.
The music is their guide, they say.
The unmistakeable joy of a pleasing melody.
They let the melody fill their minds
stealing every movemnt to it's cause with
notes as pleasing as roses smell.
The Piper pipes his melodies
Sechronizing just right.
So cunningly he pipes that
None can speak against the quality of the music
that they chose to heed. It works so perfectly.
The Piper’s piping is so soothing to their minds.
“How can anything that makes us feel so good
Be wrong,” each follower cries.
And so the Piper pipes his music
To lead them to the sea.
He pipes less cunningly
as he did with those angels of God.
That third or so that knew what
the Piper piped to plea. They willingly
offered themselves, but these people...
“Piper lead us to your sea,” they cry,
“If it fills us like your melody.”
And so the Pit Fated Piper pipes to lead
these children to the sea, like those rats of old
he leads them coldly because "rats" are all he sees.
So over plains of greenery with their eyes shut
they dance to this music they feel is so much better
than the towering water falls and the crytal
streams that flow for refreshement and peace.
They never want to rest in greenery or poverty of nature.
They dance in the richness of the
music and listen for every note
over the noise of the birds and the
gentle beat of water. They drink the song
like their thirst cannot be quinched untill the cliffs come into sight.
They do not see the vast ocean
and they begin to fall in, like they are falling
into a dark gulf that will seperate
them from the fresh water given
by the one who warned them of the Piper.
But one by one with their eyes
all shut, they fall happily off the cliff.
And not until they loose their step do their
eyes open to the Pitted Piper's mischief
Some look back just as they fall,
And the Pitted Piper stands behind
smiling in purple and dark blue royal clothes
"This is the payment I exact from you," he says,
"For taking part of my wealth and best.
Never I nor you will know the pleasure of a rest."
Satan plays many of us like wooden pipes because we only care about number one; if we have time, other people, and, if we're in deep crap, God. I don't think the Pied Piper piped the children into the sea, but Satan is all too happy to do so himself.
I took the idea behind this poem from the tale of the Pied Piper. Some high class literature there, but something about the Piper when he piped away the rats and then the little children made me think of our generation. Flattering huh? The rhyme scheme and the rhythym are wacky; try to read it like prose. It's not my best by far, but it's my first attempt using other literature in my own. Anyway, here it is.
The Pitted Piper
The Piper pipes his songs, and
His audience follows and shuts their eyes.
They marvel at this wonderous song.
And they dance ever pleasantly to
His lead.
How cunningly he pipes.
It's just want they want to hear.
The music has captured their affections
And now they’re dancing to the cliffs to
make payment to the Piper's fee.
Dancing on in mirth, following
the music that's played to make them pleased,
leaping up and down in joy,
but they never try to see their pleaser.
They close their eyes and imagine what they wish for him to be.
The music is their guide, they say.
The unmistakeable joy of a pleasing melody.
They let the melody fill their minds
stealing every movemnt to it's cause with
notes as pleasing as roses smell.
The Piper pipes his melodies
Sechronizing just right.
So cunningly he pipes that
None can speak against the quality of the music
that they chose to heed. It works so perfectly.
The Piper’s piping is so soothing to their minds.
“How can anything that makes us feel so good
Be wrong,” each follower cries.
And so the Piper pipes his music
To lead them to the sea.
He pipes less cunningly
as he did with those angels of God.
That third or so that knew what
the Piper piped to plea. They willingly
offered themselves, but these people...
“Piper lead us to your sea,” they cry,
“If it fills us like your melody.”
And so the Pit Fated Piper pipes to lead
these children to the sea, like those rats of old
he leads them coldly because "rats" are all he sees.
So over plains of greenery with their eyes shut
they dance to this music they feel is so much better
than the towering water falls and the crytal
streams that flow for refreshement and peace.
They never want to rest in greenery or poverty of nature.
They dance in the richness of the
music and listen for every note
over the noise of the birds and the
gentle beat of water. They drink the song
like their thirst cannot be quinched untill the cliffs come into sight.
They do not see the vast ocean
and they begin to fall in, like they are falling
into a dark gulf that will seperate
them from the fresh water given
by the one who warned them of the Piper.
But one by one with their eyes
all shut, they fall happily off the cliff.
And not until they loose their step do their
eyes open to the Pitted Piper's mischief
Some look back just as they fall,
And the Pitted Piper stands behind
smiling in purple and dark blue royal clothes
"This is the payment I exact from you," he says,
"For taking part of my wealth and best.
Never I nor you will know the pleasure of a rest."
Satan plays many of us like wooden pipes because we only care about number one; if we have time, other people, and, if we're in deep crap, God. I don't think the Pied Piper piped the children into the sea, but Satan is all too happy to do so himself.
posted by Joel Obadiah at 12:40 PM
1 Comments:
The night is most definately one of the best times for reflection. When we were living in mud huts I liked to sleep on the roof where it was quiet. There was hardly any light so you could only imagine what the sky was like. It was there on that roof that I felt God speak to me like I never heard Him speak before. It really pays to take the time out of our daily lives to reflect on what really matters. Sometimes, it is that simple reflection that keeps us from following the Pied Pipper to destruction. I enjoyed the poem. It was somewhat dark, however, it is the reality that we must face.
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