The New Zero

You say
there is no sense
in long nights spent
spinning myself out of glass,
the web of imperfections that
choke out my reflection. But I'll
do it anyway: trace the scars that map
the arms, the rough husk round zerospace.
Taking each new glitch, each old, unspent
love and shaping it into formulae, answers.
And if you could only understand one
thing about me, I wish it were this:
that there are two sides to every story,
and while there's one in composition,
the other's weighting,
in position.

* * *

'God, how self indulgent, I thought, but whom should I indulge if not myself? ... [They are] battle scars. "I have a heart to break" is all it means. "I am killable". ... It was never supposed to be a way of life: it was about survival.' – Emilie Autumn, The Asylum

Sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable – god, I know full well how it can make people feel. But it's something I felt had to be said.

Title is from this song of the same name by Rasputina. I feel it fits.


Please go and see properly formatted version of this here on my deviantart page.

Mermaiden

‘Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies;good night, good night.’ – Ophelia
(‘Hamlet’, Act IV.v)

I’m moving through the mirror again in search of you,
watching shadows of the world appear as the mists clear. I look
upwards through shifting waters, marine gaze
hazed by the chasms of lunarlight drawn vaulted: a litter
of broken jewellery. Quartz-eyed, I watch silted moons
shift beneath the surface, looming blackly like negatives,
a loop of O, O, Os –
holes
in the fabric of the dark. The water’s diaphanous -
a thin skin ravined and seamed by ripples, my breathmarks
that echo as endless spheres – each concentric to you,
my blue muse. For you
are always there, crowned with your
laminaria hair, wraith-voice at the end
of my line, tugging tight. One hand on mine,
the other tearing at the weights
round your throat, you float upwards, unravelling
skeins of myth in your wake. You’re
the lady of the lake, medusa, mother –
paragon heart of pith and chain.
My Other – in you I see
me.

Two-toned, jade-boned, she lies
beneath the tongueless water,
waiting to rise.

* * *

Phew. I was beginning to think I'd run inspirationally dry after last week's little batch of poems...

Now for some explanation:

This was inspired by Emilie Autumn's music and writing, especially her creation of the 'Opheliac' figure - the tragic drowned girl - and her portrayal of the beautiful tragedy of a young girl's death - what Emilie dubs 'the art of suicide'. Emilie mocks these traditional literary/artistic portrayals of women with her wonderful sarcasm and wit, but she also relates to the tragedy 'behind' the tragedy - the true emotion behind the desperate actions of the drowned girls.

I hope to replicate that in this poem: the dismissal of culture's misguided portrayal of the artistry of suicide (especially concerning pure, 'virginial' women - hence the references to Ophelia and 'The Lady of Shalott' - the first lines are based on some of the original Tennyson poem: 'And moving through a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear.') but also relate to the real tragedy behind the theatricality.

In the poem, the narrator is haunted by the image of the drowned woman - or 'mermaiden' - who takes the form of the triple goddess as maiden, mother and crone, and recognises how these culturally-constructed aspects of femininity lie at the core of her own heart, too. The mermaiden is both ghost and reflection - the diametric opposite to life and its embodiment.

Yes, it's paradoxical again - what isn't? - but this time with a feminist theme. :)

Monologue(s)

Curtains draw: it’s 4 o’ clock and
the stage echoes with the sound of hearts beating
in tandem.

Listen –

I can hear you breathe
again; your breath seething
beneath my skin. Your
whispers fill the night with alkaline
and I am
heavy; heavy and
falling.
Your words weigh me,
and crack my sulphur lips
like kisses.

(beat)

I never asked for this.

There’s a movement,
a balance shifting,
and the darkness begins to lift
like a veil.
//
The Other stirs and
speaks:

And I,

I never answered: you
never let me – just kept me
locked up here, lodged somewhere inside
( ( your ribcage ) ), feeding me
on blood and bones,
acidic sticks and stones,
whilst I
am left fighting for air,
flighting heartwards.

But now it’s 4 o’clock and
your electric eyes cry moonshine, and
my heart beeps noisy beats
in tandem
with your own.

(beat beat - pause)

Listen –
can you hear it?

//
The stage opens up, and there is
a fleeting possibility of awake
before the day breaks.

We step into the spotlight and
our fingers lock together.
We are the key.
It fits!

Together we are
(halfhalf) and
- O -
everyone knows that
these two halves make
a hole.

* * *

Extract from Emilie Autumn's 'The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls':

'There is something that goes on in the minds of many manic depressives when entering into either a manic or a depressive state ... that nobody claims to understand, but that many bipolars in the far corners of the world can attest to, and that is the consistent waking up at four o'clock in the morning. And when I say four o'clock, I mean four o'clock on the fucking dot. ... And the thing is, you don't just wake up. You wake up with your mind racing, music churning over and over inside your head, the internal noise, words, pictures, absolutely unbearable...'

* * *

Can you believe this took far longer to format (and reformat, and reformat) than it did to write? I hate you, Blogger.

Another poems about the same fucking thing. You must be getting sick of these by now.

I know I am.

Written for a workshop on Speaking in Tongues that I'm hoping on entering. Please comment / critique it, especially keeping the idea of 'voices' in mind.

* * *

CREDITS!!

• Emilie Autumn (how I love thou!) - her book, 'The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls' (which is incredible) and the song '4 o'clock' (one of my personal favourites!)

• 'my heart beeps noisy beats' is a subversion of 'my heart bleeps noisy beeps' - a song by Räuberhöhle (which you can download for free here)

• The phrase 'heartwards' was invented by absyntheminded, who suggested I use it for the random poem I wrote in creative writing the other day. I hope she doesn't mind if I commandeer it for this poem too (because it's beautiful)

Grrrl Power: Emilie Autumn

On Friday 29th January, I had the pleasure of seeing Ms Emilie Autumn and her wonderful Bloody Crumpets performing live in Wolverhampton. And, needless to say, it was absolutely amazing! The unique composite of circus burlesque theatricals, comic sketches and ground-shaking music is a truly awesome experience, and was totally worth waiting outside in the freezing cold for several hours for!

But Emilie is not just an amazing performer, artist and musician. She is a great role model.

For those of you that don't know, the 'story' of Emilie Autumn is based around 'The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls' - a Victorian psychiatric hospital in which the manic depressive Emilie and her crazy Crumpets reside. Although these girls are clearly completely insane (in the best possible way), it is also made clear that the institution is crazier, and crueller than any of the murderous, morally delinquent inmates. The girls are trapped by a society that is unable to countenance 'outsiders' - people who are different - so enforces their imprisonment.

But at the same time, these women are not victims. The madness that Emilie and the Crumpets suffer - The Blessed Contessa's a cannibal, Aprella likes to shoot her lovers, the Naughty Veronica is sexually revaneous and morally deliquent, and Captain Maggot is just completely delusional - are simply signs of their strength of character. These women revel in their individuality, however 'wrong' society may deem it, and rebel against the system. Although trapped inside the Asylum, they flounce all the rules and have a rave whilst doing it.

And although these characters are clearly all theatrical caricatures of insanity, there is a great message behind it. That you should be yourself and indulge yourself in your individuality no matter what - and that is true strength of character. And in a society that teaches women that to rebel you should openly drink and and reassert your (predominantly submissive) sexuality - I'm thinking of people like 'Ke$ha' and the godawful 'Tik Tok' ('Cuz it sells to be a slut...)- this is a powerful message. (For one, I am confused why people think the behaviour that Ke$ha and her contemporaries promote is rebellion when our culture actually expects and encourages it from young women).

I will leave you with one final thought. When performing the incredible 'Dead is the New Alive', Emilie asked (or rather, screamed) "Are you ready to fight like girls?!" By this, she did not mean some pathetic catfight or bitchslapping-fest: she meant proper, full-on violence. Obviously, she was not provoking a fight in the audience, but what she said had a point. Girls can be just as strong and powerful and guys if they want to - and don't let themselves be brought down by the system. 'Craziness' and individuality is to be embraced, not something to be ashamed of, and locked away. Emilie's rallying call to 'FIGHT!' is not a cry for violence, but  a plea for resistance against a society that would like us all to be kept quitely under control.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find any footage from our gig, but this is from a gig earlier in 'The Key' tour - and this includes the fabulous Maggot, who was sadly missing from our show. Enjoy!