ALL I HAVE IS A VOICE TO UNDO THE FOLDED LIE

SEPTEMBER 1, 1939

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.

Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.

Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.

Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism’s face
And the international wrong.

Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.

The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.

From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
‘I will be true to the wife,
I’ll concentrate more on my work,’
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the dead,
Who can speak for the dumb?

All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.

Defenseless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.
W.H. Auden, Another Time

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Billy
Billy

Reading this reminded me of Monsieur Gustave from “The Grand Budapest Hotel” (in Nebelsbad.. 🙂 )… his habit of reciting obscure poetry…

Here, M. Gustave is at the mercy of Jopling (Willem Defoe) who is determined to kick his ass off the cliff… and M. Gustave starts reciting very obscure, bad poetry…

Bea Lever
Bea Lever

Dribblings of a confused mind. Was this supposed to be worthwhile?

Pirate Laddie
Pirate Laddie

Administrator — Let the quality of the comments be a lesson to you. Cast not your pearls….

Bea Lever
Bea Lever

PL

PLEASE give us your thoughts on this montage of poetic bs so that the less fortunate of mind may understand. ADMIN , please jump in also….inquiring minds want to know why this is a pearl.

bb

Maybe beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I thought it was just worthless crap.
PJ , are you married ?J think I am beginning to figure you out.

llpoh
llpoh

Bea – you are rapidly proving to be in contention for new TBP Village Idiot. It is quite an honor.

Auden was one of the greatest 20th century writers. Decipher it for yourself, you dunce.

Your comments are disparaging to the Admin, who takes time to put this stuff up. If you do not like it, why don’t you just STFU and move on to a different thread, instead of being a stupid cunt.

Bea Lever
Bea Lever

Llpoh

Einstein was beaten in the town square by his father as he called him the village idiot and proclaimed him to be worthless and stupid. Albert would call this dribble. If that makes me and Al a couple of cunts then so be it.

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