Please Stand In Line
Without the aforementioned title we would embrace the freedom to
interpret this piece very differently. In observing a name an intimated
atmosphere of boredom is created which in turn reinforces a feeling of
desolation. It initiates recognition in our own minds for we all know what
it is to be blank. We act as a third eye from this perspective and we are
able to see through life's pointless but necessary process. Our day to day
life takes the form of a periodic waiting game. As we float between the
collection and dissipation of each consecutive sundry which we once decided
we needed or did not require.
Subtracting the literary connotations of the title a sense of freedom
may prevail. There is a care of one holding another at a time at which the
mind is relaxed and therefore beholds the capacity of a moment free from
complication or manipulation. The visual attributes of the piece are not
imprisoning until our gaze falls upon a formal barrier. Even then we could
forgive ourselves for treating it as a gentle guide and not as a symbol
of
oppression.
Personal subjectivity dictates that I am brought here by words. They
create a pre-conceived idea for me and from this images flow to create more
words. This is known as standing in line to create and no one has ever
said "please" to me.
Victoria Durant, Newcastle Upon Tyne, England, UK.
Please Stand in Line
It is a ring
from where you stand,
or a jail that confines you.
It is a fist
that suspends your weight,
over the fire of humanity.
It is a mindset
which contradicts your very essence,
and permits you an existence.
It is a ring
pierced through your skin,
and through your heart.
A lattice of rope
Around your neck
As you swallow your last words of hope.
I devour the bones of my children.
Ingest, ingest my ancestry.
I was provoked to do this
Because my cruel peers
laughed at my mother, the fish,
and the gills on my neck,
and the scales on my back that once shimmered in youth,
Lacking human ears and tongue, I was still deaf and mute,
Or just young.
I am appraised by no one now
Because I destroy every mocking eye,
Sneering mouth, I sever every ear.
I will drown in my own kind,
I will drown in fish like rain.
I look to the sky as they drop.
Like a bird, dumb as a turkey
I swallow death,
I allow its passage down my neck,
My back, into my lungs
They, smoking, seep and drown the
Breath I sneaking steal
from the private air.
This air is not mine,
It's for this fine company
surrounding me.
Instead of swim, ill sink slowly.
The bottom's where I'm meant to be.
Heidi Baitz, Parlin, NJ
In line
All my sad life I've been trapped inside a parallel universe unable to
savour the zest of life, to see it at its fullest. Then imagine my
excitement when in the 'Harrowing Fields of Hell' I heard the custodian
cry; ”Stand in line, Charlie!” Heck! Who? Me? Somebody talked to me.
Somebody shouted. My name. I grabbed my true love, my soul mate and
together we schemed to leave, to go where the Castle grew, to view, to
queue. But I was full of sin, and penalties had to be paid. So into the
bank we poured our genes;shared those left to us. And what a mess. Not
enough to make two faces not even enough to give us grins. Only enough
to keep our sexual attributes separate and to share a combined head
reeling in nightmarish creation like the face on a totem pole carved up
wrong. And I carried it all. On my feet. Gold rings hanging from ears,
no forehead. Only hairy eyebrows. And those eyes. Need I go on. But we
made it. See. To Earth. To join the rank and file, to view the Jewels of
a Queen. Calmly by the velvet red rope barrier we waited. Patiently on
the red carpet yet poised to charge inside if nobody looked. But then
that voice;”Stand in line!” sounded out forcing us to attention,
slobbering, wobbling, me doing the carrying and knowing a secret through
and through, about Hell and Hades and which we knew, you wished, you knew.*
-Cleveland W. Gibson, (Author of Billabongo) Faringdon, United Kingdom
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