Analysis of Complex Games
Here I sit, this outer
shell dishevelled -
you wouldn’t look twice
if passed in the street.
Hair like marbled slabs
of toffee: melted,
knotted from sleep’s sure
fire hit in the vein.
All those dreams
unremembered lingering
somewhere out of reach,
I can sense them,
feel them trying
to call me back, but awake now,
in the vastness reality brings.
I close eyes and gather
the daydreams - how I imagine
my mind to be, hoping others see.
Chasing the day -
chasing the night, always.
There’s a golden chalice,
where I sip on thoughts
that flow freely through all
the rivers surrounding me,
moon’s reflection calmly smiles
as I live in night time
more often than not these days.
Can you see the light
of shining sun standing by the side
of moonbeam's guiding rays?
I feel it, but sometimes,
it eludes all the grasps
that fall from the need inside of me.
Others shine at me,
I hope that I will shine
just half as bright as they
and then I will smile.
These branches
I throw out in poetry - all lead
to the person sitting here,
typing thoughts like my life
depended upon it, maybe it does,
maybe the gathering of emotions
is the reason I am here in life,
it seems that way to me,
my whole life has been
moulded into words,
the early times
playing games with letters,
racing them down the page
as I devoured anything that I could read
to relieve the boredom times
that plague me even now -
never release from that.
But I strive, with steps long and sure,
to move into the future,
find myself briefly before watching it fade,
then the rediscovering journey
as new situations ever change the man I am.
The interest in nothing
in school really except
for Art and English,
though art eluded me at that time,
couldn’t even draw then,
but liked the teacher
and besides it was better
than religious education,
where copying from the bible
was all I ever seemed to do,
that or lines of ‘I will pay attention
when a teacher speaks to me.'
I digress, I know, but
this is me - the wanderer,
though I never go anywhere
in physical form really.
Poetry in younger years
was encouraged by teachers
after being praised
for doing a poem for class,
I was embarrassed though,
me: the hard man jester
who aimed to make others laugh while
I danced with the insecurities,
the masks placed to hide incredible shyness -
I became the opposite.
Flirting, but never touching,
too afraid to fail, one of the lads,
drinking, smoking, fighting my way
through every situation,
and the years amassed me.
Then the depression,
I lost myself in all
the complex games
I had decided to play,
couldn’t see anymore, words -
they became my saving grace,
my god, I followed them,
into the here and now.
The recluse was born then,
yet I didn’t realise at the time,
just thought I needed time
to gather myself from the mud.
But friends wouldn’t leave me alone,
I am lucky like that,
yet still, I needed to find
something real inside,
the masks were slipping,
my eyes lied to others -
of course I am happy,
why shouldn’t I be?
But I knew they could see me,
it was myself I was lying to,
all those pains scratching
at my eyes, caught up on me,
backed into a corner where
I fought tooth and claw
for survival, still find myself
pushed there these days,
but I am stronger now,
or at least I like to believe that,
I guess that’s up to others
to decide when they see me.
Well, those pains,
you really don’t want to know,
trust me on this, they kill me
just thinking of them,
but I try to convey, with all the words,
those early ones dark and disturbing,
raw, not refined like now,
they scream me across the page,
maybe as time moves on
I will type them up
and throw them out,
some are already here
if looked for, here I am,
open to everyone
who wants to come closer to me,
I will welcome friends,
though sometimes I find it hard
to keep up with demands
I do not forget and make my way
to you as quickly as I can,
dancing myself through the waltz.
It’s funny how a picture in a game
can spread me like butter,
but I’m laughing here,
despite the sadness
you may find in these words.
Scheme | ABXBXBCXXDXEDFXAGH BIXXJHXKIBBILXHHXMN OBPQOXQHXRLSTBLFBCABHU DBXKVAAGXBGHBAWHXSBXXANXYBDXMGH GJXMRXEFVKKBXBBBDSHHHBDHWXXIFBSH XXHERDFTXXBPUGHXBXMXXXAPYR |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 111110 11 1111 11001 11101 11010 10111 101001 111 1100 1111 1111 1110 11111011 0010101 111010 0111010 111110101 1001 10011 101010 11111 111011 0100101 1010101 111011 1101111 11101 110110101 11101 111101 101101 111010111 10111 111111 111111 01111 110 111010011 1010101 101111 0100111011 1001001010 101011101 111111 11111 1011 0101 101110 101101 11010101111 1010101 111101 100111 11111101 1101010 1110011011 100010010 110101010111 010010 011001 11010 110101111 11011 11010 0011110 1010010 11001010 11110111 1111111010 1010111 101111 1110100 1110110 0100110 1000101 1010110 10101 11001011 110101 101110 11111011 11100100 01111010010 1010100 1011010 101111101 10101011 1100010 001011 10010 11101 0101 111011 11011 1011101 111101 010101 001111 1111101 111101 1101101 1111101 111011 1111011 10101 01010 111110 111110 1111 1111111 11111101 11110 1111111 1010101 11101 1010111 1111 111101 111111011 1111110 111111 111 1101111 1111111 11011 1111011101 110110010 110111 1110101 101111 11111 0111 110101 111111 10110 11111011 11101 1011111 111101 111010111 11110111 101101 1101010001 111110 11101 01010 111011 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 3,903 |
Words | 762 |
Sentences | 22 |
Stanzas | 6 |
Stanza Lengths | 18, 19, 22, 31, 32, 26 |
Lines Amount | 148 |
Letters per line (avg) | 21 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 522 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 127 |
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Submitted on September 22, 2010
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:48 min read
- 1 View
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"Complex Games" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 17 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/68419/complex-games>.
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