Friday, June 8, 2018

Friday 55 June 8 2018

Welcome to the Friday word emporium, 55ers. Here we try to put aside the conventions of the blogosphere and look to our own craft, in a place I like to think of as a comfortable room full of non-judgemental kindred spirits, an atmosphere I always felt when this meme was overseen by its generous originator, Galen Hayes. The rules remain the same, no rules except the word count, 55 of them, no more, no less, prose, poetry, satire, lyric, narrative lament...whatever you can wrap your pen around.

Link your effort in the comments below between Friday and Saturday at midnight, and I will be by to read.

Without further ado, let's start the 55 rolling:


the aquifer of her 
semi-conductive sorrows
my clone begins
to hate me.

could blame her

with alien faults,
given not life
but a monotone's bastard

no cry, no song's sigh
to cipher our carrion end.
The soul she cannot twin
fears her. Eternity shines 
liquid before me;

forever she's held

 ~June 2018

Images: Polar Light, 1926, ©Rene Magritte   Fair Use
Title unknown, ©Dmitry Brodetsky, via internet. Fair Use.


  1. This has the sci-fi feel to it. I feel your clone's chagrin at not being able to be you.
    Love this line "The soul she cannot twin fears her..."- this tells me there's more to the story. Perhaps a part 2?

  2. Here's my 55...I'll pop back later to check on everyone :)

  3. When it comes to faults and failures, the inherited ones have to be the most horrible. The generations that have to bathe in our dirty waters, smell the stench we leave behind, walk around in our rotting flesh (all right, I might be taking the metaphor a bit far), they never get the chance to thrive (or completely suck) through their own actions. Or, and this is even more horrible, they have to deal with their issues while also dragging our horrors along. "Who could blame [them]" indeed...

  4. And here is my bit for this week:

  5. Great to see the games begin with such excellent 55's. I will be out of the loop this morning, so am turning comment moderation off til I return, allowing people to get their link into view. Back soon.

  6. Oh my.. your opening sentence is classic. What a unique approach to self-evaluation.

    My poem is a tiny bit of verbiage I teased out for Michael. I'm not sure I headed in the direction he intended, but never let it be said there is nothing to learn from history.

  7. This is, quite simply, terrifying. Have you ever seen a movie called "Ex Machina"? It's about a synthetic woman in just such a situation.

    Your third stanza chills to the bone and the imbalance is set in disturbing motion. I may be reading this all wrong, but I wonder who each of them is; I am not so sure the speaker is not more clone than neutral observer. In any case, the idea of Heaven for one and homelessness for the other--by birthright, as it were--speaks to every rejection, every injustice, every lost hope that the average human of any years is knee deep in. Stunning, searing writing, Joy.

    I almost hesitate to add mine, after that, but here goes:

  8. Thanks to both of you for those excellent 55's--we all seem to be cutting away at things today, trying to excise the demons, or the truth from the demons, perhaps. Moderation is now back on and I will be checking frequently between now and tomorrow midnight as usual to publish your links.

  9. I guess it's Bourdain's suicide on my mind, but damn if I don't wonder if your pen might reflect something going through his thoughts, just before the end.

    a chilling pen, and such sh**ty news on his leaving.

    1. Thanks, M. It's always a down when someone like him--who seems to enjoy the best parts of life-- follows that path--and I'm sure the place my 55 comes from is no stranger to such voyagers.

    2. I think you can edit the comments? I misspelled his name. Dammit

    3. I can only remove the comment, M. I will quote the non-misspelled part here:
      "I'll keep this up through the weekend... I guess some voices demand to be let out."

  10. Thanks for the 55 challenge.

  11. Here is my 55 for this week - and damn, if I'm not having such a hard time with 55s. Honestly.
    Anyhow, word strings might eventually lead to something more, maybe, some day + time.

    Without further ado:

    thanks for hosting Joy :)

    I have to say, you always present the most intriguing of images to accompany your 55 - I really love them both. Fascinating in themselves. And then add your words? holy smokes.

    And this week?? I'm just sitting with the words - reading each line, each break - for the sheer power. I feel like I'm sitting at the ocean's edge and am waiting for the hard wave building that I can see, out there, and I know it's coming and is going to crash and smash me into the sand - to smithereens.

    Your 55 has this kind of impact Joy.
    It paints a stark picture in the mind - yet it's layered for the meanings, with an accurate precision that is both ancient and yet futuristic. The splitting of the self in two - actual reality of the so many "us" we wear and embody. The dissolution and resolution - or not - of selves. Facing what ultimately? It is darkness looking for the light - and finding it, or at the very least, praying, hoping for it in an ending.

    I'm still reeling for such chosen words - like cipher, aquifer ... this is sheer madness in this poem - but it's ethereal for its beauty and truth.

    1. Thank you willow. I also thought there was something old as well as new about the double self, and the conundrum of identity it presents. As you know, I enjoyed yours and was made deeply happy by it, whether I read it solely according to personal bias or not. ;)And I'm glad you dug the pics--I enjoy fitting the images to the poem du jour--I've found a lot of cool art that way.

    2. since blogger is still being weird, re comments:

      thanks for reading and for your wonderful comment on my 55 - I'm really glad that it resonated for you - made/makes you feel deeply happy -
      very unexpected response to my ears - but it's all good!
      Truth be told, I had some (very) vague semblance of an idea and just let the words carry themselves. For me, these are lines that follow (I hope) but aren't "precise" or clear in my mind/head. It's like a counter laid out with ingredients and I'm not sure which I need to add to my stock pot. And I'm good with this - the try this and see, maybe add this, take out this? Process. And I think this "exercise" might eventually yield something "other" for me.
      So it's a starting point.

      So your interpretation delights me, truly. Adds another textured layer for me to sit with. So, imo, "no rights or wrongs" in your reading at all.

      hope you have a kick-ass weekend!

    3. Yes, what *is* up with blogger? I no longer get any e-mail notifications of comments at all since the EU privacy rules change--so thanks for leaving me your feedback. I know exactly what you mean, too--in fact I think I said something similar to you about my own 55 last week, or one of these weeks, anyway--and I used to have a Carl Sandberg quote on the blog that says it too; "I’ve written some poetry I don’t understand myself." It's the voices, I tell ya. They don't explain *anything.* :P Anyway, thanks for letting me have my fun with your words.

  12. It oo am affected by Bourdain's suicide and that of a close friend a year ago. For what it's worth....

    Your 55 is truly scary. "my clone begins to hate me." thus the scary portion of this film begins...Yeah. Ex Machina....I can't say have a kick ass weekend today. As a retired chef, I feel the madness that constantly floats back in the kitchen rising and baking...

  13. We live in a cloned age and endless digital reverberation. Is that sound "resonant" of our own hearts, or simply signal noise of the flickering data? And are such avatars doppelgangers of the spirit or reflection of a nothing? Our selves reside in chairs and poems; our past is owned by the dead; even love echoes in the rooks, sometimes laughing, sometimes cold rain on the window. The first stanza is easily the first sentence of a sci-fi horror story, our future aghast; the cloned woman cannot help but look on womanhood with alien terror. Very well thought out and marvelously crafted. Put this one in a snow globe and shake, shake, shake.

    1. Thanks, B. As I believe I mentioned at your place, I've watched several movies/series about androids and clones lately, (starting with the soul-searing new HBO take on Westworld--one of Hopkins' best performances imo) and the puzzle of what embodies identity, and humanity, has been reverberating therefore. We seek immortality in a replication that is not and cannot be us,and will never enter even the mundane world as we would, let alone that unknown realm beyond a spurious simulacrum of life, and all the time, we are already as there as we're going to get. My thoughts atm, anyway. Thanks again for reading, and for writing your own much more human take on mortality.

  14. Oh yeah, my 55:

  15. I wonder about the demons in my fault lines.. Am I the genetic bearer of misery? So much data is written into our blood, my prayer is the good will out speak the evil. Great writing as always!

    Here is mine.

  16. An amazing poem and such a wonderful discussion in the comments.

  17. Thanks Sherry, and thanks to all who have contributed or just come by to read. The 55 is closed for this week--see you next time.