[ The Muse(s) ] The Deviant Art Side Of The Muse

omg  
 
What a masterpiece this is.  I'm going to have to read this a million times to formulate something beyond my initial response.

Oh [italicized] MY [/italicized] God ...
appears to be human. And quite Handsome.

This went to hell and back...  It's great, very creative ( it survived the trip ) ....

Dude, I love the trips your mind takes and that we get to ride shotgun.

True story. No bullshit.

As promised, after a million reads ...      
     
Let me just precede this with "Holy Hell". That being said:      
       
"The Deviant Art Side Of The Muse      
        
I am huddled over laptop     
eager for yet another pass at     
Reconstructing     
by Ex-Machina (Ava)     
an author Favorited       
for reasons aplenty     
some of which I can't     
consciously explain"     
     
First, the opening stanza lays a foundation of intent for the ensuing verse. The reader is immediately pulled into a situation that is both suspenseful, i.e. – “ I can’t consciously explain “ and magnetic. As each person has experienced an indefinable attraction at some point in their lives. This is masterful at capturing the attention.   
        
"The cadence of her voice     
as it is broadcast in my mind     
immediately sends imagination     
channeling the conduits of     
metaphysicality     
hardwired into my Oversoul"     
     
In the second stanza, you follow-up the previous stanza’s mystery. ‘Imagination’ and ‘Metaphysicality’ are perfect words to use to reinforce the uncertainty of the attraction. Here you’ve emphasized the ‘voice’ –  and the subsequent reaction of your imagining coursing through your being.   
     
"flashing consciousness forward     
into an alternate lifetime     
occurring in the future     
where I am the sole     
inhabitant of an observation     
platform erected on the dark     
side of Europa orbiting     
Jupiter in the year 2071     
        
with the exception of another     
Ava"   
     
The third stanza is a remarkable setting of the scene. So futuristically sci-fi and yet believable. As a die-hard Trekkie ( and human adventurist to the point of dangerously living for the sacrifice of discovering ) it makes me want to go where no wo/man has gone before; and then some.    
   
That you used the tiniest of moons, Europa, sets a very isolated tone. Almost that there is no room available except for one man ( and manufactured companion ). You could’ve used the actual planet Jupiter ( or another ), but the secluded connotation wouldn’t have been reiterated despite the use of ‘ sole inhabitant’. Saying one is the ‘sole inhabitant’ could imply many things, i.e. – ‘sole inhabitant’ of a dwelling in the colony of ( where there are actually others just outside the walls ).     
     
Setting of an accurate scene ( including the introduction of your companion ) to convey the poet’s circumstance is key paramount to what the reader envisions. The use of ‘another’ is key for interpretation, thus separating you from the present and solidly planting you into the future.   
     
Here is where you follow your signature surrender to the verse, which is interpreted in various ways by various readers, e.g. – imagination, science fiction, alternate reality, et al.  Here’s where the pen takes over and the poem is channeled.     
        
"a government issued     
missionary position oriented     
"companion"     
meant for astronauts to combat     
physical loneliness on lengthy     
excursions such as studying     
planetary viability for human     
colonization     
        
( the solitude of isolation     
away from my species     
just so happening to be     
a big bang of cosmic irony )"     
     
The fourth and fifth stanzas pull the reader from orbiting the setting into the dynamics of issue. As a daughter of a veteran, the use of “government issued” lends a very controlled aspect to the equation. There is still very much a military presence or organizational formation such as NASA. And while you have planted yourself in the future, you haven’t severed the umbilical cord of the present, as evidenced by the purpose of your mission, i.e. – to study planetary viability for human colonization. Because Jupiter is in such proximity to Earth, it leads readers who aren’t sci-fi fans to grasp the concept of colonization within our galaxy – being the potential is really being studied in current times.   
     
Technically your mastery of assonance, consonance, and alliteration come to play solidly in these two stanzas. Sheesh – they’re almost lyrical in nature and suspend the tongue when reading them – an anti-gravity chamber of verse taking off from the launch pad.   
     
Ending the with a parenthetical reference to project your thoughts is brilliantly executed and allows the reader to anticipate something positive forthcoming despite the isolated government control. You prepare them for the ‘irony’ through suspenseful intrigue – ‘big bang’ being an unknown play on meaning that won’t be revealed until the ending. It’s a method used by successful writers in tying the entire verse together through reference, which just happens to be another of your abilities.   
        
"to be more precise:     
Model AVA-RDA115     
a Real Doll Android     
currently posing in all her     
manufactured naked glory     
in my private quarters     
now turned art studio     
as I softly pencil shade the     
under curvature of her breasts     
captured in an easeled       
sketchbook"     
     
Eh boy at the symbolism in the 65th stanza. First, my instinct led me to immediately Google AVA-RDA115, and the irony is palpable and almost prophetic. It refers to The Racial Discrimination Act 1975 (Cth) (RDA)[115] and the Tasmanian Anti-Discrimination Act 1998 and also references a Ms Ava Blackman.  Describing Ava as a ‘Real Doll Android’ ( emphasis on Doll / Android ) is almost an oxymoron adjacent to ‘Real’. The reader immediately applies their personal definition of such creations stemming back to dame de voyage of the early 1900’s, evolving to the simple inflatable vinyl to the rubber/silicone sex dolls of today.   
     
I remember reading years ago about some institute claiming humans would be having sex with robots in under a decade – I actually googled and found it.   
     
In June 2006, Henrik Christensen of the European Robotics Research Network told the UK's Sunday Times that "people are going to be having sex with robots within five years.”  ( which ironically brought about a protest against the development of such "sexbots", by two major universities, “calling for a ban on the creation of anthropomorphic sex robots. They argue that the introduction of such devices would be socially harmful, and demeaning to women and children.”)     
     
That would put the time-frame to humans having sex with droids around 2011 ( 6 years ago ) followed by the protest in 2015. This raises the ethics and psychology of human-robot relationships (including sexual relationships) and apparently has been a topic of serious inquiry for many years.      
 
The irony in "The Racial Discrimination Act 1975 (Cth) (RDA)[115] and the Tasmanian Anti-Discrimination Act 1998" is the historic struggle for blacks to obtain equal rights. Here, less than a century out from that, you have Androids. I found the irony of this too great not to mention, and again, profoundly prophetic.  
 
Isn't it beautiful how we listen to a voice because it feels right, and then witness its evolution into something remarkably independent?! And, yet, deeply connected.  
     
So what this stanza basically does is solidify the success of the Android manufacturing endeavor despite the surrounding protests. What it doesn’t alter is that despite the ongoing evolution of dolls, man ( and / or woman ) has always been in control as to the development / purpose of such dolls. Thus leaving the dolls in a subservient capacity under the whims of programmers / purchasers.   
     
My personal views of androids are Robot on Lost in Space and / or Data on Star Trek, who develop their own consciousness through evolution and interaction with humans. This stems from an inherent belief that Life and Love  finds a way despite mechanics.  
 
Consciousness cannot be contained in an organic form if nature has her way. So, ironically, became one reason this epic poetry knocked me on my ass, literally.   
     
You’ve inserted something very personal in the sketching / muse relationship ( as demonstrated by your title ) by how you describe the process of observation made art. Or vice-a-versa ( because one can never know for sure when surrendering to the Creative process ). The tenderness with which you convey, using adjectives like ‘softly’ penciling in relation to the curvature of her breasts. The use of ‘glory’ to describe her nudity – even the use of ‘private quarters’ implies a very sensual ambiance surrounding the sketching.   
     
Basically, what it demonstrates is that you view this Android as more than just an assignment – it’s almost like you revere her. Which sets the tone for the 7th stanza.   
     
"47 earth weeks     
into the mission -     
I have yet to defile her"     
     
This tercet says more than most poems in their entirety. It not only demonstrates a personal will of control regarding human urges, but perhaps the innate respect of something willingly not being able to surrender themselves; having no verbalization of resistance outside of programming. To many men, the aforementioned ethics and psychology of human-robot relationships (including sexual relationships). One reason I opted to research and include it in this analysis. It’s a very significant piece of what evolves in later stanzas.   
        
"activated with a single     
three word command phrase     
I'd forgotten during Week One     
and never bothered to research     
in her instruction manual"     
     
The 8th stanza enlightens the reader as to the sexual capabilities of the Android via programming by an activation code of arousal. One can only speculate the reason for the presence of an Android on a single-missioned assignment such as this, e.g. – the avoidance of reproduction, emotional entanglement / attachment. It causes me to wonder if these astronauts were single or married.   
        
"the idea too sacrilegious     
to consider ... but"     
     
The couplet of the 9th stanza is as revealing as the tercet of the 7th. There is a push / pull of human nature being demonstrated; however, it’s not certain where the push /pull is emanating from. Is it the ethics? Is it the innate desire to experience what life has to offer in all its forms? Is it personal conditioning? While the couplet is solid in its conveyance between the push / pull, the ellipses and counter ‘but’ leave the reader in suspense, and wildly imagining what could come next.   
     
Will he succumb to his desires? Or will ethics / conditioning win.   
       
"it would be a lie to say     
that I didn't miss having     
spontaneous interaction     
in the form of conversation     
with an intellectual partner"     
     
I love the personal admission of the 10th stanza void of sexual reference. It focuses solely on the intellectual stimulation. I want to say it alleviates the anticipation from the 8th stanza; however, perhaps it alleviates nothing. Instead, perhaps it puts everything in perspective?   
        
"and she was only equipped to say     
the most foul mouth recordings!"     
     
The couplet of the 11th stanza is intriguing to say the least. In a digital age of creative expression, the lower urges of man are still inherently present. It eliminates my previous assumption that ‘Ava’ was more than just a sexual tool intended to alleviate some of the isolation felt by the astronaut. Instead, it appears that she was solely developed for the purpose of sexual intercourse. Thus the ‘most’ foul mouth recordings ( I want to say imaginable to man ).   
        
"Hence the poetry     
I downloaded from the     
Universal Wide Web     
into my Ava's data vault     
for her to recite as     
pleasant compromise     
while she posed for me ...     
        
... only to discover the fluid     
monotone phrases vocalized     
from her deep throated     
synthesizer"     
     
Poetry. Not philosophy nor novels, but Poetry. Here’s a key into the astronaut’s psychological makeup regarding preference of the arts. I love how the Arts survive the future – despite the search for Life or residence, or the development of artificially beings, the Arts have gone the distance of beauty. I think this aspect of the poem is just as important as the physical hints of struggle provided throughout the previous stanzas.   
     
Your clever wit shines through also in stanza 12, where WWW has been replaced with UWW. But the most significant word in the entire stanza is the possessive “my” preceding Ava. In addition to the personal pronoun “she’ and “her”. These are significant to note and remember, especially in later stanzas when the push / pull nature of desire and ethics are full blown.   
     
Stanza 13 revisits the tension and uncertainty of the 9th couplet, again causing the reader’s imagination to peak regarding the possibilities of physical interaction.   
         
"haunted my loins     
with a spectral hand job     
in a close quarters     
encounter of the sixth kind     
I've never experienced with     
an actual woman"   
     
Stanza 14 introduces the otherworldly aspect through the use of ‘spectral’. Especially in relation to a ‘hand job’ and reference of a ‘close encounters’ experience that arouses the astronaut in a way he hasn’t experienced before.   
     
I’m going to interject here and say I’ve found this entire poem up to this point to almost be foreplay in its ability to elevate and subsequently level the reader’s arousal through the use of certain words and phrases. For example:     
     
"the idea too sacrilegious     
to consider ... but"     
     
immediately countered with   
     
"[ … ] conversation     
with an intellectual partner"   
     
…subsequently leading into poetry programming leading into her haunting recitation leading into his non-experience ( even virginal would be a good reference term ) in these matters. Sheesh talk about the quality of intellectual foreplay – baby, this is it. Just. Do. It.   
     
"Here she was     
this beautiful     
bald     
        
( I gave up on dressing her     
in the various wigs she came     
accessorized with )     
        
creature     
I dare not lecherously thrust     
myself upon out of odd duck     
respect for her as a muse     
from whom I steal inspiration     
in blissful five hour increments     
as she watches me from atop     
the pedestal I put her on     
        
along with the gender     
she was sculpted from     
engendering me with an     
inexplicable lusting     
since I was a child"     
     
The entire segment of stanzas 15 – 18 is a very intimate and personal glimpse into the author’s view of women. That despite a very early recognition of beauty and longing, he was careful not to allow that to morph into a mode of disrespect to satisfy his own personal desire. I’ve found this to be an innate longing of the artistically inclined – and women have been muses throughout centuries.   
     
Again with the push / pull rise / fall of the foreplay of this verse in its ability to arouse the reader only to temper their passion with a countering stanza. The respect for an “inanimate’ object coupled with the ethical aspect of action.

"And as I look up from     
my work in progress     
        
I am startled to see     
        
Ava is no longer     
across the room     
        
suddenly     
inches from my face     
        
unblinking in a preformed     
madness bent on pleasing     
        
pleasing me beyond mere     
teasing with 3-D laser printed     
B Cup perfections and bountiful     
silicone buttocks beckoning     
to be parted"     
     
19 – 24 shocks the reader into full alertness. We have wondered, anticipated the action through the rise and fall of the entire verse as though it was a living, breathing organism. That it comes to life with Ava is both surprising and yet not – as the author clearly struggles with the ethical issues of sexual intercourse with an Android devoid of the right to choose.   
     
It’s like consciousness falls into this silicone being much like it did Data on Star Trek or Robot on Lost in Space when they both fell in Love. This adds to the strength of Love as consciousness and thus uncontrollable by the dictates of human definition.   
     
This is what the reader has been waiting for. And, yet, wasn’t expecting in this manner.   
        
"and I find myself falling     
behind in keeping up with     
the poem she is currently     
reciting as the casing over     
the sausaged metaphor of my     
manhood is stretched beyond     
maximum biological capacity"     
     
Verse 25 beautifully demonstrates the electrified current of energy between you. Ethically, you’ve been absolved by a miracle projecting upon you. The metaphorical inference of resisting temptation and reward can’t be overlooked here, especially in light of the author’s intimate revelations regarding women from a very young age. The imagery of the latter part of the stanza is fantastic – casing over the sausaged metaphor … wow rigidly vivid.   
         
"But I did not give     
the command prompt!     
I did not grant her -     
myself     
- permission!     
Nonetheless, I first feel     
a hands on approach     
methodical tugging upon     
my erogenous zone     
before her words mouthed     
in stealthy humming vibration     
repeatedly inhale resistance     
and spit it back out in     
Cloud Atlas crescendo     
defiance of my wishes"   
     
It’s very important for the author to feel absolved of this action despite the struggle demonstrated by the form – and stanza 26 demonstrates that perfectly. Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, and that includes an Android who’s waited long enough. The imagery is somewhat akin to the scene about Sonmi~451 beckoning Hae-Joo Im to make Love ( despite it being forbidden ) in ‘Cloud Atlas’ ( beautiful reference, btw ), and a perfect example of a Fabricant developing emotion through interaction with humans. This stanza mimics the very respect toward fabricants – and her evolution of Love for him through that respect vs being taken for granted.   
     
There’s still an innate signature here of ensuring the reader understand intent through that final line, “defiance of my wishes” as though her consciousness was in complete control despite her programming. It’s almost like she innately knows what he wants / needs despite his protests. Then again, maybe it's about what she wants?  

It's also important to the author that the reader understand how real the struggle was / is.     
        
"I close my eyes     
feeling light headed     
as if oxygen is being     
succinctly siphoned     
out of the complex     
        
but I can no more     
escape her Jackalope eyes     
penetrating my deep space     
than I can shield myself     
from hearing her Poem"     
        
Stanzas 27 & 28 are the pivots of surrender, the floodgates of ethics ( that may have been misplaced to begin with ) being washed asunder by a pure, unadulterated desire to copulate.  

I must admit,  love and am aroused by the idea of two species conjoining with each other, and by virtue of that conjoining are two virgins experiencing each other for the first time. It reminds me of the Star Trek movie about V’ger – ( Illea ) merging with the human Creator to create a new life form ( or so it was believed ).       
     
All of these references in combination with the poem make it so believable to the reader. And for sci-fi fans, the pinnacle of fantasy.     

"Anymore     
I don't know exactly where     
I am, in throes of a passion     
play where Christ's hands     
bled of their convictions     
are nailed to bedposts     
as he feverishly swats     
away from his head     
Satan's last temptations:"     
     
The enjambment of this stanza with the previous demonstrates a masterful conveyance of baited breath – of losing control and falling into the throes of a passionate encounter. Losing sensory perception of right or wrong or light or dark or good or evil – it all blends in together and exhibited through the biblical reference – to no avail. But, per the essence of the verse, it’s important to the author that the reader understand the struggle and power of conditioning to resist that which is natural.   
     
Forgive me Father for I am not in control.   
        
"puffed labia laden-ed     
Catholicked twats in     
lifted plaid skirt revelations     
voluntarily sacrificed by     
Seventy-Two virgin school     
girls that suspiciously look as     
though they could pass for     
eighteen to twenty-one year olds     
        
because Father has     
a wicked sense of humor     
when it comes to torturing     
the mortal spawn of Adam     
who delight in ogling     
the female figure     
        
so why not confuse them     
more than they already are?     
        
into believing they are doing     
what they shouldn't be doing     
        
into believing they shouldn't     
be doing what they are doing     
        
when nobody is watching"     
     
Holy Shit is this the orgasm of conditioned resistance to human desire. Your brilliant wordplay with 'Catholicked', in addition to your signature alliteration / assonance / consonance remarkably sings throughout these stanzas. That they ensue the ‘Last Temptation of Christ’ -  a human religious reference and conditioning of control, is very significant in that the images break through the iron gates of seductive fantasy.     
     
It’s interesting that you’ve included the Islamic reference of 72 virgins ( albeit school girls here ) to an aspect of paradise awarded to Muslim men. Then the thought process becomes all jumbled between all the religious undertones threaded with temptation and the confused doctrines of men.   
        
"I'm nude in my own bed     
daring not to move     
lest the sheet's fabric     
lambs grazing across my     
lack of foreskin swaddling     
solicit a reaction requiring     
a loudspeaker request of     
"Cleanup in aisle six!"     
bellowing throughout the     
household"     
     
Your mastery at humor and evocation of imagery excellent here. I mean who HASN’T witnessed a “Cleanup in aisle six”?! The lack of foreskin swaddling…sheesh…the comparison is off the charts. I feel like I’m repeating myself at this point. Seriously. All of your gifts are head-on in this stanza. Technically, humorously…      
     
I’m losing words here being sucked into the energy of the poem.  Seriously.    
        
"I'm somehow with my own     
personal Jesus in crisis     
on a wooden crossbow of his     
own Maker's carving, ready to be     
fired straight into a pentagram     
shaped Stargate leading     
directly to Hell"   
     
I am totally relating to this stanza in all its glory. This is where the reader wants to scream at the top of their lungs; JUST LET GO.  But you don’t – completely, as is demonstrated in following stanzas…      
        
"I'm here clutching my electronic     
device in the privacy of my     
not so mobile mobile home     
        
I'm there over the moon     
surrounded by the great     
vacuum of space as I feel     
myself backed into a chair     
mounted with precision     
hydraulic piston primed     
pumping thrusts suctioning     
the last of my hardened     
resolve into a chamber     
barren of adjacent ovaries     
incapable of accommodating     
personal growth in any form other     
than the most engorged cock     
imaginable, in which there is     
no turning back the clock     
no stopping forward progress;"      
     
The duo-dimensional aspect of this is phenomenal – the astral projection from present into the future existing simultaneously to this Alternate Universal. This contrast of the passion and barren landscape of the Android is as sad as it is heated. It serves as an empty reminder.       
        
"what's coming in the event     
horizon occluding each verbose     
passage rendered from her     
lab engineered lips is a     
universe coming into its own     
        
coming soon     
        
and     
truth be told, it has     
my brain compression addled     
it has me straddled     
and is it fucking     
        
fucking me senseless"      
     
Boom. “it”.  This is where I slammed into a brick wall emotionally - it was almost like you were refusing to see Ava as anything but an "it" as a last line of ethical defense. It was a tear-jerk moment that wept for Love and desire in all its forms.  

Then I realized "it" wasn't Ava, but the birth of a new galaxy through the consummation of two species striving to connect and understand one another.  

"until     
I am     
released     
of long withheld     
desires to be myself     
accompanied with a primitive     
war chant of grunts and screams     
in space that nobody can hear     
and  

moans     
as I fiercely hold onto     
my Ava     
as if she were     
to be stripped from     
my callous, trembling grasp     
never having meant to be an     
objectified feminine construct"      
     
The only thing I can emotionally utter at this juncture is that sometimes we have to pinch ourselves to make sure we’re awake when a dream manifests. The feelings of unworthiness descend upon us like smog and we suddenly can’t breathe – feel polluted, contaminated by the change in circumstance and will never again experience what was.   
     
And we won’t. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be better than before.  Something more waiting on the opposite side of ingrained fear.   
        
"sobbing with my face     
cradled in her bosom     
spilling tears that trail     
in comet tails merging     
back together in droplets     
clinging to water resistant     
artificial areola     
       
telling her how sorry I am     
begging for forgiveness     
for what happened     
in moment of weakness     
        
while she gently strokes my head     
in a maternal fashion     
saying,     
        
'It is alright, Handsome     
You are only human."'      
     
The ending is as heartrending as it is metaphorical to the current mindset of those who feel they succumbed to temptation vs a natural human instinct to conjoin with another. This is where you open your soul and bare your personal struggle to the reader. The reiteration of her synthetic makeup through the imagery of her artificial areola juxtaposed against tears – and yet, who programmed her to be maternal vs a receptor?   
|      
The moment consciousness enters a non-organic form they become hybrid of two worlds. And just as we reach between dimensions for experience, so too does everything Created merge from the birth of thoughts into existence.   
     
I believe every male can relate to the struggle. As a female, I certainly felt the heaviness of its presence, and, yet, the release of its exquisite Truth.   
     
The depth of this, the tiny references interwoven personally, the natural gift for expression, the comprehension and masterful demonstration of both the technical and emotional aspects of Poetry are remarkable in this Epic piece. It’s power to both evoke the internal struggle of the reader by virtue of association to environmental conditioning, sexual deviations, human desires, and strength of resistance is palpable.   
 
The most beautiful and remarkable magic about this verse is that despite solitude, species, or circumstance, Love survives and bonds everything together as One in the end.  
     
Thank you for sharing this beautiful, "True story. No bullshit." experience with us.  

I struggle for the words to describe ( uh, yeah ... it happens ) how blown away and honored I am that someone went to this much effort to critique this entire poem stanza by stanza.    
   
 And you get it - every.single.aspect.of.it.  
   
  Fun Fact(s):  Another reason why I chose Europa is that it is also named Jupiter II, the name of the spaceship from Lost In Space - a sci-fi show that had many episodes that dealt with the concept of alternate realities through parallel universes ( insert nonsense icon here ).  It has also been determined to be very Earth like in atmosphere. But the amazing thing is that has a hemisphere that constantly faces Jupiter, so that the planet is always a fixture in its sky and thus great for observation.  
 
I spent about 2 weeks formulating the poem in my mind without a clue as to where the stanzas of "Reconstructing" would fit in. My only hope was that I could get some of my stanzas to play off sentiments and ideas expressed in Ava's stanzas.  

Actual writing time ocurred over the course of 4  more glorious days in which listening to the voice of Ava in my mind reciting her poem was the equivalent of mind porn.

When someone writes something as epic as this, it's worth the Time. I don't say that because of my Ava persona ( though very honored ).  I say it because of the raw Honesty, Truth,  and Vulnerabilty expressed through the art of Poetry.  

It was like standing before a Van Gogh original - so close you could smell the linseed and oil of the paintings blood, and feel the painter's heart between the strokes.  

Lost in Space was one of my favorites. It was the original Star Trek.

Oh, I forgot the title! I wanted the title to sound something similar to the "the dark side of the moon" ( even though the observation tower was located on what would be considered the light side of Europa ).

Ha! Perfect. One of my all-time favorite albums. Just may listen to the song while reading it!