deepundergroundpoetry.com
Perspectives
I
My love is unequivocal. To sin,
a manor born, and in that house we dwell,
us mortal billions. Begin
to understand, I beg. The hell
I fear is not a Middle Age dungeon.
I would not hurt you if I could.
For my eternal condition
is just as tied to origins of wood
and rock. The bleak, corrupted earth.
That your urges are of Sodom
does not mean mine are worth
a damn. The caul of man drips with venom.
The hell I fear is death without my God.
But we are still brothers, from womb to sod.
II
As if my test must be harder - because
when I was twelve the core of my being
refused to take the mould, but paused
instead at my own sex - I’m told a ring
cannot be mine. We fight in sight
of God and governors for what should be
a simple right, a human right
enjoyed as a matter of course, though we
are pointlessly denied. We win,
or think we do. The violence and cold
we felt outside Love’s gates, the sin
that you claimed lived in us, lost hold.
But now, again, you lash out in your hate
and try to lock Love’s businesses, too late.
My love is unequivocal. To sin,
a manor born, and in that house we dwell,
us mortal billions. Begin
to understand, I beg. The hell
I fear is not a Middle Age dungeon.
I would not hurt you if I could.
For my eternal condition
is just as tied to origins of wood
and rock. The bleak, corrupted earth.
That your urges are of Sodom
does not mean mine are worth
a damn. The caul of man drips with venom.
The hell I fear is death without my God.
But we are still brothers, from womb to sod.
II
As if my test must be harder - because
when I was twelve the core of my being
refused to take the mould, but paused
instead at my own sex - I’m told a ring
cannot be mine. We fight in sight
of God and governors for what should be
a simple right, a human right
enjoyed as a matter of course, though we
are pointlessly denied. We win,
or think we do. The violence and cold
we felt outside Love’s gates, the sin
that you claimed lived in us, lost hold.
But now, again, you lash out in your hate
and try to lock Love’s businesses, too late.
Published 12th Jun 2021
Author's Note
For the Pride and Deconstructed Prejudice contest. After saying my piece and not feeling great afterwards I was going to just ignore it, but then it occurred to me that one of my favourite poems - Deceptions by Philip Larkin - is an attempt to understand a monstrous perspective.
I chose the sonnet format because I’m trying to put some craft back into my poems, but my ultimate reason for doing this is just the creative challenge, rather than any political or ethical point. The first sonnet is the perspective of I guess a Christian baker, or just someone who refuses to accept the right of same-sex couples to marry, while the latter is closer to my personal perspective.
I chose the sonnet format because I’m trying to put some craft back into my poems, but my ultimate reason for doing this is just the creative challenge, rather than any political or ethical point. The first sonnet is the perspective of I guess a Christian baker, or just someone who refuses to accept the right of same-sex couples to marry, while the latter is closer to my personal perspective.
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Anonymous
12th Jun 2021 9:29pm
Excellent work, Jack. That last stanza in Part II is phenomenal. As far as the sonnetry goes, I've read a few that were like choppy water rapids because the form can be restrictive. Not the case here. It flows unimpeded like water down a hill.
12th Jun 2021 9:47pm
Thanks! Sonnets are hard work. You have to strike a balance between staying on form and not sacrificing meaning or naturalness. You often have to sacrifice what you were originally planning to say, but I don’t mind that, because a little hard work a lot of the time causes you to say something better.
12th Jun 2021 10:46pm
