PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I remember this day, in November of 1981, very vividly.  But, with great and gracious largess, the Muse forgave me, and again took off her shoes.

In 1981, over a year past graduation with what was then a useless degree; having experienced failure in my first employment, which was replaced by a job that had absolutely no future or interest for me; after two very difficult relationships that broke up dramatically and painfully, I found myself, by the autumn of 1981, in a spiritual darkness that seemed to hold no change for escape.  Even now, almost three decades beyond it, the very memory still gives me pause for shudder.  Toward several friends from my youth, I lashed out---expecting them, even demanding them, to provide some relief, some way of escape, from the darkness that enclosed me.  Those friendships, which are now, at best, acquaintanceships, never recovered fully from my verbal immaturity.  

The surveyed field is a metaphor that I have never, before, considered.  My father was a land surveyor for most of his career; and the lines he laid out marked out properties, centers of roads and highways, and level places for building.

Not being familiar with the established scholarship in this regard, I can hardly believe that this is an original hypothesis on my part---namely that Lenin's primary motivation was to avenge his brother's execution (for attempting to murder the then reigning czar); and that Marxism, while providing cover for that motive, was never more than a cover.