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Click hereMourning is fashionable
in the Cities of the Plain—
barely-legal girls wreathed in
widow’s weeds while
their beaux are tattooed
like tombstones.
Undead, they gawp at
their gaudy elders,
so manifestly living their lives
the wrong way round.
...fashion statement
the second half reeks of the surety of teenagers, who know just how 'wrong' their elders have it all. :)
I can envision this like some kind of early Renaissance diptych, the ashen-limbed ruined youth of Sodom pointing accusing fingers at the soon-to-be-ruined extravagance of their elders.
All coming, at the same time, from a Genesis-revising perspective that the sinners (or at least, the more sensible doomladen young) were in the right all along.
So to speak! At least I think the elders here are sinners of the more boring (and expensive) variety: the capitalist pigs of Gomorrha versus the bohemian, Goth youth?
Of course, there are strong indications the young are miserable (are the widow's weeds earned or a fashion statement?) --I ask this rhetorically, because I think it's fascinatingly oblique and haunted, as well as sexy in a doom-and-gloomy way.
which is friday's usual. Like the start flowing to a different point and contrasting. It does seem that each word is just right, not too much nor too little. I do understand what feelings you are conveying. Consider how bold and smart we think we are as youth, and then suddenly we figure out the parents weren't so stupid after all (excepting my mother, of course). We even start listening to that raucous rock they like, or artist come around from their day and you go, "Oh Sheet! That's ripe." Now that's a lot of gobbledygook that kinda spewed out, but guess not providing much of a critique. Just always liked the way to write a poem friday--different in voice and mood than everyone else.
Some cool assonance going on too. I like it though I am not sure I get it.
Made me think of Goths but I probably got it wrong,but enjoyed it anyway