Apocalisa v2

[RiverNotch]

Apocalisa


Behold a lost generation.
One hundred years of defining what it means
to be a teen and the conclusion was
"to feel like the world is ending"
only for the world to actually end
when you reach your twenties.

One hundred years of valorizing the fight
against this or that authoritarian
only for the penultimate crop
succumbing, in ways far dumber than before,
to lies much worse, much more blatant,
the verdict was made a hundred years ago.

The verdict was made a hundred days ago:
to be a teen is to be the freshest
body thrown to the front lines,
the strongest, the toughest, the most likely to survive,
only who truly survives the world to come
when, with a click of a button, you're gone?

Yes, with a click of a button, you're gone,
you're already dead, already replaced
by machines, already dismissed
as a lost cause by your greedy insurers
or by a prison employing no doctors
because you're already dead.

All life is a war: that is the lie
directing the penultimate crop
and the despots which they champion.

All life is a war: there never was space
for colors mingling freely, for bodies moving
and changing at will whatever needs changing,
hence there ought never be such a space
according to this same crop.

All life is a war: that was the lie
which, bit by bit, they've made come true,
only in death will you find peace
or else you are already dead,
you know naught else but to bicker and strive,
to melt into glass or drown in the mire,
you who are of a lost generation.

Here is a lost generation.
One hundred years of defining what it means
to be a teen and the conclusion was
"to feel like the world is ending"
only for the world to actually end
when you reach your twenties.

One hundred years of valorizing the fight
against this or that authoritarian
only for the penultimate crop
succumbing, in ways far dumber than before,
to lies much worse, much more blatant,
the verdict was made a hundred years ago.

The verdict was made a hundred days ago:
to be a teen is to be the freshest
body thrown to the front lines,
the strongest, the toughest, the most likely to survive,
only who truly survives the world to come
when, with a click of a button, you're gone?

Yes, with a click of a button, you're gone,
you're already dead, already replaced
by machines, already dismissed
as a lost cause by your greedy insurers
or by a prison employing no doctors
because you're already dead.

All life is a war: that is the lie
directing the penultimate crop
and the despots which they champion.

All life is a war: there never was space
for colors mingling freely, for bodies moving
and changing at will whatever needs changing,
hence there ought never be such a space
according to this same crop.

All life is a war: that is the truth
which, bit by bit, they've made come true,
only in death will you find peace
or else you are already dead,
you know naught else but to bicker and strive,
to melt into glass or drown in the mire,
you who are of a lost generation.

[dukealien]

Apocalisa


Here is a lost generation.  could "[H]ere" be replaced?  What you mean is, "Behold!" but that's archaic
One hundred years of defining what it means  1925?  But that's the "Greatest Generation," and the WW1 Lost Generation was really gone (see infra)

to be a teen and the conclusion was
"to feel like the world is ending"
only for the world to actually end
when you reach your twenties.   clever, on first reading:  "The world ends with me (or, worse, with my innocence)..." But proceeding from there--
One hundred years of valorizing the fight  the trope of starting each stanza with the last line of the previous really starts here, approximately.  It's a good one.
against this or that authoritarian
only for the penultimate crop
succumbing, in ways far dumber than before,
to lies much worse, much more blatant,  perhaps semicolon or even a colon here,  or the line break and comma can suffice
the verdict was made a hundred years ago. hence the "Greatest Generation" in Germany and Russia had to have their misled innocence slaughtered by the like on the other side

The verdict was made a hundred days ago:
to be a teen is to be the freshest
body thrown to the front lines,
the strongest, the toughest, the most likely to survive,
only who truly survives the world to come
when, with a click of a button, you're gone?  from the enthusiastic, mobilizing armies of WW1 whose kill-button was on the spade-grip of a Maxim gun, to ... well, we forget *that* Button today because it drops a divide-by-zero into the equation.  This stanza introduces Darwinism...

Yes, with a click of a button, you're gone,
you're already dead, already replaced
by machines, already dismissed
as a lost cause by your greedy insurers  I'm missing the specific issue to which "insurers" refers
or by a prison employing no doctors  mainland Chinese prisons, with organ harvesting.  Could be clearer with "prison hospitals  employing..."
because you're already dead.  and back to the lost/useless theme:  young, healthy, but moribund

All life is a war: that is the lie  Hobbes' and Darwin's war of each against all
directing the penultimate crop
and the despots which they champion.  definitely Hobbes, and Darwin's "selected" race (species) champions

All life is a war: there never was space
for colors mingling freely, for bodies moving
and changing at will whatever needs changing,  caught a hint of self-modification there, but it was a mirage
hence there ought never be such a space
according to this same crop.

All life is a war: that is the truth  it was the lie (two stanzas) before.  I see what you're doing here, and it works better than "that was the lie"
which, bit by bit, they've made come true,
only in death will you find peace
or else you are already dead,
you know naught else but to bicker and strive,  if we're to be as archaic as "naught," why not "Behold?"  But seriously,  is "else" necessary here (though another syllable might have to be added elsewhere for rhythm)
to melt into glass or drown in the mire,  ambiguity of "glass" - actinic, after a nuclear detonation, or becoming silicon-based virtual life in death
you who are of a lost generation.  only here, scanning back, notice that in this ultimate stanza the (now addressed) member of "a" lost generation is being personalized... the previous was all commentary

Well!  This certainly strikes a chord.  In moderate critique, and hoping to be worthy...

Googling the title turns up, first, this poem (!) and then a series of gothic corpse-dolls on Etsy(sm) .  Not altogether inappropriate.

I wish more emphasis were given to the thought that "'all life is war' is a lie."  To which the only solution (or culmination) is Hobbes' Big Man who incorporate as well as rules his subjects.  No:  war is politics with an admixture of means, or politics is war with an admixture of rules, but life is more than either war or politics because violence is  ultimately optional.  Peace is more than the absence of war; it is likewise (among other things) an absence of politics except in extemis.

But back to the poem.  The structure is effective; it would be neat to the point of destruction to fiddle S1 so its last line matched the first of S2.  That the first and last lines of the poem match make it, not circular, but complete.

Since nearly all the above is approving, at least one cautionary note:  the years and generations.  The idea of a lost generation seems to have originated soon after WW1 (but not immediately).  It took a few years for the rage to subside - too late, unfortunately, for reason to moderate Versailles.  The real lost generation was that of the 1910s who had not been sucked into the disaster:  how could they hold their heads up?  But, like the generation of the 1940s-50s (Boomers), it had missed out on the ceremony of manhood... while still living in the shadow of a greater catastrophe (which, for the 1910s' men, came in due course but for the Boomers only in Vietnam's frustration... fortunately, given that its catastrophe would have been The Button).  Succeeding generations (which multiply with increasing lifespan while each contains fewer members except for this last) do, indeed, follow the poem's dance of pro/anti-authoritarian folly.  So the message is clear and valid, its origins are just a bit complicated in detail.

Many words (mine), few suggestions.  Good poem.

[RiverNotch]

Thanks for the feedback. Edits as per suggested.

[tun]

Well it seems that there is a disaster happening. But it is not just Teens. It is all of us. The reality we experience is the outcome of the stories which are delivered to us by our storytellers - which we accept ('Stay safe', etc). The disaster is us, our failure to recognize ourselves and each other, which is the first requirement of authentic judgement. We are bewildered, passive and mute. The disaster is us - 'I didn't speak' - Martin Niemoller. Look I mean it is good to see your poem but most people are acting like everything is OK - they are not admitting what is happening and that is sort of the main reason why it is happening.