Cruelty is a Lonesome Cudgel

Simple and pretty rough. I guess the truth can hit hard, huh? What brought on this post?

Heya soos!

Well, I was thinking about how easy it is for some people to turn to their vicious side instead of their supportive side. "Yes" is hard, "No" is easy and it seems for many people "Cruelty" is easier than "Loving."

I think that's pretty true. Taking a cruel path instead of one that lifts someone up is tougher. I'm not sure why the easy way is always the most worn path.

I think people prefer to not be bothered with hard things.

We live internal lives now and if something demands an outward glance instead of belly-button introspection, the twist of the body and the desire of the mind are to get rid of the "nuisance" as fast as possible and that usually means offering the back of a hand instead of one that helps.

Have you had the cruelty cudgel find your head?

Oh sure it seems most of my days are filled with dealing with cruelty from other people that finds a home on my head but I suppose that's the way of the world now. You don't want to dump on yourself so let it all go on the nearest person. It's the trickle down theory of cruelty but the trickle never loses its sting.

What you say makes a lot of sad sense, soos. When cruelty is the preferred method of interaction between most people we are in trouble because how much farther can the Human Race one fall then base cruelty as a ruling interaction?

I think it would be pretty cruel of me not to thank you.

So thank you.

Query: Is April really the cruelest month?

Hi Chris!

Yes, according to T. S. Eliot it is:

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers. Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, And drank coffee, and talked for an hour. Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch. And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

http://www.bartleby.com/201/1.html

Am I missing something? Isn't your post a poem or does it just feel that way.

Hello Nellie!

Welcome to the blog!

Well, you could say my post is a poem. What is poetry, anyway? Are there any rules?

A poem should have some rules and some form I think. I don't think it has to rhyme but I think that's a requirement for poetry as some may see it.

I agree a poem should have form and function and also be recognizable as such.

As for what makes a poem a poem or not -- that is open to eternal discussion between friends and cruel condemnation betwixt enemies!
:grin:

You're on fire, today, Dave!

Who needs a cudgel when you have embroidery needles instead?

We are so relieved you didn't say "pricking" comeback!
:mrgreen:

Thank you for poking us today, Dave.

Uh, with your wit...

Are we're rhyming this afternoon?

I just thought of a little rhyme to go with "Spank me with love" ...

"Always use a glove."

Maybe someone else can add a line and we'll see where it leads ;)

Oh, my!

I'm going to enjoy watching this one play out!
:mrgreen: