![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlissThis poem came to me while I was watching luminosity's recent awesome pair of Sam and Dean vids, set to the Unkle song, Broken. I remember this lore from a Percy Shelley poem, but I don't remember which one. Thanks also to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bowtrunckle , who recc'd Luminosity's vids -- among her many sterling qualities, she has great taste!
This poem is pretty grim, inspired by Luminosity's beautiful but grim vision of the boys' emotional state right now in mid s4.
SCORPIONS IN A RING OF FIRE
The lore is, that scorpions,
surrounded by a ring of fire,
will sting themselves to death.
But science, on the other hand,
through rational observation,
says that scorpions are immune
to the effects of their own stings.
It’s the heat of the fire that
panics their primitive nerves.
They strike out at nothing
until, coldblooded, nocturnal creatures,
they succumb to the relentless flames.
Sam learned all this in an aimless afternoon,
googling at random, while Dean
watched a marathon of eighties horror films.
Sam clickety clicked away the day
while Dean drank beer after beer, bloody
images reflecting on the surface of his eyes.
Scorpions dance, Sam learned,
grasping each other by the claws.
Sam pictures gladiatorial warriors
fighting to the death, left hands
bound together, right hands bladed,
slashing, surrounded by the rings
of jaded, bloodthirsty citizens.
Sam’s not thinking of himself and Dean
bound into a circle of flames or jeers,
striking at each other in hopeless self-preservation –
he’s learned that their arenas do not overlap.
Like Ruby’s knife, Sam is honed
for destruction – but not fine
enough for surgery – he can’t open Dean up
to excise the guilt, the fear, searing away
what makes Dean who he is. Body whole,
mind sharp, soul in shreds –
Dean’s still fighting, bound by the Angels,
ringed by their hungry, judging stares.
Sam, too, gazes, longing to heal, at least
soothe, but he’s tinged by the venom,
revenge, of his love devolved.
Sam waits simple and cold
for the break, ready to grasp
his brother’s left hand and swing out deadly
with the right, true to the heart
of whoever would ring them in
or wall them apart.
Comments and/or concrit would be super welcome!
bowtrunckle , who recc'd Luminosity's vids -- among her many sterling qualities, she has great taste!This poem is pretty grim, inspired by Luminosity's beautiful but grim vision of the boys' emotional state right now in mid s4.
SCORPIONS IN A RING OF FIRE
The lore is, that scorpions,
surrounded by a ring of fire,
will sting themselves to death.
But science, on the other hand,
through rational observation,
says that scorpions are immune
to the effects of their own stings.
It’s the heat of the fire that
panics their primitive nerves.
They strike out at nothing
until, coldblooded, nocturnal creatures,
they succumb to the relentless flames.
Sam learned all this in an aimless afternoon,
googling at random, while Dean
watched a marathon of eighties horror films.
Sam clickety clicked away the day
while Dean drank beer after beer, bloody
images reflecting on the surface of his eyes.
Scorpions dance, Sam learned,
grasping each other by the claws.
Sam pictures gladiatorial warriors
fighting to the death, left hands
bound together, right hands bladed,
slashing, surrounded by the rings
of jaded, bloodthirsty citizens.
Sam’s not thinking of himself and Dean
bound into a circle of flames or jeers,
striking at each other in hopeless self-preservation –
he’s learned that their arenas do not overlap.
Like Ruby’s knife, Sam is honed
for destruction – but not fine
enough for surgery – he can’t open Dean up
to excise the guilt, the fear, searing away
what makes Dean who he is. Body whole,
mind sharp, soul in shreds –
Dean’s still fighting, bound by the Angels,
ringed by their hungry, judging stares.
Sam, too, gazes, longing to heal, at least
soothe, but he’s tinged by the venom,
revenge, of his love devolved.
Sam waits simple and cold
for the break, ready to grasp
his brother’s left hand and swing out deadly
with the right, true to the heart
of whoever would ring them in
or wall them apart.
Comments and/or concrit would be super welcome!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-07 04:07 am (UTC)Your poem has a wonderful flow & pace to it and you've used vivid imagery to give us a glimpse of these broken Winchesters.
Really, its a super unique way of giving feedback. You were able to show how her vids impacted your thoughts on the show.
Great job!
no subject
Date: 2009-01-07 11:25 am (UTC)i came away with this powerful feeling that the boys are kind of being ensphered -- a really vague image that I wanted to make concrete somehow. I'm glad it worked for you!