Teesta Review: A Journal of
Poetry, Volume 5, Number 2. November
2022. ISSN: 2581-7094
Neon Genesis: A
poetic collaboration between Doris Pushpam and Aden Burg
-- Doris Pushpam and
Aden Burg
Doris Pushpam poetry (initial) Side A:
One’s wronged world
THERE IS
NO PLACE LIKE HOME
There is a place
that I call home
She is a land with
no regrets.
There dreamers
thrive with their heads in the clouds
And no one is left
to rot.
In my home I am
allowed to dream
There is no struggle
to be seen
I am heard though I
do not speak
I am the narrator, I
am the plot.
There rivers flow
without contrition
The shores make love
to the weeds and peasants
Children play on the
graves of their fathers.
Their laughter
reaches God.
Alas here I am in a
world so broken
Roaming among
oysters, not a pearl in sight.
Burying my dreams
and destroying my heart
Inhaling tradition,
exhaling a farce.
THERE IS NO ME IN
SOCIETY
There is no me in society
I have no place to call home
I take shelter in conformity
So that I am free to roam.
There is no me in society
Tradition is my only choice
I sit in silence as I turn to debris.
Good girls don’t make noise.
There is no me in society
There is only the sons I can produce
I am just a flourishing fruit tree
I am of no other use.
There is no me in society
Only those who make the rules
It is my own people who doom me
I am at the mercy of fools.
There is no me in society
I have no choice but to rhyme
It is such a pity to just be
But trying to be more is a crime.
There is no me in society
I am a woman, nothing more
I make the same choices as those before
me
Freedom is a losing war.
There is no me in society
There is no I, no her, no she.
There is no me in society
Unless I choose to break free.
Aden Burg poetry (initial) Side A: The
observer’s detached lamentation
The unending
Time after time,
Day upon day,
We watch the same listless dance
Upon the stage,
The actors fret and stamp their feet
Over and over,
Their vile performance churns my stomach
It is all so filthy,
I cannot help but hate it with passion
unending
Yes,
I want for all this ugliness to simply
turn to nothing once more
Yet,
I do nothing
From my seat in the far back,
Away from all the people I so daringly
judge,
I do nothing but close my eyes
For I am merely a coward,
A scared child who cannot even be
trusted to do the simplest of things
So then,
Why have I not walked out of the
theatre?
The truth is that while I am a coward,
There are those few who are certainly
not
A man next to me so readily helps all
those he can,
Even covered in grime that all else look
away from
Whilst another man greets all he sees
with a smile,
His kindness and ideals push my foolish
self forward
As such,
I cannot help but stay until the end
After all,
I wish to see the day those detestable
actors meet their lamentable curtain call
As the new curtain rises,
And a new act begins
Oh, thy
lamentable lambs
Why is it that humans waste so much of
their lives?
Humans die so swift,
So fragile and brief
Yet, they spend their days in ceaseless
petty squabbles
As though they believe it gives their
existences meaning
Day after day,
They quarrel over the smallest of
issues,
They refuse to agree on the most
straight forward of facts,
They fire rounds of petty insults upon
one another
Their long conflict resulting in no
causalities,
Save for the time wasted
After all,
Surely these humans could spend their
time better,
Surely they could simply spend more time
helping one another
Surely,
They realise what an utter waste this
all is
Yet,
They foolishly persist without a single
hope,
Until only despair for their lamentable
kind remains
I bring my hands to my bosom,
My wings wrap around my glowing flesh,
Providing warmth from the cold of humans
Oh my lord,
Why did you give humans your
foolishness?
Doris Pushpam poetry (response) Side B:
Disgust, questions and resolve
THE ENDLESS DANCE
(Response to The Unending)
Their anklets chime to the tick of the
clock,
It is time to play their part.
They strike the same poses
And lament on their fate
They will dance until they drop.
I join in too
Don my jewels and finery
I mimic their every move.
I feel a fool as I dance and dance
But I can’t seem to stop.
I will play along until the day
It all comes to a halt.
Make all the right moves
At all the right times,
Be a dancer all my life.
For I am a coward
Afraid to step off the stage
But I am a survivor too
I know there is no life unless I dance
I will do what I must to survive.
When I finally have my curtain call
There will be others to take my place.
They will teach the children how to
dance,
Teach them why they cannot stop.
They will tell the children of the
adoring crowd
Teach them how to behave for praise
Make the children give up their freedom,
Put on their anklets and dance.
The children will learn too late as we
all do.
The price for being loved.
Some will love how their anklets chime
They will enjoy the thunderous applause.
Some will hate the dance, the melody,
the stage
They will try to change it all.
Some will succeed, they will dance their
own dance
Alas some will fail.
Some will take the shackles off
And never dance again
So it goes, this endless dance,
We will dance until we don’t.
THE HOLLOW ONES
(Response to Oh, thy lamentable lambs)
The gift of life is a curse
To those who choose to be empty
Their hollow nature suffocating
Their brethren who know better.
These hollow beings just exist
With their cacophony of foolishness.
They pick a fight, they spar with words
Leaving nothing in their wake.
They don’t contribute much to the world
They don’t contribute at all.
The gift of life is wasted
On those who refuse to listen
They fill the void with endless chatter
And shut off their senses to reason
They refuse to see, they refuse to hear
They refuse to let others touch their
minds.
They only hear their hollow thoughts
And project their nonsense to all.
If only they would listen, these hollow
ones,
They could find their purpose in the
world.
The gift of life is nothing
To those who make nothing of it.
These hollow ones, who say so much,
Who say nothing each time they speak.
What a waste of an existence these
hollow ones are
They are a waste of time and space.
I say a prayer for these hollow ones
That someday they will open their hearts
May God banish the foolishness within
them
And fill them with wisdom the rest of
their days.
Aden Burg poetry (response) Side B: The
world and me
Home
(Response to No
Place like Home, part 1)
They raise their voices and cry,
Like thunder in the air
Drowning out all opposition,
My home is too noisy
They shut their ears and eyes,
Clenched as they grasp at a past that
they themselves did not witness
A memorial that blocks out all,
My home is far too quiet
Indeed,
This home reeks of ignorance
A sickly fever,
That persists through the unending night
Isolated,
Everyone is content
They happily only gaze inward,
The world shifted away
It is my deepest wish to tear that all
away,
To rip apart those foolish notions,
To silence the roaring of those fools,
To make those quiet finally speak,
To thrust them forth,
Into the world
In this new home,
I hope that we may sit together,
That we all join all together
Hand in hand,
In this shared place of our creation
Yes,
A true home we all share
Without walls,
Without doors,
Without hidden rooms,
Without borders nor locks,
I wish that can sit together without
separation,
In a world we all call our home
There is no
(real) me in society
Chains,
Masses of metal wrap around my body
Their cold embrace restrains all that is
me,
Binding me to their whims
Yes,
There is no real me in their society
Tears blip from my eyes
Only for metal to roughly brush them
away
The chains rankle,
After all,
Men do not cry
Chains slither across my features,
My long eyelashes,
My soft lips,
The chains shiver with disgust,
At the disgrace of a man before them
I wince,
The chains grip my arms,
They tighten as my arms shake
I am reprimanded For my gentle arms,
My weakness
The chains pull upon my neck
I chortle and gasp in vain,
The chains wrap ever tighter,
Their voices of contempt cover all of me
Covered in unfeeling metal
I am left a shell,
An empty doll that merely remains still,
Enacting the wishes of the chains
without a semblance of a soul
Until I hear a cry,
A tiny voice from so far away
One that bellows of freedom,
From her own chains
Hence,
I embrace freedom and destroy my chains
Yes,
There is no real me in society
That is why,
I destroyed my chains long ago
End of the world
(Response to No Place like Home,
part 2)
Fear,
Everyone fears the end
It is only natural to fear something
frightening
Yet,
I cannot help but wonder,
Is that truly so?
Is an ending truly such a horrid fate?
Only through an ending,
Can there be rebirth
This world is full of rot,
A decaying husk of a place
Thus,
I sing the end of world,
As I await the a beautiful rebirth
Even should I pass long before it
occurs,
My heart trembles at the thought
***
Reflections 1: The commentary of Doris
Pushpam on Neon Genesis
In approaching this poetry-exchange with
Aden Burg, I was intrigued by Aden’s experience with rewriting a set narrative
as this is an area of research that I too dabbled in. In our discussion, we
considered rewriting myths/legends, but ultimately, I found at the root of our
discourse was the notion of change, specifically exacting change for the
purpose of progress. Keeping that in mind, I recommended to Aden that we ground
our rewriting in reality. For me this entailed outlining aspects of our
respective realities that require change and addressing this necessity for change
through poetry.
I approached this idea by first
envisioning the place I call home, a place where things are better; a place
that only exists in my head. There Is No
Place Like Home is a culmination of my vision of what the world could be
and a lamentation on the state of how things are for me. In line with the theme
discussed, it speaks of the possibility of change, the need for it, and the
knowledge that with action, there is hope for change. Hope became an underlying
theme for me in writing both my poems. It is one that I found in Aden’s
response to There Is No Place Like Home
titled Home and End of the World. In Home,
Aden emphasizes the role of human nature in making or breaking a home. In his
poem, the foreign and unfamiliar are shunned and people are content with living
in their heads. Here, people judge and destroy things and people they refuse to
understand. Aden laments on the fate of the quiet and expresses his wish to
silence the noisy and instead thrust the silenced ones forward so that they may
be heard, an idea which I too expressed in speaking out and taking action for
things to change. Therein lies the common denominator between our poems, hope
and taking charge in order to exact change.
In Aden’s second response to There Is No Place Like Home, the idea of
change, a source of fear for many, is seen as a chance for a new beginning.
This poem assuages the worry of those who cling on to the present due to the
fear of the unknown. Aden elicits hope through his idea of a rebirth, a chance
to fix how things are. Through this poem Aden introduced another facet to
change that I had not considered, the fear of change. All in all Aden’s
response to There Is No Place Like Home complements
the ideas I expressed in my poem, while adding his perspective to the
narrative, the juxtaposition of which demonstrates the need for change
regardless of the distance that separate us and the culture and traditions that
divide us.
From a wistful commentary on the place I
call home, I moved on to address my place in society for my second poem. There Is No Me in Society focuses on my
role as a woman in an oppressive society and my lack of a role other than the
one I have been assigned. The lack of choice afforded to women in terms of the
need to conform in order to survive forms the backdrop of this poem. The theme
of change is expressed in the necessity of change by outlining the many means
of oppression I have encountered. There is an emphasis that I am the only one
capable of exacting change in my life.
Aden’s response to my poem was one that
spoke of his struggles as he navigates his space. Speaking of the stigmas built
against men expressing emotions and the shackles of conformity to standards of
masculinity that bind them and shape them, Aden forms a response that speaks to
the struggle of many like himself. I found myself recognizing a similar form of
socialization of men in my culture through Aden’s perspective. It showed me the
similarities we share across borders, regardless of how developed the nations
are, in the need for change.
Where my poems were centred on the self
and my individual experiences with society, Aden’s poem The Unending is a
reflection on human nature and the repetitive cycle we call life. In reading
the poem, the image of actors on a stage, performing the same old script
reminded me of those around me who go through their lives, doing the same
things they have always done until they meet ‘their lamentable curtain call’.
As I reflected on the poem, I recognised the same scene, seeing Bharatanatyam (an Indian classical
dance) dancers on the stage in the place of actors, with anklets chiming as the
dancers spin. I included the theme of the cyclical nature of our existence and
introduced the pressure to take part and follow the same steps as those before
us. This is a hallmark of the Malaysian Indian culture I am part of. There is
the expectation of abiding by tradition. Being a spectator is not an option.
The notion of choice, present in The
Unending in the form of choosing to be a spectator and choosing to stay, is
one that comes with the pressure to conform in my poem, the weight of which
breaks the spirit of some while others stop dancing and leave the stage. The
line ‘I feel a fool as I dance and dance, but I can’t seem to stop’ is one that
mimics the tone of The Unending in
the helplessness present as one spectates or in the case of my poem, partakes
in the farce. In expanding on the theme of choice, it was important for me to
recognize that the dance is a means of survival for some, reflected in the
line, ‘there is no life unless I dance’. The luxury of being a mere spectator
and having the choice to leave found in Aden’s poem is one that is not present
in my poem as, from societal expectations of obedience and beauty to the
emphasis on the consequences of failing to abide to tradition along with the
vilification of any other path not in accordance with the expectations, there
is only the illusion of choice. The option to stop dancing is a luxury.
The cyclical nature of our existence,
depicted in The Unending as the
beginning of a new act, is one that resonated with me as, in my culture, the
end of the dance for one generation marks the start of the same dance for the
next. There is the expectation of educating the children, teaching them the
dance and exacting the same means of socialisation on the young ones. These
children take the stage at a young age when they are impressionable and they
are socialized accordingly. Girls are burdened with what is expected of them,
resulting in a lack of choice, a theme prevalent in my response poem. Change is
only possible when the cycle is broken. The
Endless Dance is therefore a lamentation on the cyclical existence that we
are part of, a theme shared in The
Unending. There is focus on the notion of choice in exacting change and the
freedom of lack of thereof to make said choices, all discussed within the realm
of a culture that is content with a cyclical existence. Aden’s poem inspired
these thoughts and forced me to consider what being an actor and a spectator
means for me.
Aden’s second poem Oh, thy Lamentable Lambs is one that takes on a tone of pity for
the state of the human race and all the frivolities we choose to engage in, in
the pretence that it gives meaning to our lives. When I read the poem the first
emotion I felt was irritation. I was annoyed by these individuals who refuse to
see sense and instead choose to be loud in their ignorance. I believe that my
annoyance had something to do with the fact that I have to struggle to be heard
whereas these people are given that luxury and just waste it. I echo the
sentiment expressed in Aden’s poem but with an emphasis on the choice to be
‘hollow’ that these individuals make when they choose to do and be something
that contributes nothing to society. Mimicking the almost religious tone of
Aden’s poem, I set out to admonish instead of lament to express my
dissatisfaction with those who have the luxury of being heard and yet say
nothing of value. I reflected on the fact that instead of looking to inspire
change, these selfish individuals, these ‘hollow ones’ choose to be nothing.
Where Aden places blame on God’s gift of foolishness, I instead brought
accountability back to the individual. It is after all a matter of free will.
This second poem was one that made me ponder the very nature of choice and the
disastrous decisions we make that ruin this gift of life. It also allowed me to
engage in a conversation through poetry where we illustrated our worldview be
it my pessimistic view of humans or our shared feeling of hope expressed in
prayer at the end of this poem.
Sharing this experience with Aden was an
enlightening and enjoyable exercise. It allowed for a conversation where we
were able to give input on an idea put forth and in doing so contributing
aspects of our culture to the discourse. It was fascinating to see where our
paths converged and diverged as we took on the theme of change, introducing
ideas of choice and hope and creating works of art that spoke to our individual
styles and perspectives. Reflections 2: The commentary of Aden Burg on Neon
Genesis
In this collaboration with Doris
Pushpam, we began by discussing what our theme or topic would be. Doris
suggested that we work this collaboration around aspects of our society that we
each believe need to be changed, I readily agreed and then we began to work on
our first initial poems. I cannot speak for Doris, but for me, my process was
to first consider aspects of society that I felt needed changing. This ended up
giving me far too much inspiration, as there was so many directions; which left
me dumbfounded on what direction I should take my poetry. So, I decided to
change directions; to instead consider what was something that was common to
all of these issues. The answer that came to me was that a lot of the issues
can be solved, it is simply that not enough is done or that the obvious answer
is avoided because people find it too troublesome. With that notion, I had a
clear idea of where I was to begin my poetry; with the notion of that which can
be changed but is not. In order to illustrate this, I used my poems to present
two major ideas; powerlessness and pity towards this lack of change. For the
former, I used the metaphor of a theatre performance to present how most
people, including myself, see themselves only as passive observers in a
performance that we all hate; but one that we do nothing about. As for the
latter, I wrote from the perspective of an angel, one who pities humans for
their foolish actions. In that, she is able to see obvious solutions to their
problems, but instead can only pity the humans as they waste their time and
ignore the solutions right in front of her. The idea of the “observer,” being
in both was unintentional, as I was more trying to present a critical lens
towards these issues through positions, which also allowed for a reader to
empathise with the frustration I feel towards these issues. All in all, I feel
that my ideas came out decently enough and provide great contrast with Doris’s
poems.
Doris’s two poems come across in an
entirely opposite way than mine, in that, my initial poems were more about the
observer’s frustration; Doris’ are more about an individual’s direct
experiences with society. Her first poem, There is no place like home, appears
to reflect the direct inequalities, discrimination and hardships that Doris has
experienced or observed. It is a critique of the wrongs of society in direct
relation to the narrator, an individual who has directly experienced these
issues. Then, There is no me in society, acts to critique how society tends to
push down individuality, especially in girls and women, and values only what is
on the surface. Doris presents the stifling, crushing and repressive world
where a woman only have value for their wombs. I personally love this poem, it
evokes so much raw feeling, especially with this powerful final statement:
There is no me in society
There is no I, no her, no she.
There is no me in society
Unless I choose to break free.
In order to address this difference in
direction, I read over her poems multiple times and attempted to do my best to
go in the same direction, but with my experiences. In that, I did not want to
emulate what Doris gave me to create a hollow facsimile, instead, I tried to
use my own personal experiences to respond in a way that truly represented me.
The first poem I attempted to reply to in this way was There is no me in
society, which I responded with my personal response; There is no (real) me in
society. I went for this shift because I have never felt alienated, or that I
only have value if I am a “good boy.” However, I am not traditionally masculine
or outgoing in any sense, so I often feel as though the “me” that society and
some members of family want me to be is simply the one they project onto me.
Therefore, I focused on this idea so I could follow Doris’ lead, without
damaging her work by being inauthentic. I attempted to do this by focusing this poem around the idea
of restriction, which I represented through the metaphor of chains physically
restricting me. From there, I followed Doris’ lead of describing the repression
of my true self, with each stanza representing different aspects of myself I
have felt as though are not needed or wanted. I then attempted to follow Doris’
powerful ending, which I attempted by ending the poem with the destruction of
the metaphorical chains.
I next had a significant amount of
trouble responding to No Place like home, since I could tell that my
experiences with “home” are very different than the ones Doris had. So, I had
to think a great deal in order to come up with how I should even go about
replying to this poem. After thinking for some time, I decided to try and reply
with my own critiques of what I consider to be “home.” In so doing, I ended up
splitting this up into two as I explored two different ideas; acceptance and
change. The former I simply titled Home, where I attempted to explore how
people not only turn away from accepting difference; but also towards the major
inconvenient problems of my home and how I would like my home to be on day.
With the second poem, I focused on endings are not always a bad thing, as it
can lead countries and people to completely change for the better. I chose this
motif because I wanted to illustrate that change and endings in and of countries
are not necessarily bad; as they can lead to much better new beginnings. Hence,
my responses of Doris’s No place like home were attempting to convey my own
individual ideas critiques of my home, which would contrast well with Doris’.
Overall, I felt that I did decently with my responses, but I think most readers
will find it is definitely clear that I had some trouble with responding to
Home. However, I think that I did do a good job responding to the thematic and
aesthetic of There no me in society. Evidently, this is also something that
Doris excelled at when she responded to my poetry.
In that, Doris similarly applied that
same lens of the observer, but added her own flair and experiences to shape
distinctly different poems. Her response to The unending, The Endless dance,
also focuses on a performance that represents the foolishness of people and a
lack of action. However, Doris interestingly uses the dance to represent a
farce that people all take part in, one that people feel foolishness, but do so
anyway; even knowing that the dance should be stopped. It is evocative,
interesting and well composed; it emulates my poem in a way that is both
distinctly similar and yet so different. If I had to say why, it is because
this is shaped by Doris’ different life experiences, her own perspective on
what should be done as an “observer,” and her keenly different prose. The
second poem, The Hollow ones, responds to Oh, Thy lamentable lambs with such
power. It presents much of the same concept, with a distinctly different poetic
flavour, but with more scathing critique and an overall different sentiment. In
that, my poem focuses on this angel looking upon human beings with pity; she
pities their foolishness and questions why God gave human beings his foolishness.
The overall positioning here was to create a disappointed guardian who is
filled with a questioning disappointment. Now, the sentiment of Doris’ angel is
entirely different, but wholly brilliant; one that I like to think is a
different angel who is a sort of co-worker of my angel. Doris, also presents
the sense of disappointment of an angel, a guardian looking downwards with
disappointment that mirrors the idea I presented. However, her angel has far
more distain, this angel sees human beings as hollow -hence the title- beings
who have wasted the gift of life. As such, this angel actively feels more
irritation and disgust as they beseech God end their foolishness by making
human beings wise. I find this so interesting because it diverges so much
because, in essence, my poem was about the pondering of an issue and then
having my character question just why this issue is here for the first place.
Whereas, Doris’ more directly states the issue, is about the active irritation
and distain for issue and ends with her angel directly asking for a solution. I
cannot help but find it so interesting, after all, to have so much similar, yet
to diverge so drastically with the overall perspective, sentiment and major
action is something I could think on for days. There are so many factors one
could say that lead to this difference, but I think simply observing and seeing
the differences for oneself is truly the best direction.
Overall, I found this collaboration with
Doris to be wonderful. I feel as I learnt a great amount and it was truly fun
and insightful, how such similar themes could lead to such an array of varied
and different poetry. It is truly and honour to have worked with Doris, to
communicate with her through prose that illustrates our ideas and differences
to fascinatingly beautiful results.