Touchy Subject
My soul, once slippery as an seal,
that eased as easily as an eel
to heaven and back, a wave worn path,
like slippy-sliding in the bath,
has grown rough ridges that jerk me back
into the mosh pit with the pack.
We flail with elbows, boot tips, knees—
all of us caught within the squeeze
of what we hate and knock against,
beat fist and teeth and cock against.
It’s like a cageless, viral zoo,
this rough world we’ve evolved into.
The whole world’s in each other’s viewing,
killing, ripping, tearing, chewing.
We touch the keys to tear asunder,
ravage, rape, ransack and plunder.
These same hands that could stroke the keys,
pound and punish, grab and seize.
We Tweet or Snapchat, Facebook, Skype,
barely touching as we type.
We are so constantly in touch
that we do not consider much
that in our constant online dealing,
we should give more thought to feeling.
We cannot feel a handshake’s squeezing,
warm and tender, pressured, pleasing,
when we’re too far away to touch.
We cannot feel so very much.
We feel with organs meant for thinking,
and make connections without linking.
Those of us who predate the text
tend to fear what’s coming next.
A simple touch could end the world—
all of us pulverized and hurled
into a place where nothing lingers.
No tongue, no lips, no questing fingers.
https://dversepoets.com/2018/11/13/tuesday-poetics-touch-me/

Very interesting how you used touch in a very different way. Yes, We must keep in touch with our world and its leaders to call them into question when they get carried away with themselves.
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And it is spreading to all of us.. this dependence on the internet to keep in touch..even with those close to us. Me, too. At one point the name of the piece was “Touch Typing” Still not sure which is the best title. You”got’ the poem, Roth.
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Thank you!
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Scary picture, but quite accurate portrayal of a scary world we live in,
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Pretty pessimistic, but just one side of the story. A lot of wonderful people on this earth. Things just seem to be especially unbalanced right now. When I look around me, though, there are pretty special people there. Most of them. In the blogging world, as well.
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Definitely, and you are one of them.
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Aha.. it wouldn’t let me reply to you last time I saw this but miraculously, here is a reply box! You were definitely one I thought of when writing the post, dear Dolly. You’ve been a fun and faithful blogging friend.
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I thank you, kind lady, and the feeling is mutual.
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I’ve done my recipe post, Dolly, but it is easy peasy compared to yours..It is the Haile Selassie/Green Chile Enchilada post, believe it or not.
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Going Ethiopian? That should be fun! I’ll go see.
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Well, more like going Americanized Mexican, but Haile does enter the picture.
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Both Haile and you enter the picture, I gather. Found it, read it, enjoyed it, and commented. Extremely cute!
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Yes. In the photo, I’m getting very cosy with him. Something I would hopefully not have done in real life. Coincidentlly, I did once meet his former mistress at a game lodge in Kenya–a British woman who was elderly by then, as he was, and quite willing to share her former exploits.
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Sounds intriguing; are you planning to share that experience?
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I shared the story in the recipe post, Dolly. I’ll post the photo when I get home. as it’s not on my computer.
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I like the way you brought in that additional use of the word touch (I wonder why we say we are “in touch” with someone or something?) but also emphasised the power of physical touch, and I love the rhythm and rhyme scheme – it has great movement. And I share your concerns.
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Thanks, Sarah. I wasn’t sure at first where it was going. So many of my poems seem to be ending up here lately. Guess we all can’t help but think of it.
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Oh yes, Judy, life is like a mosh pit! You’ve described modern living so well in the lines:
‘We flail with elbows, boot tips, knees—
all of us caught within the squeeze
of what we hate and knock against,
beat fist and teeth and cock against’
and
‘We touch the keys to tear asunder,
ravage, rape, ransack and plunder.
These same hands that could stroke the keys,
pound and punish, grab and seize.’
The final stanza says it all for me.
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I know. I wish I could be convincing enough in my arguments not to rail against things but simply to logically disprove them. It’s just hard not to get emotional when so many are violently so. Is it right to hate some? I think in some cases it is. Remember Christ destroying the booths of the moneychangers in the temple? I think we’re about at that point now. The moneychangers seem to have taken over our country.
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I really liked this Judy, so very visceral. At 71 I am like you – where the hell is the exchange intimacy in touching the creen on my iPad. It allows me to communicate which is fine, but a handshake, hearing the environment around us as we share poetry, hearing the real tone of your voice- so rare, and I miss it. But we have become so global, whch is cool in its way, but I still search out small groups to sit and talk poetry, and life, and hug. I have had a period of poor health so I have lost touch with my MeetUp poetry group. Feeling better, so I will be looking them up! Thank you for this wonderful poem Judy… 🙂
…rob from Image & Verse
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Thanks, Rob. Luckily I live in a place where there are hundreds of other writers. I could not stand not having that personal contact, but I absolutely love the blogging experience as well. A combination is best, but I do fear the time when each person is sealed up in their cubicle and the only contact is via the air. Evolution, terrorism and the ease of this sort of contact may make this necessary and so we just become individual machines. Perhaps the robots and computers will then develop personal human intercourse and take over the outside world. Leave us to our little shells? Just letting the imagination fly. I find much of worth in the outside world. It just isn’t reported much in our media.
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Rob, see https://judydykstrabrown.com/2018/11/13/a-magical-maven-of-mexico/ and other stories on the blog featured in my reblog. He tells tales of all the famous writers who have lived and written in the lake community where I live: D.H. Lawrence, Somerset Maughm, Dane Chanders (fictional amalgam of two writers) and the hundreds who now live here.
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An aspect of touch I might not have thought of, but so poignant. Scary.
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I think the non-touch of being in touch has changed the meaning of touch… maybe we need to come back to IRL sometimes.
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Yes. Agreed.
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Nice sounding, but ominous lines: “It’s like a cageless, viral zoo,
this rough world we’ve evolved into.”
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Lot of that ominous going around for the past few years. Fingers crossed.
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Yes.. Considering the Human Touch
Of HeART And Latest Studies
Showing Empathy
Dropping
off by
40 Percent
Among Young
College Age
Adults Just
‘Tween 2000
And 2010..
A Bit Concerning
iT iS Considering the
Older Adults With Perspective..
at Least one would Hope of Empathy..
Are iN Charge Now..
Yes.. Huuugely
Concerning
This is
Even
More NoW..:)
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They are desensitized by movies, song and literature. Violence and extreme cruelty seem to be needed for entertainment media and games to be a hit. There is barely anything to watch anymore that is both intelligent and uplifting and fun.
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True.. Without
A Human
Touch
Our
Species
Is Truly
Doomed
So Far Away
From
Love
The Priceless
Life Giving Touch.:)
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this stanza sums the situation up perfectly
The whole world’s in each other’s viewing,
killing, ripping, tearing, chewing.
We touch the keys to tear asunder,
ravage, rape, ransack and plunder.
These same hands that could stroke the keys,
pound and punish, grab and seize.
i call them keyboard warriors.
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Thanks, Piglet. The problem is, in this very poem I do the same. It is contagious.
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The power and beauty of personal communication, including touch, can’t be replaced by technology and social media. I know that world before text and iphones, and I am aghast at the seemingly unconnected we have become.
I fear this too: A simple touch could end the world—
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Texting is often too impulsive and too brief. and if you can’t hear the words spoken
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Plus, I don’t really know how to do it. People have shown me and I just forget.
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See what I mean? If you can’t hear the words spoken, can seem more cold and abrupt than intended. It gets me in trouble sometimes. I like the poem. Well said.
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Thanks Mary. Your writing has never sounded cold and abrupt to moi.
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