Kalypsoul: The Other Self: Demon Seed

Thursday, January 27, 2005

Demon Seed

To: Innocent child of rape

Demon Seed

Innocent Child Born of Rape

Two warring souls revive the scene of Eden’s paradise!
Mars and Venus rivalry, a violator’s heist

‘Twas the heady exhilaration of power’s lure methinks
loss of sensibility to animal instincts

Neither silent cries, nor pleas of love, nor sentiments hold sway
when coarse passions of the wicked, allowed to rule the day

No lover's kiss, no tender sigh, no time for pleasantry
a mutual joy must now submit to bestiality.

No ice-cream swirl, no velvet red, no chocolate-sprinkled dips
just vengeance vindication, come spewing from the hips

A million wee demoniacs swim upstream with intent
like leeches to immobile prey, your loins’ malevolence

Rampaging rigidity, contemptuous to the nth
the apple won, serpentine lust, your avarice lies spent

Dignity long since denied, her purity assailed
forever she must pay the price in weeping and travail

Yet chooses she to spare the life of demon’s infant fruit
And end the chain of violence so treasured by the brute

A season’s early ripening is born to sunlight air
Cleansed by mother’s tender love, and made whole by her tears

So swim on, little demon seed, like mullet in the stream
break free of every evil weed, rebuild your mother’s dream.

© KP Lewis (Kalypsoul)
2004

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The Way I Use Language

Author’s Note: Codeflow

You will find that I have started to experiment with movement in communication referencing (in speech and thought patterns) from dialect to standard that is neither unidirectional nor formulaic. This is deliberate. The style used here is my experimentation with what I call code-flow. I find myself writing the way I speak – in a comfortable, fluid mixture of standard and dialect, often within the same sentence, the same thought. It is what we Caribbean people do in uncontrived everyday speech. It is not code-shifting with which the literary world is familiar. Code-switching or code- shifting tends to follow a certain pattern, dialect for speech and standard for description and narration as has been traditionally used in Caribbean fiction. I am taking it a step further, letting dialect flow into standard and back again in both dialogue and narration/description, mingling together in the same sentence, the same thought. To me this shows the true fluidity/reality of how we operate linguistically in everyday life. We do not think in standard English and converse in Trini dialect; we think in both and speak in both but not all the same time. I may begin a thought in the standard received form but suddenly I want to express surprise, hilarity, indignation, outrage and the standard does not have the right words. I flow effortlessly to that in which I can express those thought, those ideas, those sentiments most comfortably. I express them and, depending on what I wish to reference next, I either move back to standard, stay where I am or move deeper into another dialect comfort zone. I may say it in French Patois or Cocoa Panyol or a dialect of Hindi or of English or I may use a uniquely West African turn of phrase or grammatical construct or express m thoughts in a totally creative word or expression known only to my country or one group or individual within. Language gets created through use and new words and expressions all have a very specific starting point.

Code switching is an improvement on the outright rejection of the use of dialect as having no place in the written word or in Caribbean literature. It also differs from the outright rejection of the standard as a form of linguistic resistance to colonialism. Yet, code switching is a colonized, conformist mode that, in spite of itself, accepts the superiority of the standard and makes apologies for dialect by restricting its use only to direct speech. It reflects the pedagogy of colonial education which polarized the acceptable standard of the reading books and the classroom from the unacceptable dialect of everyday use by everyday people. It was a time when the whip was applied to purge the tendency towards dialect use in respectable settings.

Code sliding attempts a more integral blending of the two and brings together a variety of Caribbean dialects in one form. It moves in the direction of defining a distinct and decolonized Caribbean identity in the aftermath of colonialism. The term code-sliding, however, implies for me a lack of control, a downward sort of slippery slope movement, and a built-in acceptance of linguistic hierarchies. Instead I advance the concept of code-flow which conveys the sense of non-hierarchical fluidity and an effortlessness that defines acceptance of a unique identity in the context of postmodernity rather than deliberate conscious resistance in the context of coloniality or postcoloniality. It speaks of creativity, reinterpretation and transformation. The smooth fluidity of language that melds the standard with dialect in a thought, in a phrase, in a sentence, shows not so much a rejection of historic influences but an acceptance of the new self, the birth of a Caribbean identity in which colonialism and an ethos defined by resistance to it are merely blurred distant memories. Caribbean code-flow essentially involves and emerges from an unequivocal acceptance of all aspects of a new self: Africa, Europe, India and Mesoamerica, all integral to the new identity through reinterpretation and transformation. It is méstissajé, creolité, unrepentant.