I like this a lot and I share your frustration here :D I hate when people refuse to be honest in the name of politeness or an inability to decline suggestions respectfully. Obviously, it's not just an American phenomenon, but new strains of bullshit proliferate especially well in the civilisational centre of the era, and right now that is the US.
It's always awesome to get a comment from you, Abisi!
I've been experiencing this "cipher" in use for my entire life, and always intuitively suspected that it wasn't being used to the same extent worldwide. There's something about 1st-world living which promotes dishonesty by creating enough margin of error to permit it. People have the luxury of being able to say things in a way catering to their own vain desires to be "a nice person," because there's less urgency to communicate efficiently, or even follow through with actions as planned. After all, operating under severe misapprehensions won't make the difference between surviving a cold winter, and either starving or freezing to death.
I imagined that other places were more virtuous, in the sense of giving more deference to the relationship between alternate courses of behavior and material realities. I'd probably already grown out of this way of thinking by the time I wrote the poem, but it was more fun to let it seep back in than attempt to express my own beliefs as precisely as humanly possible (almost never the correct way to write a compelling poem).
As a child, I remember asking my family for ice cream or chocolate and slowly realizing that their words didn't always mean exactly what they said. I had a vague sense that there was something hidden between the lines, but I never consciously learned to read it. As I grew up, I still didn't learn. Then, as an adult, someone told me a few wishful words: in this world, 90% of things people are not going to communicate with you. You've got to understand yourself. In polite words, that person said Learn how to read between the lines.
Then I grew diplomatic. Sometimes it's frustrating; sometimes I feel like picking up a fight with people who arent straight forward. Eventually, reading between the lines ends up making people go into survival mode, constantly deciphering what others are saying.
Thanks so much for engaging with this, Erin. Your comment absolutely made my day!
I really like the way you think. Not only are you capable of realizing on your own that the vast majority of human interactions happen in coded language, but you have insight into the consequences of expectating individuals to conform with this system, rather than hear and speak more straightforwardly.
I too think that we're shooting ourselves in the proverbial foot, by expecting each other to say the thing which "translates" into what is meant, instead of the thing itself which is meant. This convention strips language of the ability to express many things, at all. For instance, if "I love your poem" could actually mean anything ranging between "I absolutely love your poem" and "I only hate it a little," then what assortment of words may one use to express precisely "I love your poem" and be understood? If I said "Your poem is so-so" then you would think that I thought it was awful, through the same process of interpretive devaluation by which you would take "I love your poem" to mean that I (at least) thought it was so-so.
The opportunity to precisely denote degrees of affinity could be re-instilled into language if we all, for example, were to agree to praise one another more parsimoniously. But it's impossible for one person to take the lead in this regard while waiting for everyone else to follow — because rather than being followed, the "early adopter" of sincerity would simply be perceived as some kind of troll, who hated (or pretended to hate) nearly everything.
You are absolutely right that present-day social conventions have us all funtioning in survival mode, doubting the sincerity of one another's friendships and professed interest while waiting for the other shoe to drop. And this mode isn't conducive to productive discourse, so we spiral into ever-stricter standards of "etiquette" (which is sometimes framed as acceptance or tolerance). But the initial problem never had anything to do with rudeness or elitism, and everything to do with abandoning linguistic integrity. And it has lead us to a place where most of the time we're the same kind of "polite" to one another as someone with a gun to their head would have to be to their assailant.
I'm sorry if my rant here was too entensive. I get sincerely excited whenever I encounter another who can perceive these kinds of deep, structural social problems — as these problems are precisely what I've dedicated my writing career to exposing.
I especially liked your point about language losing precision. I hadn't thought of it that way before, but it explains why so many of us end up relying on implication rather than words themselves. What struck me while reading your poem was less the existence of coded language and more what constantly decoding it does to a person. Over time, it shifts conversations from something you experience naturally into something you’re constantly interpreting and managing in the moment.
I'm glad my comment resonated with you, and I appreciate you taking the time to expand on the idea.
Now it's a ride, not a death match" is such a powerful way to put it. I really like that distinction...
I think that's what resonated with me too; that constant need to stay a few steps ahead can become exhausting when it feels like every interaction has to be deciphered.
I'm glad it sounds like you've found a way to live with that part of your mind instead of constantly battling it.
I love how you modified it 11 years later, the way you played with the grammar for emphasis, doing the unexpected. As the great Steve Wheeler would call it: you, Sir, are a creative deviant and I love it!
Imagine being a blowhard who has no other skills? If they lose their jobs… especially in a way that they can’t get a clean reference from the courts… oh, no, that’s easy. Or doesn’t matter. If…
You stay in power.
That’s what I got from this, but it was pretty buried… or I’m reading into it. Which makes it art.
You're a good poet. In all seriousness, don't mar it with softballs like "Union Joe", it just takes the whole thing down a peg, and you're much, much better than that. How about " hoist the dread of all foes", something like that?
I do the same thing. When you have talent, you can get lazy; I know I do, sometimes. It's why I play R&B in a bar band, and not classical guitar (too much work).
You didn't like the Union Joe thing and that's fine, but I don't think it's lazy to use it here. Union Jack to Union Joe has a cool poetic juxtaposition to it. Sure, it's an easy thought to have, but it works well and that's what matters. It's like the difference between a sweet, simple, out-of-key chord change or a jagged over-the-barline notey turn around. Which is better depends on the context around it, not whether it's easy to do or not.
Thank you for being here, JESL. I really enjoy receiving critical comments, and don't get nearly enough of them around here. And thanks as well for your vote of confidence in my writing skills.
In this particular instance, I'm much too fond of "Union Joe" to be tempted to change it. The poem is voiced as a sort of mocking denunciation of a way of communicating paired with a mentality, and I can't think of anything more revealing of this mentality than for the speaker to imagine that those for whom he is speaking would wish to install a more American-sounding replacement for the UK flag, symbolically extending the shroud of decadence epitomized by the use of the "cipher".
The "Union Joe" line may sound like a forced rhyme, but it is actually what I began the stanza with, building out the other lines of the stanza to accomodate it. I'm aware that not everyone has the same sense of humor, nor will likely find the notion nearly as scathingly funny as it is in my head.
Now you have me wondering about your bar band. Which instrument do you play, if you don't mind my asking?
I like this a lot and I share your frustration here :D I hate when people refuse to be honest in the name of politeness or an inability to decline suggestions respectfully. Obviously, it's not just an American phenomenon, but new strains of bullshit proliferate especially well in the civilisational centre of the era, and right now that is the US.
It's always awesome to get a comment from you, Abisi!
I've been experiencing this "cipher" in use for my entire life, and always intuitively suspected that it wasn't being used to the same extent worldwide. There's something about 1st-world living which promotes dishonesty by creating enough margin of error to permit it. People have the luxury of being able to say things in a way catering to their own vain desires to be "a nice person," because there's less urgency to communicate efficiently, or even follow through with actions as planned. After all, operating under severe misapprehensions won't make the difference between surviving a cold winter, and either starving or freezing to death.
I imagined that other places were more virtuous, in the sense of giving more deference to the relationship between alternate courses of behavior and material realities. I'd probably already grown out of this way of thinking by the time I wrote the poem, but it was more fun to let it seep back in than attempt to express my own beliefs as precisely as humanly possible (almost never the correct way to write a compelling poem).
Always a pleasure :D And yes precision rarely works well in poetry
This poem struck me more deeply than I expected.
As a child, I remember asking my family for ice cream or chocolate and slowly realizing that their words didn't always mean exactly what they said. I had a vague sense that there was something hidden between the lines, but I never consciously learned to read it. As I grew up, I still didn't learn. Then, as an adult, someone told me a few wishful words: in this world, 90% of things people are not going to communicate with you. You've got to understand yourself. In polite words, that person said Learn how to read between the lines.
Then I grew diplomatic. Sometimes it's frustrating; sometimes I feel like picking up a fight with people who arent straight forward. Eventually, reading between the lines ends up making people go into survival mode, constantly deciphering what others are saying.
Thanks so much for engaging with this, Erin. Your comment absolutely made my day!
I really like the way you think. Not only are you capable of realizing on your own that the vast majority of human interactions happen in coded language, but you have insight into the consequences of expectating individuals to conform with this system, rather than hear and speak more straightforwardly.
I too think that we're shooting ourselves in the proverbial foot, by expecting each other to say the thing which "translates" into what is meant, instead of the thing itself which is meant. This convention strips language of the ability to express many things, at all. For instance, if "I love your poem" could actually mean anything ranging between "I absolutely love your poem" and "I only hate it a little," then what assortment of words may one use to express precisely "I love your poem" and be understood? If I said "Your poem is so-so" then you would think that I thought it was awful, through the same process of interpretive devaluation by which you would take "I love your poem" to mean that I (at least) thought it was so-so.
The opportunity to precisely denote degrees of affinity could be re-instilled into language if we all, for example, were to agree to praise one another more parsimoniously. But it's impossible for one person to take the lead in this regard while waiting for everyone else to follow — because rather than being followed, the "early adopter" of sincerity would simply be perceived as some kind of troll, who hated (or pretended to hate) nearly everything.
You are absolutely right that present-day social conventions have us all funtioning in survival mode, doubting the sincerity of one another's friendships and professed interest while waiting for the other shoe to drop. And this mode isn't conducive to productive discourse, so we spiral into ever-stricter standards of "etiquette" (which is sometimes framed as acceptance or tolerance). But the initial problem never had anything to do with rudeness or elitism, and everything to do with abandoning linguistic integrity. And it has lead us to a place where most of the time we're the same kind of "polite" to one another as someone with a gun to their head would have to be to their assailant.
I'm sorry if my rant here was too entensive. I get sincerely excited whenever I encounter another who can perceive these kinds of deep, structural social problems — as these problems are precisely what I've dedicated my writing career to exposing.
I especially liked your point about language losing precision. I hadn't thought of it that way before, but it explains why so many of us end up relying on implication rather than words themselves. What struck me while reading your poem was less the existence of coded language and more what constantly decoding it does to a person. Over time, it shifts conversations from something you experience naturally into something you’re constantly interpreting and managing in the moment.
I'm glad my comment resonated with you, and I appreciate you taking the time to expand on the idea.
Getting three steps ahead of everything used to keep me in fight of flight (or craving meth so I could get there chemically).
I don’t think my brain will ever work differently, nor would I know what to do if I could change it. But now it’s a ride, not a death match.
No fighting it… or I’m not motivated to.
Now it's a ride, not a death match" is such a powerful way to put it. I really like that distinction...
I think that's what resonated with me too; that constant need to stay a few steps ahead can become exhausting when it feels like every interaction has to be deciphered.
I'm glad it sounds like you've found a way to live with that part of your mind instead of constantly battling it.
Thanks for sharing something so personal...
I’m an American Sypher, but I think that’s different
It’s a beautiful name. Is it German?
Thanks so much for subbing back to me! I hope you enjoy it here, in this small poetic principality.
It’s actually fake! My pen name is a fabrication because my real name is too silly for middle schoolers ☺️
If you chose it, you should be commended for its excellence all the more! 👏
I love how you modified it 11 years later, the way you played with the grammar for emphasis, doing the unexpected. As the great Steve Wheeler would call it: you, Sir, are a creative deviant and I love it!
Thanks so much, Tara! And thanks for the sub too. ☺️ I'm glad you resonated with this, and will try to check out your work when I get the chance.
I like the title of "deviant." It's too bad there isn't a site like Deviantart, for poets.
Imagine being a blowhard who has no other skills? If they lose their jobs… especially in a way that they can’t get a clean reference from the courts… oh, no, that’s easy. Or doesn’t matter. If…
You stay in power.
That’s what I got from this, but it was pretty buried… or I’m reading into it. Which makes it art.
Congrats!
I'm not sure what you're smoking as you write these comments, but am pretty sure I'd like to try some. Would you kindly pass it along?
You're not the vicious dog, are you? Please don't bite; this is a human salon. Some would say an all-too-human one.
You're a good poet. In all seriousness, don't mar it with softballs like "Union Joe", it just takes the whole thing down a peg, and you're much, much better than that. How about " hoist the dread of all foes", something like that?
I do the same thing. When you have talent, you can get lazy; I know I do, sometimes. It's why I play R&B in a bar band, and not classical guitar (too much work).
You got the chops, homes. Keep it up.
You didn't like the Union Joe thing and that's fine, but I don't think it's lazy to use it here. Union Jack to Union Joe has a cool poetic juxtaposition to it. Sure, it's an easy thought to have, but it works well and that's what matters. It's like the difference between a sweet, simple, out-of-key chord change or a jagged over-the-barline notey turn around. Which is better depends on the context around it, not whether it's easy to do or not.
It's your poem.
No dude :D I'm just some random guy with his panties in a twist
I believe I was being polite, but if you insist on wearing panties, feel free.
You were polite :D No worries. Just to be clear; I did not write this poem. Rafa wrote this poem.
Okay, thanks for the clarification.
Thank you for being here, JESL. I really enjoy receiving critical comments, and don't get nearly enough of them around here. And thanks as well for your vote of confidence in my writing skills.
In this particular instance, I'm much too fond of "Union Joe" to be tempted to change it. The poem is voiced as a sort of mocking denunciation of a way of communicating paired with a mentality, and I can't think of anything more revealing of this mentality than for the speaker to imagine that those for whom he is speaking would wish to install a more American-sounding replacement for the UK flag, symbolically extending the shroud of decadence epitomized by the use of the "cipher".
The "Union Joe" line may sound like a forced rhyme, but it is actually what I began the stanza with, building out the other lines of the stanza to accomodate it. I'm aware that not everyone has the same sense of humor, nor will likely find the notion nearly as scathingly funny as it is in my head.
Now you have me wondering about your bar band. Which instrument do you play, if you don't mind my asking?
💞