Conscious Beasts: Poems

 Précis

“Conscious Beasts” is the product of the genre project briefly discussed in the critical introduction. This project required students to analyze texts from class using any genre they preferred. Before beginning the project, though, students were required to submit a “genre statement” in which they stated their preferred genre, why they chose it, which text they planned to analyze, and what they wanted the audience to grasp through reading the project. This ensured that the professor knew the students’ plans and could offer any necessary suggestions to move forward. Moreover, when assigning a genre project, professors might consider first assigning a genre statement to confirm that students are making critical decisions about their chosen genre and focus rather than choosing an easy, low-effort route for their project. Below is a reworked version of the genre statement I submitted for my project—a series of poems inspired by images and themes in Haruki Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. I have expanded on the original statement to show an example of how professors can guarantee that students are choosing genres that will work well for them.

The genre I selected to work in is poetry because the format allows more room to experiment with language, imagery, and structure than some other writing genres. My project consists of poems inspired by Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, a novel that follows two parallel narratives—one involving a protagonist who finds himself caught up in a scientific experiment, and the other in which the protagonist lives in an alternate world where people have no minds. Murakami explores the layers of consciousness through the first protagonist’s experience of using his core consciousness as a container for “shuffling,” which involves scrambling information for security purposes. The protagonist is told that he cannot access his unconscious mind at all; however, there is evidence in the novel that memory is linked to entering and exiting core consciousness. In addition to referencing these ideas of consciousness and memory within Murakami’s novel, I also include a couple lines from other authors, in order to signify how my writing style is shaped by others. The goal of my project is to explore concepts like identity, dreams, reality, and, overall, what it means to exist. My evidence lies in ideas presented in Murakami’s novel, such as how identity is influenced by external forces and how the mind is linked with people’s perceptions of the world. I want the audience to better understand how our views of ourselves and of the world are filtered, and why we must have time, memories, and feelings in order to truly live.

While the poems I wrote do not include as many quotes and direct analysis as an academic essay might, they still provided me the space to explore ideas and interpretations raised while reading Murakami’s novel. After completing the project, I better understood symbols within the text, such as bones and rain, finding connections between these images and textual themes. The poetic format allowed me the freedom to think about the text creatively, which helped me formulate possible theories about identity and existence without having to draw a clear conclusion, as one might in an academic essay.

Poetry also offers more potential to experiment with form than most genres, and visual form can add to the purpose of the piece. For example, in “Poem where I speak to the Dream Self,” I use the contrapuntal form to portray the two parallel narratives that occur in Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. The form also represents conscious and the subconscious, both which are heavily discussed in Murakami’s novel. Form can be a useful way of engaging with themes and imagery, which makes poetry an advantageous genre for analyzing texts. Some may contend that students who have not taken poetry writing and poetics courses, as I have, would not succeed in choosing this genre for their project. This may be true, but instructors can address this concern by providing rounds of revision based on peer feedback. The instructor could even require a first draft to be submitted soon after the genre project in order to assess whether the student is using their genre effectively; in the case of a student not having studied poetry, the instructor might connect them with a professor specialized in poetics and additional creative writing resources. All that said, the purpose of the genre project is not necessarily for students to excel in one genre but to explore innovative ways of critically thinking about texts. 

The concept of the genre project, along with offering a new method of analysis, also works well to capture students’ interests and curiosities. I felt excited about the writing process since I was offered a choice as to which genre to work in, which ultimately motivated me to think deeply about my creative choices. Since an academic essay is more formulaic and clearly structured than a creative piece, I tend to write as if I am filling in a template. This is not to say that an academic essay involves less thought than a creative piece; however, the metacognitive processes for each type of writing are unique and can provide new insight. For students new to literary analysis and college-level writing, the genre project can provide space for students to practice analyzing texts and critically thinking without the stress of writing an essay. If students are less creatively-inclined, though, they also have the option to write a traditional essay. Thus, the genre project is useful for analyzing texts and appealing to students of diverse interests and needs.

A Sampling from “Conscious Beasts”

How much of this is me,

untouched by novels, voices,

wars, wars, wars?

Torn down past

flesh and muscle,

could you find me,

like pages of a book, or skull

of beast. I am

certain there is part of me

that belongs to only me. Every bone

has unique sound. I press

ear to palm, listen

for whispers, hidden

language of bones. If I could unlock

what lies beneath people—I would

hear unfiltered skeletons

of mother, of friend, of

lover, the sound of

spirit screaming above

the static. I would

unbury the world

sealed inside the gray.

Poem in real life

We all have those dreams

that feel real, touch and taste

tangible in our subconscious. Sensation

serves as our way of understanding

the world, a cluster of colors and textures

processed by the brain. What we know

to be real lies within our skulls—

without the mind, nothing leads anywhere.

If the brain controls all, then

what distinguishes reality

from imagination, which live

in the same place? Fiction

often sounds more real

than the truth, or at least

it feels more real. To dream

is to cross a bridge

between different parts of the mind,

between worlds. I exist

no more while awake

than I do while asleep, which means

dreams are real life, happening

in everybody’s heads, their own

universe inside the walls. 

in the dark                                           only my body exists

my motions feel like liquid                floating through empty space

warm whiskey                                     on a cold night

I like to think                                      I’m made of dreams

I’m unbreakable                                 thick as plastic

even when I snap                                myself in half

the thoughts                                        scattered and lost

from my mind                                     I always loved

the way I build                                    little worlds in my head

images of the future                            green, how I want you green

the sheen of possibility                       a pair of paper wings

sprouting from me                              like delicate dandelions

like weeds                                           in the field by my old house

I cry softly                                          there is music

in my hands                                        in the feeling of being lost

I want to change                                 the way I talk

the way I think                                    in distorted voices

but there’s no changing                      the hum of my brain

so instead I hide                                  inside a wonderland

Poem where I transform the waterfall

My brain betrays me some

times, so I am unconvinced that I am

my brain and my brain

is me. I like to talk to Myself

but Myself can be harsh

and unforgiving. Mom says

everyone has an inner critic

in their head, a voice

shaped by media and patriarchy

and stuff like that, which

makes a lot of sense, but then

should I shut out the world

or should I shut off my brain?

My mom says to look at

my thoughts like a waterfall, flowing

down in front of me.

You are not the waterfall, she says.

If I’m not my thoughts, then

what am I? I would ask

Descartes, but maybe

he’s the problem—one of the canonical

nails drilled into our brains

until we accept it as Truth. Maybe

I want to be the waterfall

so at least my thoughts and I

would be one, so that I’m more

than a computer program, a jumble

of codes and instructions written

by someone else. I want to be

painfully human.

Tonight I’m shapeshifting / like a storm / thunder rumbling in my blood / veins made / of lightning / I feel like / the world is striking / me until I collapse in a pile / of ashes / that’s what life is right / falling down and standing back / up until you die / we were all getting old / that much was as plain as falling rain / but what if / the body remained while the mind / slipped away like a shadow / still there is oxygen / in the lungs / but identity is stripped / externalized into beasts / that freeze / leaving only their skulls filled / with dreams of what used / to be / music and human feelings / there are no memories / in The End of The World / stealing memories was stealing time / no time, no life, no death / life cannot exist without fragility / every breath is sweeter / when knowing it could be the last / we are clocks / we are written by time / to have no past / means to lose existence