The citizens
gave up industry, simplicity and thrift
for entertainment
While Rome burned
The merchants
turned a corner somewhere
trading in flesh instead of fowl
While Rome burned
The soldiers
became pleasure seekers
leaving the sword for a fork and a glass
While Rome burned
The generals
became sleepy handing in their maps
for silk sheets and just one more night
While Rome burned
And from here
so many years later
we can no longer see
the orange glow of the fire
Nor do we care much
That Rome indeed burned…
{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
I don’t know if it’s the mood I’m in (a bitter, sophisticated cocktail of despair and resolve, garnished with hope) or merely an absolute truth, but this poem is hugely resonant for me right now. Have you read Gordon Dahlquist’s play, Messalina? You should. Hell, everyone should…
America, circa 2006.
Happy 4th of July.
Does anyone remember what that was all about?
Robert ought to read Vico’s the New Science. Hell, everyone should. This poem reminds me of that. The nice thing is Vico’s connection to that weird ancient frame of mind when one could talk in all seriousness of giants, which in a strange way allows one to see a bit more fully the two sides of the coin. He touches on this topic in a way few have.
Rabelais also, in Gargantua and Pantagruel, has got the prescription:
Good friends, my Readers, who peruse this Book,
Be not offended, whilst on it you look:
Denude yourselves of all depraved affection,
For it contains no badness, nor infection:
‘Tis true that it brings forth to you no birth
Of any value, but in point of mirth;
Thinking therefore how sorrow might your mind
Consume, I could no apter subject find;
One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span;
Because to laugh is proper to the man.
Participation in life is not a partial involvement of man; he is engaged with the whole of his existence, for participation is existence itself. There is no vantage point outside existence from which its meaning can be viewed and a course of action charted according to a plan, nor is there an island to which man may withdraw in order to recapture himself. The role of existence must be played in uncertainty of its meaning, as an adventure of decision on the edge of freedom and necessity, all while for some its Rome burning, for others a new Jerusalem.
Pantagruelism: a certain gayety of spirit confected in disdain for fortuitous things…
And with gin in hand, I say IF Rome is burning THIS is the attitude most needed. Amen!
Colleen - I’ve been drinking the same cocktail for several weeks. I think its the heat we’re having, my Nordic skin prefers fog and rain…
Have not read Dahlquist… without immediate access to Sam French, my plays have gone down the toilet. I don’t think I’ve bought a play in 10 years.
Brian - Congrats on nailing this one. You’ve placed it better than what was in my head when I was laying it on the paper…
And, I try to remember.
Jecklin - I ‘m a self-educated man with gaping holes in his intellect. Have mercy on me.
And with Ropewalk Amber Ale in hand (handcrafted in Portland, OR by Bridgeport Brewery [no, this is NOT a Payperpost]), I say IF Rome is burning THIS is our responsibility.
Keep coming around here man.
Robert, I am slightly confused by the end of your poem. It seems as though since we don’t see the fire from our perspective or even care that Rome did indeed burn, then actually it may not really matter all that much. It’s happened, it’s done, it could have been prevented but so what, life goes on. But the rest of the poem has a gravity of tone and so seems to serve as a warning and as a demonstration of how we fail to learn from history and others mistakes. So for me anyway, the line ‘Nor do we care much’ doesn’t quite seem to have the right tone. I could be wrong however, so feel free to disregard my comment!
Nah, never disregarded…
Good luck on figuring these things out, your guess is as good as mine K.
Though I do sense that the warning falling on deaf ears thing is close. I think it may matter exactly because we could care less at this point.
It is chilling to me to think of the similarities between the two cultures.
And more chilling to think about our disaffected attitude toward those similarities.
OK. End of lecture…
Kamsin, go to the nearest mall and look around. You’ll get it.
Yeah, what he said.
Robert, I’m probably as self-educated as you, or less?more? so.
The poem hit home precisely because I’ve been thinking about this _alot_ lately, too. But then I think of Rabelais and how zoo-like that age was–and I wonder if we’re more like that.
Regardless, I always feel better about the world when I turn off the computer, shrink it down to a more human scale, and we bike down and tend our small plot at our community garden, sharing veggies with the neighbors.
I look at it like a transition from Nowhere to Nowhere.
And in some ways, its alright because maybe we’ve believed the hype for too long. On the other hand, it makes living difficult for families and good people.
Amen J.