"milieu" is a book aimed at providing social commentary on contemporary issues in the form of poetry.
In a short work of twenty-three poems, the author attempts to have each poem address different phenomena that occurs in modern American society such as race, sex, human right, etc.
"milieu" is a book aimed at providing social commentary on contemporary issues in the form of poetry.
In a short work of twenty-three poems, the author attempts to have each poem address different phenomena that occurs in modern American society such as race, sex, human right, etc.
class photo
Little black child come stand by me.
Little white child come stand by me.
Little Mexican child come stand by me.
Won’t you pose? Won’t you pose?
Little Indian child come stand by me.
Little Asian child come stand by me.Â
Little Native child come stand by me.
Now tell that little white child to takeÂ
two steps back.
Little Mexican child, put a smile on your face.Â
Little Indian child, put a smile on your face.Â
Little Native child, put a smile on your face.
Why is half the class Asian?Â
Dismiss them for the day.Â
Little Native child, stand tall by me.Â
Little Mexican child, stand tall by me.
Little Indian child, stand tall by me.
Little black child, it’s fine if you slouch.
We acknowledge the disparities.
It's ok if you frown.Â
You can even get your pictures at aÂ
half-off discount.
Won’t you pose? Won’t you pose?
bye definition
To have discourse or discord? Really, what’s the difference?
I perused dictionary.com to undress the definitions.
Discourse: a communication of thoughts—an error page cut in.
I refreshed and typed again: “Word not found.” A linguistic crucifixion.
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “This needs to be addressed.”
A gruff hand gripped my shoulder in a moment of contention.
Cold steel conjoined my wrists. Metal pushed into my cerebellum.
Pursed my lips with the proverbial stitch. The officer said, “Now await your conviction.”
Velvet floor pattern beneath me. Facial collagen crackled at the slightest flinch.
“Don’t you know your words kill?” An insidious inquisition.
“This is torture. Release me. I have a right to free speech!”
“What is torture? This is redemption.” A dreaded premonition.
“Relax Jay, you sound bombastic. It’s really not that serious.
Speech has always belonged to the government. Just look up the definition.”
romance, etc.
Resigning myself to a third floorÂ
apartment room of minimalist design,Â
the walls naked of any accessories otherÂ
than the standard light switches and outlets,
with the bronze glow of a lamp,
and the low hum of an air mattress,Â
I am typing lines on a word processor
instead of swiping left and right.Â
By swiping I mean Tinder,Â
and by Tinder I mean dating apps,Â
allowing us to curate and pick the idealÂ
object of desire.Â
If the virtual encounter goes wellÂ
enough, you just might cut the physicalÂ
distance from miles to inches, to
two people nesting with one another,Â
bathing in oxytocin,
but someone will withdraw by the morning,Â
taken on the current ofÂ
American liberation.Â
It’s hard to keep somebody when you could
meet anybody,
our promises like grains of sand Â
as the wind kicks on a beach.Â
I find myself toiling in the library of my iPhone,Â
in the notes section to be exact,Â
listing out the qualities I might desire in a woman.
I might walk into a cafe, order a cortado, and catchÂ
a glimpse of a couple enjoying their day.Â
Reminded instantly about how the marriageÂ
rate is falling.
The guardrails of modernity make our reasonsÂ
for union less obvious.Â
But maybe, just maybe, this couple I’m watchingÂ
is in the process of beating the odds.Â
I look at them enjoy their meal, stretchingÂ
their jaws apart to smile at one another,Â
and I ask myself,Â
“Will I risk that?”
I see a little human nestled in the woman’s arms,Â
and I ask myself,Â
“Do I want that? If so, how many?”
Maybe I’m foolish.Â
Maybe I should move like the other youngsters,Â
download hinge, and enjoy the sex.
But that devours time.Â
And to what end, once orgasm has passed us by?
Aimlessness is coveted in this America of I.Â
Placing whims over reason,Â
and lust over longevity.
Talking cool through my lips,Â
dancing smooth between her lips,Â
Scouring the world for romance,
in perpetual adolescence.
milieu by Jay Green opens with a powerful and memorable message about tokenism and performative activism, establishing the strength of Green's voice, the passion behind this collection and Green's wish to reflect upon how much has shifted in the past two or so years - "after the year left him politicised". Green demonstrates a desire to comment and impact change/reflection through the vehicle of poetry.
With America as the focus, borne out of an exasperation, Green critiques modern society - our social media addictions, our mob mentality, the desperation to monetise everything we do and the pressure to live life as everyone else is in order to not be excluded. Further to this, Green adds weight to his poetry through the inclusion of quotations, chosen for how they reflect upon the state of things, which reveal how to ruminate upon current affairs is the fuel of literature, how everything written can be seen as a response to the world at the time. Reading in this way felt like a learning experience; the reader is invited to question, consider and decide.
"One inch at a time.
Mechanisms of the mouth rust over.
Doves hang in the willows.
Wiser men have caught the silence." [war]
milieu also reveals Green's talent as a storyteller with a piece like 'We don't look at fences' which is incredibly moving. In fact, all of the narrative pieces in this collection are superb. 'Notes from Gaia' is particularly special as it explores the idea of faith: "I let the fruit / ripen then give it the urge to spoil" / "Do not assume God is discovered in one generation".
In all, Green has balanced twenty three pieces masterfully to reveal how conflicted we can be, how lost we become within movements and yet still struggle to enact or even see the change we wish to experience. Green provides commentary but makes a statement too, and although it verged on nihilism at times, milieu ends with a gorgeously hopeful piece paying homage to the voices before him.