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Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Metaphors are Culturally Driven


Metaphors are Culturally Driven

By Carl R ToersBijns

April 8, 2015

 

Why do we like to use metaphors and how does that impact my way of words and expressive behaviors as we try to create a moment of poetic creativity in a cognitive and linguistic manner so I can be sure the words used and written reflect the actual thoughts and perceptions of my mind.

The answer is not that simple but when you search deep within yourself, you eventually find what you are looking for and see for yourself how metaphorical creativity present you with a conceptual moment and a manipulated idea to share devices of the mind and come to a conclusion that is easy to understand as it draws cognitive and graphic creativity for you to see with your own mind and within your own culture.

Cultures are hinged on perceptions, beliefs, customs and practices. To put credibility on such effects there must be the use of the imagination as well as the presence of elaboration to clarify thoughts or ideals through the use of words. Each language has its own set of words but the words can change meanings unless the use of metaphors steers it into the direction provided by the author for such ordinary but important purposes as communication and journalism.

Perhaps the use of metaphors is more imaginative in poetry than journalism but the need to balance between fact and fiction has always been the key to skillful writings. Although we give more lateral movement to poetry, we should also include a defined latitude in journalism so we can distinguish the difference between the creativity involved and the manipulation of desired outcomes and ideas.

We all possess a fair amount of creative and cognitive devices. We all learned that metaphors can be used to be factual in nature but exaggerated in expression. Thus we balance the two in order to keep the elements clear and not formulate or design more than one train of thought or pattern.

This is most difficult to do and maintain over a long period of time as the metaphorical creativity tends to dominate the need to go even further into the creative world and device some kind of vision for you to see. Hence, the challenge is to keep it in context as much as possible without straying or going off on a tangent.  

Under most circumstances, people, different people but ordinary people, conceptualize an idea or thought metaphorically and do so to better understand the idea under the pressures of comprehensive skills and their own personal experiences. In such cases, we must be assured the metaphor is kept within the context provided or intended in order to create a reflection of the truth or actuality.

Under the burden of being persuasive, we have to work under the pressure of comprehension and context. One cannot accomplish facts without the other if you are using metaphors as a means to convey an idea or concept. Keeping in mind, context can be used in poetry in two ways; poets can designate or elaborate the context in which they create the poetry and they may use the context as a means to say or express something else.

In journalism, the poetry is eliminated by the use of a straightforward example of describing the scene or concept disallowing any creativity to set in, making the situation appear to be a black and white situation or case remembering that the context is the scene and the scene has to be preserved with facts to tell the truth.

While journalist are injecting and producing the context (scene) in an almost literal manner, they do use adjectives and other forms of descriptive nouns to keep it real. This does not mean they can’t use that description of the surrounding context without metaphors. Keeping the context literal and enhancing its surroundings with metaphors appears to be an acceptable manner to express the description.

Here the context remains the domain and the metaphors are working the edges of the surroundings creating a pleasant mix of creativity with factual data or descriptions. Thus the writer has two targets; the context and the surroundings with each its own domain.

The descriptive statements must match the domain and to mix or combine the two would only cause a confusion of the facts when the metaphors used are describing something other than the original domain of context.

The point here is to simply ensure that the dominant literal description of the context is not tampered with by the use of certain metaphors not remarkably general in nature and distracting certain concepts or facts from the source of the domain (context) rather than the surrounding perspectives.

Changing cultures changes the meanings of perceptions and descriptions provided adding confusion to the meaning of such writings. The writer has to focus on the dominantly literally conceived source or context when it intends to convey a message or description.

Separating context into a cultural context, we change the choices of the scene partly due to motivated customs and practices as well as beliefs and traditions. It is true that a symbolic belief is different from various parts of the world and this adds another concept to the use of metaphors in our writings making it very important to understand the differences between cultural diversities around the globe.

Adding another dimension to the cultural context is the surrounding physical cultural environment. It is important that the writer maintains a defined line in the relationship between the scene and environment.

Keeping it culturally accurate in order to convey personal relationships or physical connections validated through various cultural means keeping in mind that some cultural inferences are based on human biology and how that gives the character or descriptive personality linked to the contextual domain described. This is how we create misunderstandings and metaphors just add more to the confusion if the link is not properly connected to the cultural context described.

This the cultural context includes many things including the belief systems, the technology available to the persons or character and other various specific forms of cultural variations either geographically, ethnically or religiously.

One could not begin to talk about cultural influences without talking about social implications or social context. Remember the conceptual creation is based on the main form or domain of the context provided. This cannot change under most circumstances.

We cannot confuse the main domain with a target domain. We cannot construct a new structure out of the original structure as it changes the meaning or context as well as the metaphorical efforts to describe the surrounding environment. They are all connected and all related at one point of the concept and that domain is a fixed or permanent domain.

Removing the original social structure or context creates a new social structure or context. This must be avoided unless the writer deliberately changes the meaning of the primary domain and creates a new target domain on purpose. This can be done accurately if all methods are used to harmonize the context and surroundings to a common theme or conceptualization.

I found this analysis helpful in my writings and pay attention to not overly combine the effect of these metaphorical factors or influences in my writings. I have become more aware of the blending factors and how they change the concept or context unintentionally. Thus the interaction in using metaphorical induced ideas or concepts should take into consideration all what has been noted to be an integration theory that makes the motivation to input metaphors into the works accurate and reasonable under such recognized factors.

I am not suggestion writing a conventional style metaphoric paper. I am merely suggesting that context of writings can be changed unintentionally when they are modified in response to contextual factors such as was written in this paper.

Concluding my thoughts, we should keep in mind poems and poetic languages sometimes disregard cultural social and personal backgrounds of the reader possibly distorting the original idea or approach. Secondly, there are social and historical as well as technological perspectives or concepts we have to include or be aware of to avoid contradictory views or mixing context rather than building natural bridges of comprehension and systematical views.

The use of metaphors can be a natural and educating experience in the writings of poetic materials or in journalism. These views have long been supported by the current use of metaphors in various context and stories. In a critical climate as we live in today, we actually stand to be at a greater risk to offend or underestimate the degree of accuracy between what is written and what the writer actually wanted to convey to the reader.

Citation:
Reading the writings of Zoltán Kövecses
“Metaphor and poetic creativity: a cognitive linguistic account”
Eötvös Loránd University Budapest
 

Icicles hanging from my head


Icicles hanging from my head

By Carl R ToersBijns

April 8, 2015

Some say it’s cool to having icicles hanging from my head, they draw such clear crystal clear streaks and make me look so beautiful and cool standing in the sun, but deep inside these spikes of ice, there is trouble deep brewing inside my head that is making me feel cold and old mixed with emotions not new

Because I let those very same frigid conditions form these icicles hanging from my head, I have to deal with my snow covered emotions and freezing water inside my veins causing me to be damned and dammed from the world and separated from the warmth and comforts I once knew, before this ice lifeform appeared and made me turn blue as if I was ready for the dead

Icicles can cause so much damage, it has never really been told, no one who wears them so proudly on the sides of their heads, has ever been so bold, to loosen up and tell the truth, when icicles melt and pour out your concentrated contaminated soul, your troubles are far from over, as your begin a new life in dealing with this emotionless cold

The results are not pretty, the once smooth skin just peels away like a snake when it sheds its skin, and the body warps and twists with pain as you begin to realize the sagging discomfort inside you will sadly forever stay

I cannot forget to mention the dampness you feel inside and the soggy feelings about others you once knew, as you felt the loss of valuable warmth dissipate into the once blue sky above your head, now covered with grey and stormy clouds

Icicles can bring you mold and mildew as you wake up each morning with the frozen morning dew, as you realize so sudden, you have become a magnet for anything that draws the heat away from you

As the frozen masses melts into icy water and runs sadistically through your vessels including the brain; no matter how hard you tried to shake it, the freezing water runs freely through your veins and avoids your body from making the heat to make it all go away and no longer make you feel this way

As time passes by, you realize your icicles may stay around forever if you let them, as you realize there are no quick fixes to the frosty temperatures around you and the icy emotions that it mixes, so you dam up your soul and you dam up your heart, without the heat inside your body, no healing will ever start

As time causes the freezing water to flow up to these dams above, your mind and soul escape the desires and wants of a bountiful kind of human love; thick ridges appear, your skin appears solid for this lifestyle you have chosen as the frozen hate inside of you has put out the fire of passion and desire to become a loving being again; in your mind you know the truth, you know which way to let the water flow and let this coldness go

If you let the freezing water collect in the chambers of your still warm but broken heart, the heat will collect and form an accumulated collection of fond memories and faces of people who you have long ignored and return your life back to normal with a warm and cozy thawed out start; But whatever you do, don’t hack away at the ice or frozen mass with chisel, hammer or any other dangerous tool; for the damage done if you hack it away will turn you into a bigger fool

A fool who will do more damage than good, a fool that could throw everything precious away, as you lay new seeds around your feet and take the time to ask for blessings and pray

When you find God, the icicles will disappear – word

 

My head in a Vise


 
 I would never suggest you place your head in a vise and try to imagine the pain I feel is real

Tis too painful to do and experience as you may already know if you have fallen in love with romance and career unless your heart is made of steel

There is no other way to express the pain and frustration than telling you plainly, the truth as it hurts

My head in a vise only expresses my objectified pain and suffering like no other emotion as my words are just a bunch of senseless blurts

The romance was doomed from the moment I met you, standing there in all your beauty and glory

There was no way I could be free and at the same time be with you, it could by no means be a never-ending story

My career skyrocketed as the day was long and the pay was abundantly generous, but knowingly, missing you would make me sad and blue

I couldn’t have asked for a more complex moment to decide which one it was I wanted most

And wouldn’t you know it, the boss said it can’t wait as he wanted me to fly now, way over to the west coast

Knowing I can’t have both and that no matter how hard I attempted or try to hold onto my boo

The most powerful component, gluttony, took over and caused me to choose the job over you

Time did not allow me to make up my mind, the way my heart was telling me to think

And herein lies the problem, for the pain inside me, is knowing I will never see you again

Cause I am being awfully selfish and rather be me, than see you in my plan, not knowing when I could see you again as I close my eyes and blink

In lost time and painful reflection, my changeability and mindset took toll and I was missing you so bad

Every day I was awake, as I woke up to go to work feeling oh so lonely and sad

Shaking my head, talking to myself and saying don’t make any excuses and do not living with any regret

My heart kept aching as it was breaking, as your sweet smile and memory I could never forget

And with every empty moment in time, the voices of us being together come back

So instead of walking with my head in the clouds, my head was in vise

Sometime back, I remember a friend telling me the truth, and giving me advice

She said if you love her, you choose love over greed rather than the desire to succeed

But if your mind is set on making the big time, then it is time for you to move ahead

Sitting here with a splitting headache with a vise clamping down on my head

I should have walked away from greed, I should not have wanted so badly

So here I am, alone in my platinum covered with glass penthouse pad

Knowing it was the wrong message for my heart and my head when looking back at what I have become

And suffering daily with an existing mental concept that I want you back

I am crying out loud now, suffering the consequences of my head tightly twisted and feeling very bad

I try to convince myself it’s all in my head and that I am not really feeling so sad

Ignoring the totality and facts, that I have fallen off my perch up there in my penthouse pad

Making the lushly green colored money and knowing it’s all in my overprized head

I can feel the instability and pain appear again, as a solo tear falls from my eye down my cheek

Thinking how my life has turned into darkness with my broken heart feeling oh so blue and bleak

Working hard on trying to explain this metaphor of my head being inside a vise driving me mad

I toss and turn each night I think of you, as I lay still here in my exaggerated lonely king size bed

But no matter how hard I try or cry to leave your memory or face behind, the vise is still tightly wrapped around my head

 

Monday, April 6, 2015

Putting my Demons Asleep


Putting my Demons Asleep

 

There is more to what you can see or feel, there is more than I can share

For what is within me, does not care for you or me, or whether I sleep or stay awake all day

As long as I feed it the evil it needs, so more evil it can make, it will host my body and stay

I am but a mortal soul, never claiming to be anyone else, especially those who think they were made out of clay

 

Look into my eyes and see the darkness, look into my soul and see it bare all it can bring of  care

There are no brittle bones that hold me together, there are no feelings I can spare

Don’t get to close to me, please don’t waste your time and don’t ask me what I think,

For how I feel, nobody cares and inside my body hides the darkness that evil brings from inside of me, as my heart and mind when free of evil, beg me to see a shrink

 

I can feel a tug of war, deep inside my soul; it feels like demons and angels hard at work

Confusing my head, twisting my thoughts and making my life a clockwork of a guessing game

Seeking out the few who still love me no matter what, and scorn those who fail to see the cause or blame

Of those who hide so deep inside of me, to drive this crazy ride, a ride from hell without a grip of my hands, feeling oh so frail

So tell me how my demons act, please tell me you are not too afraid to talk to me, or listen to my horror story or tale

 

To tell me the truth, and show me some love, as the demons come and go as they please, leaving my heart often broken and feeling shattered and stale.

Just talking about the evil inside me, has turned your skin so wet and pale

The fear in your eyes tells me so much has been taken away, so much has gone astray

If I push you away, it means I care, for the demons inside me make me want to protect you and keep you safe from their deeply entrenched hidden evil power

It’s not at all like it seems as you think I live inside a penthouse up there in the ivory tower,

 

So if I feel weak or strong it really doesn’t mean a thing for real, as it is the demons inside that control the mood to work or when I look like I want to play

When these demons work, they devour the drowning spirit and when at play they give me away, surrendering to other mortals seeking fun and making me miserable and making me pay

Mistreating my heart and soul, and eating my flesh as they tear me apart like a slaughtered prey

Tossing me around like a rag doll and feeding me like a homeless getting a hand out on a plastic tray

 

With demons awake, I cannot not breathe, as they take away from what love I need the most

Leaving me the heartbeat of an undead man and giving me the shell of a manly ghost

So I try to make them sleep, and arrange some kind of peace inside of me, serving them as a rudderless host

As I often admit to fail to manage to make them fall asleep, therefore keeping me awake and cause me more pain, a promise to tell all, I cannot keep

Sending sharp telepathic messages to my head, and shut me down as these electronic waves, short circuit the thoughts inside my brain, making me lose control and say those things that demons say

Whether they are at work or play or dead or alive, as I continue to be their vulnerable prey

Never leaving the darkness, not even close to grey, they stay inside me and cause me to forgo me the ability to pray

 

 

Driving on the Dark side of the Road


 
Well, you should know me by now, there should be no wondering why or cry

No matter how hard we tried, it will never make it right and we will never do it right

I woke up at the crack of dawn, with a rooster crowing in the dark some distance far away

Waiting for me to softly close the backdoor, and never looking back anymore,

I had nothing else to say, and if you look out of your window, I will be gone forever,

Never looking back, just leaving you a note on the kitchen counter,

Telling you gently, I will be moving on and follow those lonely railroad tracks

 

Turning on the car lights, as I glide silently out of the driveway, I shed a solo tear

Slowly, I turned around to see if you are there looking out the window, but nobody is there

Not a light is on in the house, and nobody cares as I glance once more in the rearview mirror

And as I put my head down in despair, I gaze up to the stars up in the sky, breathing the cold dry morning air, thinking again of hiding from the light

 

I wondered why we always changed our minds, I wondered why we could never see the light

If we don’t know by now babe, we will never know why, I drive on the dark side of the road

I wish there was something I could say, I wish you would call out my name but it is never the same

But I also wish you knew what I was thinking, and that it’s not at all what you make it out to be

You just want us to be lovers, you want us to pretend it’s all bright and light

But I just want to be free and stay away from the fright of seeing the light

 

But the truth be told, we never did talk too much, and we never did see the light

As you tried to change me, I offered to stay but you pushed me away, as we often fight

You didn’t like what I was thinking, so it could never be the same as we never shared the road

The light I never knew, living on the dark side of the road, was what set me free

It aint no use pretending babe, even as you turn on your light to make it bright, it could never be, the same for you and me

There is nothing you can say that makes it right, there is nothing you can do to make it bright

So pretending seems just like a waste of precious time, a time that has been so unkind

And as I drive off into the darkness, I hear you calling my name, but it’s just the same

As we never did talk too much anyways, we never got used to calling each other names and giving ourselves a chance to be one of the same

 

Where I am bound, it has no name, where I end up is all the same

I could have done better, I could have done it right, but then I would have left the dark and come into the light

From the dark end of the road, never wandering into the bright, I felt secured and tight

We never learned to share the load, we never knew what it was like to live in the light

It seems it was the life I was born with, it seems that I was always denied the light, but regardless how it ended, I always seemed to drive off in the middle of the night

 

But driving on the dark side of the road, allowed me a chance to learn and keep my heart light  

There was less fear of doing it right, and get away from this life I was born with, as time passed so quickly avoiding the light

And my love disappeared within the twinkling of an eye, let’s just enjoy it before we say goodbye, as it was never meant to be to stand out in the light

 

From the dark end of the road I can see much better, I can never do wrong, just get it right

From the bright side of the road, the future is not so bright or kind to me, so it seems a fright

And if I can’t find someone to share a song with, then let me by content and drive all night on the darker side of the road,

Where time stands still, and the moon is bright, leaving me alone again, but with the memory of our last time making love in the middle of the night