The Drone, Short story I came up with

Quote :

Fly little bee, fly.
Fly high up in the skies, free as a bird.
Feel no pain, no sorrow, no love.
Sure you can fly,
But are you really free?
Mindless drone, imprisoned in your exoskeleton.
Not even death,
Can save your tiny soul.

It represents how insects have to live their lives.
Seriously, Imagine living with no emotions, forced to do what your brain has programmed you to do, until you die. You'd just be like some kind of robot.

Or maybe it represents something more deep, more dark. Slavery? Child Abuse?

Well, as for insects. They don't know any better, so yeah. They're happy. They like the way they are, because they know no better. They can't think past that. Especially Bees. They're born to work for the queen, it's all they know.

So, they are happy, in a sense.

But, Child Abuse, and Slavery is a whole different story. But It's a nice little story, by the way. It's almost cute, in some eeriy way.

Zaku350 wrote:

Well, as for insects. They don't know any better, so yeah. They're happy. They like the way they are, because they know no better. They can't think past that. Especially Bees. They're born to work for the queen, it's all they know.

So, they are happy, in a sense.

But, Child Abuse, and Slavery is a whole different story. But It's a nice little story, by the way. It's almost cute, in some eeriy way.

It does have a meaning, though
I can't really figure it out..

Somewhat haunting.

It's very well written.

Certainly is haunting, it reminds me of one of those messages you pick up in a horror game that gives you insight into the mind of a now-mutated freakish monster who infact used to be a little girl...

Srry, just got off RE.

Quote :

Fly little bee, fly.
Fly high up in the skies, free as a bird.
Feel no pain, no sorrow, no love.
Sure you can fly,
But are you really free?
Mindless drone, imprisoned in your exoskeleton.
Not even death,
Can save your tiny soul.
But you experience happy.
Of godly proportions.
Are you really imprisoned?
Or just willing to be?
Encased in your exoskeleton you serve.
A cause, greater than you.
Live now, and live long.
And sip of thee-
Sweet nectar of happy.

I finally know what it means now
Desperately trying to fit in with other people, even abandoning who you really are, just to make friends that probably don't even really care about you

Hmh? SInce when do bees try to fit in? They are born, raised, and destined to serve their mother. The queen.

They don't know of anything else. And they're happy in their little existance.

It's like people with mental illnesses that live in their own little world. You shouldn't feel sorry for them. Because they only know their little corner, and they have painted it in a colour they want, and decorated it with what they want. They're happy with it. And that's all that matters in the end. Not always having the same experience as others. But enjoying what you actually do have.

Mack wrote:

Hmh? SInce when do bees try to fit in? They are born, raised, and destined to serve their mother. The queen.

They don't know of anything else. And they're happy in their little existance.

It's like people with mental illnesses that live in their own little world. You shouldn't feel sorry for them. Because they only know their little corner, and they have painted it in a colour they want, and decorated it with what they want. They're happy with it. And that's all that matters in the end. Not always having the same experience as others. But enjoying what you actually do have.

No, it's not literal. It's not actually about bees. :V
It's something.. not beeish

Well. What I can gather from the poem itself, you're basically saying,

"Sure, you can fly. But you are not free. And you never will be."

I can't see any resemblence at all with attempting to fit in.

Mack wrote:

Well. What I can gather from the poem itself, you're basically saying,

"Sure, you can fly. But you are not free. And you never will be."

I can't see any resemblence at all with attempting to fit in.

Uhhhhhhhno, It means something different
I don't know anymore, you piece it together

How can you make a poem and not know what it's about is what I wonder

Pat wrote:

How can you make a poem and not know what it's about is what I wonder

I DON'T KNOW

Pat wrote:

How can you make a poem and not know what it's about is what I wonder

Same way you can be born and not know what your face looks like, you haven't tried hard enough to see.

A poem is venting out what your thinking-- In this case, Narran was thinking something along the lines of bees.
Real poetry, when it is done, has a hidden meaning, that even the creator doesn't know. This is what makes poetry interesting, in a way boooks and movies aren't.

Doesn't have any inherent inner meaning save what you perceive it to be, if she didn't have a planned underlying meaning.

Pat wrote:

Doesn't have any inherent inner meaning save what you perceive it to be, if she didn't have a planned underlying meaning.

Impressionist art, poetry is.