Hollow Men Explication

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Hollow Men Explication We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men" Empty and full. Considering the speaker of this fraternity of contradictions is a singular being (it can be a human, or even a rock) representing the many of its kind, it resembles the likes of a scarecrow or perhaps a mannequin along the lines of those seen on CNN representing a Bush with a monstrously big nose put on flames. A scare crow with straw. Stuffed to the brims. A substance lacking substantiality. The straw is the substance, but each individual straw is hollow, light, one nuance of color yet together they make a purpose one of either being a mockery of what the U.N. puts in its record books of the only super power in the beginning of the 21st century or scaring crows away. There is a purpose amongst hollow grounds, a purpose for the straw to be compacted together. And alas, that purpose is accomplished when a "we" is achieved not an "I." "Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!" This reconfirms my suspicions of flitting together to achieve a statute of social approval, of a status that determines the purpose to be one of those flirting with the positive. And all they have to do is lean their heads, even the heads that are full of straw, in a virtually neuron encapsulated skull. Lean over, and take a toast to their drinks a mere tink of the tumblers even scotch couldn't have a more satisfying "alas" signaling a finality of finite relief. "Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats' feet over broken glass In our dry cellar" Hollow voices, minus the dew of moisture. Yet this phrase is a complete antithesis of my hastily drawn theory within the time frame of how long my eye lids can venture off as those determined jackasses to avoid flitting down (yes Mr. Little, my very own testament of 2 o' clock wanderings into "Hallow Men" turn over some hollow stones themselves, but I'm not complaining, enjoy). Quite literally, as I'm taking this metaphor minus the allusions I strongly suspect this poem to have (perhaps even borrowed???), convening among themselves produces no rate of success, for the meeting bears no vital result. But whom is to claim that it is a vital result which implies a success, is what out scarecrow is trying to vouch after? Elliot brushes out a downcast mood on canvas, seemingly a sketch of shadows as a precursor to more feet sliding across shards of glass. As for the result of a conference, it can also point to the non-existence of

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