Lyrics
Hands Held High
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Analysis
The rhyme scheme of the poem follows the general pattern of AABBCCDD but varies in certain places. Mike Shinoda proves though this song that he is very serious about his topic and really pushes his theme by using an extremely passionate and powerful tone. The theme of the poem is that war and poverty are serious issues that political leaders seem to be taking and dealing with lightly. This may be because they aren’t directly affected by the problems as they have all the money and security they need. We as a people need to step in and stand up for what we believe. I was able to develop this theme because of the references to him living in poverty, and because of his very strong and graphic language about the war in the poem. This theme is well reinforced by many poetic devices including metaphors, repetition, hyperbole and onomatopoeia.
A few examples of metaphors that were found in the poem are found in the fourth stanza. There are three metaphorical references in this stanza. In this stanza the speaker reads, “Healing the blind I promise to let the sun in / Sick of the dark ways we march to the drum” (7-8). There are several effective uses of metaphors in this sentence. One metaphor is the comparison of being blind and not knowing what is happening around the world. This relates to the theme as it shows how the world can be unaware of what is happening around the world and may not step up because they do not know. Another metaphor is “letting the sun in” (7) which refers to opening the eyes of the blind and letting them know the facts which may influence people stand up and fight. The third metaphor found in this stanza is “we march to the drum” (8). This is comparing the way that everyone lives, for the same goals just listening to what the government says to do and what to live for. This relates to the theme because it shows how people do not stand up for themselves and just listen to the government. There is repetition found in both the twelfth and twenty-third stanzas. In both of these stanzas is repeats the lines, “Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay, and the rest of the world watching at the end of the day” (22-23). This helps to emphasize the theme because repetition can help the phrase to come across strongly and to drive home whatever point the author is trying to get across. “The rest of the world watching” (46) is found in the twenty-third stanza, and is an example of a Hyperbole. This is an overstatement because although many people watched the news, the whole entire world wasn’t watching. This is effective and relates to the theme though because the overstatement can make it seem like this issue effects a lot more people than it really does and might cause someone to take action. Certain word choices that Mike Shinoda uses in this poem are examples of Onomatopoeia. Words like stuttering and mumbling when said aloud sound like what the words mean. This helps to strengthen the thesis because it helps the reader to envision the leader physically tripping over his own word trying to explain and give excuses to what’s happening. This poem is very aggressively written towards the political leaders and the way that they don’t do anything about very important issues. It makes a very strong point about standing up for what’s right. This is reinforced by several examples of Metaphors, repetition, hyperbole, and onomatopoeia. |
Poem RelatedI scrawl these visions
in the light of exploding shells and the grey sleep of a million corpses, making my pencil the last witness to the moments between life and death. Truth shall guide my trembling hand across a blank canvass that will inherit this day’s memory of pain. A transformation in the dark colours of suffering that echoes the sounds of war to a respectable audience, taking their morning tea in England. The epitaph of a race captured in a wooden pencil sharing the blood of mankind in another holy grail. Come drink this sweet wine of youth for it will never empty. My pencil denied by the colours of life creates glory on a foreign field. The sons of mothers pose in deaths final picture, frozen for winter to play. Till the heat of summer takes them away on blue bottle wings to heaven. A rotten imprint to torment the living. They were once human as I remember who came with wit and clean socks seeking the approval of father. All were looking for a road to be a man but the road was a trench, whose veins pulsated with the blood of the dead giving birth to the shadows of tomorrow. Shadows, shadows all is shadows the pencil can tell no lies. Life turned into spectres and flies haunting the conscience of mankind. We are no longer human beings war in the trenches dulls the meaning of life. Death is but a serial number and a victory for tomorrow’s paper. Life wasted in Judas visions for all to see. And I who live in fear cannot see the lines of humanity anymore. Only images seeded in a fractured brain whose portfolio burns in the corpse that was once my soul. This pencil has done its duty The reaper can take these eyes, eyes that see the shadows dancing in the flickering flames of war. A light that bears witness to my last heart beat in the scribbles of a dying man. My destiny foretold in my work to spend eternity in the darkness that surrounds the stars, with a pencil that can draw no light. Pass gently dear comrades from this earth, time is the watch which knows no end. Only the blind and the dead will hear the last tick of this illusion. For silence is the secret of the earth everything dies, everything dies. |