The recent one makes me think of someone who really likes attention but might act like he doesn't -- even though the very first line begins with "I like an audience". Well no shit. I don't know if this a personal piece or not. There was a repeating theme of "fuck it/whatever". This also reminded me of assemblies at school.
Yea, I was trying to make the narrator as someone who wants it, but does not come across that way. A cool guy I guess. I think the fuck its and whatevers helped, maybe. I'm happy you said that. thank you. This was not a personal experience.
To the first poem: I really like what you've done here. I have one small complaint, and that is this line "My mind was now a radar station" sounds out of place. It sounds more casual and quirky than the rest of the piece. The poem painted an image very clearly of The Gardens of Stone, and even before I reached the image at the bottom, I had a similar one in my mind. It gave me serious reflection and consideration for all the blood spilled for and by this nation, but didn't come off as too damning or emotionally bent one way or the other. I will definitely have to read more of these another time. (And if there are any specific ones you want comment on, do tell)
Thanks Duck. I would like you to comment on the FEAR piece. It sits directly below the first one. Pay special attention to the last stanza. I love it. Thanks, and let me know what I can do for you.
wow rambleON... your words and their rhythms literally sculpt my senses... it's like you take the blind readers hand and lead them though a descriptive journey... the rhythms are unusual in that they make you feel as if one is slightly uncertain of ones footing... or is that just me? i don't have anything negative to say about any of them... nice writing
I'm not at all happy with this one. Rip it apart. It was for competition and thank god my opponent no-showed. It's under developed in my opinion. _____ This is where I stand, a Genius, a black hole In a Forest, a photo image, and I was front row Black and white blotched my souls epicenter And so it goes, leaving no holes to remember And that's what it is, no grey, no color No clichés, nor green shoots coming together Amongst a Forest, planted in a time forgotten In some shade of Nostalgia, brisk, hollow, rotten Amongst Aged trees- skinny twisted little sisters Unbelievably skittish with their devilish whiskers I stand. I withstood. Bare and demanding In this Ever-Wood And under my shoes, a river ran, glittered Wedged in and fiddled, frantic and fevered A black road, an Auto Way of introspections A sway of Rococo Flats, dealing out life's lessons I simply am, so dew collected, damping two eyes Masking fear, hiding it, so it was OK to cry And I did, tearing salted apathy, whisking away Flushing out toxicity, tar, and with it, energy What was left was the Past of Present peace And a Present of one Future setting True East Just me and the Road, unceasing to say the least On it went, down the bend, and down more It's end was my beginning, rising with storms I am, so my blood was Red, and my intent Clear Not in a dream, no, an Event Horizon, drawing near I saw in the setting sun; everything about me It was fleeing, unplugging to excite another corner In another place, smothering over a New World Order With it went my flaws, ambitions and glaring cares Replaced by perfection declared by fear and flairs It's aura of isotopes flickered out, and since fell back In its absence a Shadow grows, and sick stars react On the other side of the world, upside down, no difference The Sun rose to routine, holding up its coexistence Soon, a nature hardly appreciated appeared A great depression loomed by eerie years She is dark and deary and weeps in tears She knew I was naked and needed a moonlight bath Cold and pale, washing away my Sun burnt wrath Now that she had me she said I was Genius That being a Sun kid seemed to be so meaningless Her depressive nature was a key to my lock Key to reflecting and application to all ticking clocks I then accepted my dismal existence Happy to posses the tools of creation And I painted with the brush strokes Every little piece and fragment of life So that even in my despair and darkness A moment of pure light could be seen And that never again will the ebb and flow Of natures biology dictate the recess of my mind
The bars around me are cold, formidable and all knowing The stable foundations holding us back from ever growing I've been locked away for thirty years now, sentenced Fenced in by the cement of societies righteous acceptance Since birth I've been lied to, brain washed by subtle waves Positioned to be profitable by bosses enslaving us to behave I walk the streets fully awoken, aware of the limitations set Nothing is honest, except in situations where money is bet And I feel the traps and snares awaiting, around each corner The corporate mind control teaching our kids leaching disorders I hear the lies and propaganda globally changing our advantage The agenda to own and control us like sheep to be mismanaged I exist in a cage suspended over a ocean of sublime submission It's intention is to drain us, blinding us fools like fine tacticians I walked to the edge of the cage, to the end of this illusion I grabbed the bars and pledged my rage at this institution Told it that a revolution is fostering and how it will judge How it will sever and loosen heads of tyrants, spilling blood I told it that in dreams I was Executive and Legislative branch Swearing fluently I said 'NOTHING GIVES in a creative stance I dreamed a lot and in them I invented revenge and planned Visited with Great Plains Indians, relented a freedom demand In one dream I sat with two Indian chiefs getting high We smoked herb and one was pointing at a setting sky Sitting on our knees we looked up at the constellations Blew smoke rings if only to lessen the constant citations I saw the infallible prisms of dyes coloring our universe Exciting the sphere of our prospective together in bursts The other chief said they were the trillion points of deception And mentioned uneasily that it was the nights sky's future projections Then the Stars awoke and aligned over our Star lit prairie Started to waltz, marching above as one Scarlet army I saw in them a million images born of Indian Legacies A long line of tears spinning the cry of ten Wounded Knees I saw the Great Plains bloom near pristine flower patches Reds, Yellows and Purples soaking up fifteen Rain Dances The Stars showed a Hero of myths from another place A Bow and Arrow mixed together in fists, tethered by lace He was dancing with ten Red feathers in his hair Behind him a Nation came together, accented by flairs They chanted unity and peace, alone in pure liberty Drumming in the spirit of the Great Owl's own majesty In another dream I was one of the Indian Chiefs I remember seeing a boy trapped by Societal disease He was stressed, and needed a release from it's walls I smoked him out and showed him pleasing drum calls He boomed and bloomed under the peace of his flight Danced to the logical show of Night Star's easing sprites I told him about the Ebb and Flow of humanities Greed Showed him the rise and fall of standing truly, being freed I knew he was a future hero in a time of great defiant need Bow and Arrow in hand ready and compliant with Liberties seed He placed his crown of ten Red feathers on, his spirit rising Wore it with a sense of togetherness, flying high to be seen ** I awoke with an Indians pride and a slaves shame With a wisdom to know all Empires fall burning in flames I took refuge knowing this abstract system would break That soon People would unite, and in them all was at stake It may not be now but latter we would all be native again Living under the humid bounty of natures ways as men Against the back drop of city lights and gritty noise I slid my head dress of ten feathers on and looked coolly poised I reached two arms up at the distant burning of the stars I echoed the voices of humanity past, yearning with little scars In a different tongue I bellowed in the soft cry of the Storming Falcon And a ripple of dew collected, raining down thick hopes of redemption And for one moment the world stood silent And a shock wave of ripples sent out a currier Between oppression, promises and rapture it went And what came back was absolute serenity Of the one comfort in the upcoming Indian Legacy And that night the Stars stood brothers, proud For those who could see it, they predicted Violence and struggle washed in all pursuits of revolution
I have nothing but love for this piece. It is one of the most masterful pieces I have read on the subject, though I have written about it many times. The formatting of the ending stanza is marvelous, it really gives it a different sense of narration, like the ending voice-over of a movie (say Trainspotting) The part about the medicinal properties of karma and 'euphoric from the punishment' could be confusing, or seem incomplete, but the ending explains it perfectly. I like that, it acts as a hook, a bit. The wording was beautiful in lines such as "Lacerations etched a maze of blisters on my sunlit body". Giving really powerful emotion, and though the tone and flow varied at parts, it remained consistent. The lines: "I saw the distant churning and turning of clumsy vultures circling and swerving " remind me very specifically of E.A. Poe poems such as The Raven and The Bells There were some awkward lines: "I felt un-proportionally top heavy and thought " "shampooed and conditioned into soft raw material" But I don't think they necessarily require attention, due to the overall merit of the poem and how they fit in, despite being rather strange (in my mind at least) My favorite part was the stanza on childhood/young thinking. Being a sufferer of anxiety; that contrast does seem to be one of my biggest struggles, and you've worded it better than I probably ever could have.
damn, duck, thanks for the love. I was listening to Stair Way to Heaven when I was reading your feedback...The second development of the songs middle pacing was playing (the song has slow, middle and fast pace) and I got goose bumps like mad. pace This piece came together quite by accident. I was writing my thoughts down in a flow of nonsense. I had a huge body of words, paragraphs. I selected what I liked from that body and made one narration. Then I took that narration and made it rhyme. The whole piece is supposed to have a strong narration. When drafting this, I had that voice in my had the whole time and the ending stanza especially. what stanza was the childhood/young ? We all interpret things differently, and I have no idea what one you were talking about.
Started this well, now Im very tired so Im gong to bed. In otherwords, this is a work in progress. ---- The right fist I use writes left with a straight hook. Write that right down, clefted between that big-little book. Trip that pen into sticky ink wells of Peppermint venom. Spill the forgotten Secret of Legions, dusted by his memorandum. Then illustrate the twilight years beholding the Kingdom of Zion. And woe to those wicked few who barter on the den we lie on. And Woe! To the tuning of the Morning Star raining roars like a Lion ! Woe ! The right fist I write with links directly to this true supremacy. Write that right now, suppressed down by our all seeing enemy. Hail to the victors enlisted by the Holy Spirit to illumine the prudent. Hail to brothers and sisters exposing Deception's symmetrical congruence. In the name of Jesus Christ I fill my lungs with the Majesty of Kingdom. And below with astonishing amplitude his love for us all.
I meant this stanza: "I reached one arm up and held on for another first day When the world felt correct and so thirsty someway Or any other conviction of universal truth So orderly and prescribed and very vital to my own deception"
Wake Up Spirits ! I want to be happy so I smile more, even if to fake it Face a mirror for support but its stare back is vacant I count the positives and weigh them hard on this life Each time, the same total reflects the same thin ice This time is no different, only that I know the dangers Know that lies are hate, stated by most our neighbors I know love is being buried by the wickedness of Man Just below the surface of our senses, planted by plan I know rain and nature nurture the seeds of the Illuminati Into a matrix, sprouting poisons around our collective body Today, many are deceived into colorless dreams of shame Set by the low-living, all seeing enemy of too many names I call it small planning, tamed visions and dwarfed goals Required by promotions, position, seen in popularity roles I take another look in the mirror, and see my face is set The die has been cast, I have stepped over the line against The deceptions of truth encouraging our own self destruction Against a need for reward and praise built on false constructions I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised or regarded I now walk by patience, labor by the power of faith I have started In this, I see the fallacies of man and I scream in righteousness Point out falsehoods and half truths making Right just my business I see ten thousand agendas pixilate as one big stage production Fixated on TV, pulling humanity with voices of aged seduction I see five media outlets contort and bend the pipes of knowledge Only to rework the boundaries of reality, pluming us away in bondage I hear the degeneration of family units onto planned ghetto streets Bumping down paths of Lady Gaga, desensitized by shallow beats I shout in anger at the condition of our bleeding choice of hearts How empty and hallow they are, harpooned by poison darts... I cry and raise my hands up above into the clouds, to Lord Jesus ! Each tear wishing ten Angles would descend his Holiness upon us I drop to my knees and offer every last vestige of common sense Praying, hoping in some way my sacrifice be heard on THIS pretense... That I won't give up, shut up, let up until I have talked up a price ! Until I have stored up, paid up and talked up for the cause of Christ ! My walk is fast and my mission is clear, I can not be bought Or compromised, detoured or lured away with any other thoughts I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate over an adversary Nor will I negotiate at the table of enemies, or act unnecessary... And when he comes for his own He will have no problem recognizing me My banner will be clear
Important Note Dear Recipient of this Letter, Last night, three surgeons quietly entered your residence Two had needles and certainly medicated your remembrance One furnished a scalpel, his eyes were bleeding black ink Together they will defile you, sight unseen this week This note will inform you of your current predicament Don't stay inside for its duration, read on to learn of it A national emergency is in effect, total Marshall Law A medical order to eradicate dissent, cut from a doctors saw You have been identified as a threat, an aggressor An instigator-activist sent by truth, silenced by scissors Wake up. Because your daughter will not; taped as cannon fodder Internal-radiated and the first to be murdered, devoured Because your son was forced to assist, whisked from the nest Then hung from the course of his neck in his sisters dress Your wife has been shot, but not before she fought back With a sharp pen she resisted with a stab that bled black They are all stuffed in the garbage can, in bits at best Forget about them and remember this is real, sick but a test Under your bed is a gun, a mirror and a single pill Swallow the capsule then feel around for the windowsill Take the mirror, steady a signal off the Westward sun The opposition is ready, awaiting a sign since this all begun Jump from your captivity now, or a doctored disease will be coming Meet the resistance somehow with cunning or cease to be nothing When you arrive give the gun to Edward. The man He will decide your worth or shoot you, understand Say to him, "Synaguage Alpha" to pass the sentries Then it's on or else a failure of freedom eventually By then you should be feeling the dope meant to numb And will have no problems accepting that hope is all but done Edward will tell you the city streets are a problematic prism The army is to kill off the silent majority against the system You must be completely plugged in and chipped to live One bank, one religion with government clipped to give Sooner than later, you'll be born a slave without will It's like that now, but it's in a SHADE most find a thrill The difference is that today: Distractions like Dancing with the Stars is over, done And Pepsi is out of stock, or no more Hollywood scum No more predictive programming by social engineers Or the fabricated life away from reality inching near The masses are taking notice, no more whimsical fluff But for now, it's you, Edward and a small tactical bluff To head up an Army of soldiers chipping the herd To kill as many as possible to sustain the spoken word: Your family is dead. They want you. You must act. Sincerely, Anonymous
I really like Important Note. The story was done in a really original and interesting way, and delivered the messages well. I just have one question, what's the significance of the password? I would've used the opportunity to cause non-apologetic impact; it may even be better your way, but I'm digressing, and just wondering if "Synaguage Alpha" meant anything =P
A synagogue is a Church (not Christian ...yet for high priest and their pagan beliefs at that time in Roman times), as I understand it. Alpha is a kick back to our Lord as being the Alpha and Omega (the first and the last, the way and the truth). It is only of secondary importance to the story and really doesn't move it. I think you are right duck, but I could not resist. I just wrote this from the time stamp of my Important Note post until now. Let me know.... --- Out Through the In Door Digging up your roots you say. Going back. At last. So you dig. Dig for justification. Dig for validation, understanding. Digging to fill new wholes With old dirt. Digging for truth. As fast as the shovel pivots As fast as you can bear the exposure Of how things really happened Not how you interpret them now But rather, of a downward momentum Not just of the shovel, but of life's pull Though both are striking the same plate With an insatiable appetite to satisfy the urge To know the absolute dexterity of truth. You dig. You and shovel. Except the shovel is sure of itself It will spark as it clanks against time Conversely, you will collide and fold in Coil up as a double helix of what once was Wrapping around the past with a sure complexity And in the process a partnership is solidified A cooperation forging a link to the past Of steel networking its desire to function correctly You of your questioning, explanations and motivations As an organic body exercising it's right to inquire. You discover quickly that what you dug up Is easily arranged against what you thought and what is,... was, is really not once was But only an image of what you wanted it to be You pick up the past and uncoil this information You soon realize new uses of old trauma bases Realize rungs of dead end roads, of bad choices More insightful now than ever you point this up Into the sky and climb on the burden of your new way forward.
you got a lot a poems in here ramble.i'll check them all out after work tomorrow.i lov your leopard pic.its class!
I dunno if I like the latest one here. There are some lines that I really enjoy: "Digging to fill new wholes With old dirt." "To know the absolute dexterity of truth." "Except the shovel is sure of itself It will spark as it clanks against time Conversely, you will collide and fold in Coil up as a double helix of what once was Wrapping around the past with a sure complexity" But it feels as if the points are a little repetitive and it just feels kinda fat. I've heard other poems on similar topics that were much more concise. I'm kind've at odds with myself because I really like the imagery and the wording, but at the same time it seems like they could be weighing this piece down.
