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Writing by TwilightPoetess

poems inspiring me to write my own by cristinewakesuphappy

Poetry by QuiEstInLiteris

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Submitted on
May 4, 2012
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3.9 KB


988 (1 today)
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The world we live in is a distorted projection,
And this moment, naught but a polaroid dream:
Fires dancing at the edges and ink collapsing upon itself.

These streets have melted into bad acid lust visions,
Abandoned shopping cart homes, deep inner-city arm infections,
            And other various tripping hazards.

            Resolved, we residentially meander along,
Keep our heads firmly fixed to glass floors shattering florescent and
The crunching of our boots gracing the bent forms of those beneath,
Finger-painting cragged gravel surfaces opaque with their pupils
            And filling the potholes with Sisyphean shortcomings.

                        Hammer-handed, delusional, needle-minded, and insecure,
We turn our heads towards the sun and bleach the pale expanse of our sight
            As we construct these hyperboreal steel escapes ever higher,
High enough to puncture the heavens, for we know that perfection
Does not lie naked and pallid beside us under thousand count satin blankets
            Lashing at morning's anemic figure with languid nine-tail eyes,
Punishment for violating her restraining order and for crossing closed borders:
Those heavy curtains bought for the sole purpose of keeping strangers out
                        Lay rolled aside and unguarded in the storm of light,
And our clothes lay scattered around the altar, cast off and discarded for the next life.

            'Perfection,' the dawn mused, 'perfection lies in the unreachable.'

We stretch out the length of our bonds like aroused house cats,
            Rattle the foundation till we loosen the bolts just enough
                                    To overextend ourselves,
            Rub elevator gears with Vaseline and arrange what's left of the dust
                        Energetically and meticulously into perfectly straight lines,
Blow everything so high that even the steel buildings get nosebleeds;
            So damn high that we pierce the heavens and rain the whole sky dry;
Then restart, humidify, and breathe deep the dreams of a narcotic sleep.

Our skin arid and cracking with the toll of dry conversations held over
Three course dinners beneath mirrored ceilings polished to focal points;
            On top of endless dunes of wasted days and wasted praise
            And of meaningless three ways sprawling on the beaches
Where no one sleeps and no one wakes and nothing you do ever matters.

I removed a pack of gold, hotel-crest trimmed crimson, from my match collection
And a footstool to grab a white shine jar of light from the shelf of my shed,
            Lit sticks of incense and watched the air smolder, warp, and burn;
            Held the match stick till it branded my thumbprint with glass.
Put a scent to darkness and am forever marked by my awareness.

Every message conceals claustrophobic spirals trying to escape,
            An imprint, a unique tattoo we accept unto our being;
            Roll the heads down the stairs and hold our daggers high,
We are nothing but a single instant of this world, a distorted projection
                        Of everything and everyone we never loved.

                                    Woe, the forgotten man
                        Remembered only for being forgotten,
A pure, untainted, lobotomized canvas decorated with spoiled milk.
Preach to the tired, the poor, the huddled and the yearning, 'Cast aside
            Demons, my friend! Cast aside all spiritual rubbish!
Overturn the lottery ticket wheelbarrows and drain pensions wasted
                        In whiskey shots and The American Dream!'

Because we can.
i dream of a world that does not exist.
i write about a world that does.
i am because i think i am.
i dream because i'm not.

Any feedback is graciously appreciated.
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Oh, talk free verse to me, Alain. ;)

You have such a wonderful gift for overloading on imagery without it feeling like a sensory overload. Would you be willing to critique MY submission to #lacoterie's contest ([link])? Gosh, this prompt was SUCH FUN, wasn't it?

I think my favorite image is of hyperbolic buildings :) Somehow it just seems to pierce the sky better than normal skyscrapers. Also, before I get into a nit-picky look at the piece, I HAVE to ask...little bitty bit of a William Carlos Williams reference there at the end? A wheelbarrow that needs to be drained of water + American Dream somehow = "The Red Wheelbarrow" to me. And I just LOOOOOOOOVE allusions ;)

Anyway,before I begin with my critique I must ask for ONE MORE FAVOR. My poem's title: HELP ME WITH IT. I just love the way you've titled this piece. You've got a hyperbola in there, but the "borean" half of it makes me think of the Aurora Borealis and the Arctic Tundra, and so it feels so....chilling. LOVE IT.

I think this piece could perhaps use JUST A BIT of pruning. For example, your imagery is SO VIVID in most of this piece, so I think the first line should start off as strongly as everywhere else. Maybe shift to, "The world we live in is but a polaroid dream," or perhaps a "distorted polaroid dream," or something to that effect? I absolutely luuuuuuuv the second stanza, the "deep inner-city arm infections" that hints at a deeper problem, "and other various tripping hazards," haha.

Another place that I think could use just a little bit of trimming and/or clarification is the third stanza: "Finger-painting cragged gravel surfaces opaque with their pupils/ And filling the potholes with Sisyphean shortcomings." I'm not sure what kind of pupils we're talking about here. The little kindergarden kind who would be finger painting, or the kind that become opaque with cataracts? Or am I supposed to wonder that. If such is the case, you are TRULY genius. I feel like there are a few too many descriptive words in a row here. I know it would mess with the line lengths a bit, but I feel like just putting a line break between "surfaces" and "opaque" would just help space out all those descriptions a tad. Or maybe add a bitty word or punctuation, just to break it up a bit?

I just CANNOT GET ENOUGH of your fourth stanza. This one is definitely a bit of a run-on, but I think you've used formatting and line breaks well enough to group phrases together in the reader's mind. I could spend hours analyzing this stanza. luuuuuuuuuuuu it. I ALMOST want a Tower of Babel reference in there somewhere, but I'm not entirely convinced it isn't there already....need more time.....

"We stretch out the length of our bonds like aroused house cats..." WHERE DO YOU GET THIS STUFF? I was feeling so good about my phallic imagery in my poem, and then you pull this out? Damn, way to make me feel inadequate. And then you manage to transform skyscrapers into lines of cocaine. Damn, dude, I really need to listen to some of your songs or something.

Stanza seven is a bit challenging, as well. I feel like I was kind of in high, spiky places for the previous stanza and then I'm dragged down to earth again. I'm not entirely sure how this stanza fits in, either. I think the next stanza works better, definitely brings the piece back down to earth and circles around to the beginning again nicely. I do feel like you need a hyphen somewhere in the phrase "hotel crest trimmed crimson," but I'm not sure about that.

For the second-to-last stanza: again, I'm not entirely sure where it fits into the overall theme of the piece. Hmmm. Perhaps I need to meditate upon it some more.

Now, to address your critique question: "This ending, does it work?" Everything from "Woe" to "the American Dream," yes. It has just a hint of Ginsberg, but in a good way. It feels a touch like an advertisement, which fits very well and I think flows well with the rest of the piece. "Because we can." Hmmmmmmmmmm. I'm not sure it merits an entire stanza unto itself. However, I definitely feel like that last full stanza needs a LITTLE something to wrap it up. I'm afraid I can't help you there, 'cuz I don't know how to do it myself.

Overall, though, this is a really strong piece. Well done, my friend, well done :)
What do you think?
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Bethebelle13 Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
You need to be NOW!!
ozzla Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2012   Writer
I really don't believe how in the first second you punch us in the face and woo us into becoming addicted to your art. That first line is absolute brilliance and from there it only gets better, hence getting addicted :D

Now I'm just going to list out phrases that just sung to me:
:bulletgreen: "polaroid dream"
:bulletgreen: "fires dancing at the edges"
:bulletgreen: "melted into bad acid lust visions"

Now for the analysis of the lines that I can actually find some specific words to describe:
:bulletgreen: "shattering fluorescent": it's such a clear, surreal image of light against pavement that comes to mind. Such sharp, broken, piercing swirls of light.
:bulletgreen: "puncture the heavens": as if the sky is a yolk that you're sucking dry. Now that really is hubris.
:bulletgreen: "watched the air smolder, warp, and burn": it's that from how you see it, it's the air that burns, not the flame.
:bulletgreen: "A pure, untainted, lobotomized canvas decorated with spoiled milk": the whole line is just magic, but the juxtaposition of "untainted" and "lobotomized" is subtle at first, then when you look at it harder it really jolts you in your seat. It's such odd wording you've used that makes my stomach churn with concern, especially coupled with the smell, taste and feel of "spoiled milk". It's just so strong in its image of ruin and decay.

Now here's just a little transcription error you've made Captain America =P: 'perfection lies in the in the unreachable.'

And in no way does that detract from your work, as what really impresses me with your pieces is not only your expression, but the intent that goes into them. Normally long lines of verse, the changing of the justification of the stanzas and even that the form of the last one is different from the rest annoy me, but I just really don't care when it comes to your pieces. It just flows so well that you could finish halfway through a sentence and I wouldn't notice.

At that, I would have to say that although the last line doesn't annoy me, it just seems like swear words amongst a high register. And like I'm having withdrawals. I feel like "but what can I do, please tell me what I can do!!" because you can get so drawn into your pieces.

My best advice is to remove that last line and to end at "A pure, untainted, lobotomized canvas decorated with spoiled milk", though with several more lines than are currently before it to try and bring a conclusive tone to it perhaps? I feel though that there is more to this than I'm getting, thus cannot really advise you on how to end it. Specifically, I don't get the reference you're making between the piece and the title :dummy:
Carmalain7 Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2012
So this has been in my inbox for at least two and a half forevers and, despite that lapse in time being more oft than not put to formulating some sort of reply, i still do not have a coherent statement that would adequately express my gratitude over all that you have said. i have, however, applied your wonderful observance in the 'perfection lies...' line, and am so elated you caught that as i literally cannot tell you how often i overlook those things in spite of how many drafts i usually create of my writings.

Now, as both an explanation for understanding as well as an insight to my written progress (or, at least with this piece that is) the ending has a lot of very distinctly American culture and symbolic ties into it. For example, those being 'preached' to are the groups that America embraces as listed on the base of The Statue of Liberty - which subsequently is also the place where the greatest number of immigrants came to America. So, in summation, it is essentially social commentary.

As far as the link between the piece and the title goes, that's a much more complicated thing to explain. i think Azi probably puts the primary connections best in her critique of the piece - if you don't mind me steering you that way and don't view it overly much as a cop-out on my part. =p
If anything it at least gets the wheels turning.

All this said, you're incredibly amazing and i cannot thank you enough for the support and kind words; it truly means an indescribable amount to me, good miss. Thank you.
ozzla Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2012   Writer
And yet you don't realise how poetic and heartfelt your supposed lack of coherence is :D

All of us will make simple grammatical mistakes because we can dedicate so much time to a piece that the subject in our thoughts as a weird mixture of impressions and images, seems to superimpose what is actually there.

Ahh, I think that's why I struggle the most with that part because I really have little idea of American society. I know only that which the media portrays and the Australian discourse regarding Americans, however false and shallow it may be. It seems I'm going to have to take an interest in History to fully understand your genius =P

Oh no, definitely not! Azi's critique is amazing. If you haven't already bowed down to her for providing such in-depth feedback, you should! Reading it, and then your piece again, everything makes much, much more sense. Especially that wild imagery. Plus, I did some more googling on the word "hyperborean" and bam, some further illumination.

Someone with as much talent as you deserves people to take time to critique such work. At that, can you become a novelist because I'm sick of Stephanie Meyer :giggle:
Carmalain7 Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2012
If i ever wrote a novel, these would truly be the last of our days.
Lalita17 Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2012
this is incredible..
Carmalain7 Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2012
You are incredible.

(but seriously, your gallery is just full of lovely pictures of someone who is so downright lovely herself that it leaves the viewer pondering if the one is lovely in itself or if it is the loveliness of the other that makes it so.)

Lalita17 Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2012
:blush: Are you naturally this charming?
Carmalain7 Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2012
Only when the words i'm searching for present themselves to me, fair lass, else i actually come across at a loss (mostly for words but occasionally for presence).
Lalita17 Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2012
hahahha! You're so eloquent with words, I suppose that's why you're a writer ^^;
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