#1
Andalucía


I went to church. This is what I heard.

It happened in a small town in New York. A boy brought a gun to school and killed 7 children.
Shit. Spit.
dragged across the floor
paints more than
red black and blue,
not quite an IOU
but nothing short of beautiful.

All of the mothers rushed to find out if it was their child. It was somebody's child. It's always somebody's child. The mom went home and stared at her son's unmade bed, at his muddy shoes, at his dirty clothes. She washed the clothes and made the bed. Put the sneakers in the garage on the shelf. It wasn't real. It was a dream. Then the hospital called and asked if they had permission to transplant his organs. She said yes, and his kidneys went to a dentist. His heart went to a minister. Two years later, she found that minister and talked, laughed, and cried with him for hours. And as she was about to leave she cocked her head, stared into his eyes, thought for a second and asked if she could listen to it- if she could hear her son's heart beat one last time. So she pressed her ear up against his chest for hours and heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
And she left
a changed woman.

There was a monk in northern Greece that had a dream of making a pilgrimage to the great city of Jerusalem. There he would walk around the basilica three times and kneel on the earth and the dirt and find God peeking down on him. He saved his money until he was old enough to say he was getting old. Then, he grabbed his cloak and his staff and his bag of coins that would carry him to Israel, but he didn't get very far. He made it half a mile before he saw a tattered beggar with tattered excuses for clothes and a tattered heart. The man asked for help. He had a family. The monk stared into his eyes and thought for a second. Then he gave the man his bag of coins and walked around him three times then knelt. Kissed the earth like a haymarket square but with nothing there.
And he left
a changed man.

I wrote a letter once. It was to somebody who knew me better than she realized, but she didn't realize what she knew. I wrote a letter about a little boy and a little girl who made a tire swing up on a hill somewhere back in the fifties. I wrote a letter about a teenage boy listening to lo-fi tapes in his bedroom for hours. I wrote a letter about a little boy, mid-twenties with his back up against a column that was holding up a hospital in upper New York City. A boy who fell asleep on the subway on the way home. And as the wheels rattled through the veins of the city born to me eighty years ago, my dream went like this.

I would see you like a hand reeled movie
sleeping on a park bench
in a town too small to go unnoticed in.
Waking up from a small hill in Tennessee with our bodies imprinted on it's crest.
A man would ask you if you had ever cried
and you would say yes
but it was red and soon drenched
in whiskey to help the pain
and save some face.
Save some for me, you'd say to your slipping hand
but it was already gone to your veins and the floor and a little in your jeans.
You hadn't hesitated, you just hadn't thought of stopping
And you would think of whether or not
you should have told him all of this.
And whether it was right to lie about such important things
But it wouldn't be important enough to think about until later.
When you would have time
and a place to sleep
that wasn't so quiet
and so lonely. A place with more people,
where nobody cared that you were there,
on their park benches,
on their minds.
A place in Andalucía with other people like you.

I crawled out of the steam into the lower east-side
opened my eyes
walked around the block three times
and fell to my knees at the mercy of a dark alleyway
Whatever comes out can have me
I thought
And I kissed the pavement
let an insult bounce by
And I thought about dreams
of us taking a steam ship to Spain
and worrying about not taking in the sunset
for as long as it was
but it would only get better until it disappears
and dreams of sleeping in Seville
and leaving everyone else behind
but now your bound here. You’re
buried here
you’re etched in stone here
Embossed in the city here.
Lady Liberty once said she welcomed me
But I don't know if that means
I'm allowed to leave
it wouldn't be the first time
but this time
I just wouldn't tell her that I wouldn't be coming back.

Maybe it's better that she never knows.
Off to Andalucía And I Lose You.



quick fixes in. thanks Corey.
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Last edited by jiminizzle at Dec 3, 2008,
#2
so, might as well write a book I think?

seems nice though
Wise Man Says: The guitar is obviously female, she's got hips, breasts... and a hole.
UG's Flamenco Club
Last edited by FretboardToAsh at Nov 24, 2008,
#4
I felt like I was in a movie.

Like you pulled me into something and walked with me along a filmstrip road until the end, and let me go.

I felt like I was dreaming.
マリ「しあわっせはーあるいってこないだーからあるいってゆっくんだねーん 
いっちにっちいっぽみーかでさんぽ
 さーんぽすすんでにっほさっがるー 
じーんせいはっわんつー!ぱんち・・・


"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching

#5
with all the encouragement and praise you've given me over my time here, i've just been waiting for you to post something so i could return the favor, and here i am dripping with gratitude, yet still without a word to say. you make me feel small as a writer. this is beyond gorgeous, and dare i say, this may be leagues ahead of any of the other great writers on here. thank you.
#6
fretboard: thanks for reading
Zach: that's huge to me. It really means a lot.
Cory: that's the perfect sentiment for what this means to me. I'm really glad you enjoyed it.
Nick: I really appreciate it. Honestly. You should never feel small as a writer.you are one of my favorites. you're comments are very humbling.

I really don't know what to say. I'm pretty happy with this, It's definately one of my favorites that I've finished but I'm not the most prolific writer so hopefully I can keep getting better haha. This is very encouraging that you guys liked it. You guys made my day thanks so much for your support. I'll dish out some comments in return soon.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#8
That is a quality piece of writing, really enjoyed (if that's the right word) it. Love the language you used - moving!
#9
THis was brilliant. One thing though, its "knew", not "new" (S5 - the one about the letter). APart from that, incredible.
#10
emily: it's more of a poem freewrite type thing. Not everything has to be lyrics on here. (sorry if you knew that, I don't mean to be an ass. Maybe I should have specified.) Thanks for reading.
Thanks Stripey!
You're crazy too nick Thank youu
Thanks for pointing that out kdowns (Kyle's your name, right?) I kind of like it as new though but I'm unsure if it works or not I'll think about changing it haha. Thanks man. I'll pm you when I get to 'bah humbug'

thanks everyone.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#11
Quote by NGD1313
this is beyond gorgeous, and dare i say, this may be leagues ahead of any of the other great writers on here.


I'd like to echo this thought.

There's problems with grammar and such, and I intend to come back to this post in a little while and point some of these out to you -- but the very premise, the very ideas, the very words you use here are nothing short of ****ing spectacular. This should be published somewhere.

I am very impressed right now. Absolutely ****ing spectacular.
#12
Just a preface: I'm going to be picky as all hell, because I really do believe this could/should be published.

Andalucía
Why is it spelled "Andalucia" here, but "Andalusia" when its used twice later? Is it the same word? It should definitely have some continuity if so.

I went to church. This is what I heard.

It happened in a small town in New York. A boy brought a gun to school and killed 7 children.
Shit. Spit.
dragged across the floor
paints more than
red black and blue,
not quite an IOU
but nothing short of beautiful.

All of the mothers rushed to find out if it was their child. It was somebody's child. It's always somebody's child. The mom went home and stared at her son's unmade bed. At his muddy shoes, at his dirty clothes. Not sure this should be a separate sentence. She washed the clothes and made the bed. Put the sneakers in the garage on the shelf. It wasn't real. It was a dream. Then the hospital called and asked if they had permission to transplant his organs. She said yes. He was dead I'm not sure if "transplant" is the right word here, but this, and everything else implies he's dead, so I'm not sure restating it is really necessary here. and his kidneys went to a dentist. His heart went to a minister. And two years later she found that minister and talked and laughed and cried with him for hours. Remove the "and" (too many "and"s around this part), and add a comma after "later". And as she was about to leave she cocked her head, stared into his eyes, thought for a second and asked if she could listen to it. If she could hear her son's heart beat one last time. Not sure this should be a separate sentence either. I think a semicolon between "...listen to it; if she could hear..." is much more effective. And she pressed her ear up against his chest for hours and heard the most beautiful sound in the world. And she left
a changed woman.

There was a monk in Northern Greece that had a dream of making a pilgrimage to the great city of Jerusalem. "Northern" probably doesn't need to be capitalized. There he would walk around the basilica three times and kneel on the earth and the dirt and find God peeking down on him. He saved his money until he was old enough to say he was getting old. And he grabbed his cloak and his staff and his bag of coins that would carry him to Israel. But he didn't get very far. "He grabbed his cloak ... to Israel, but he didn't get very far." He made it half a mile before he saw a tattered beggar with a tattered excuse for clothes and a tattered heart. "tattered excuses for clothes" sounds better, I think. The man asked for help. He had a family. The monk stared into his eyes and thought for a second. Then gave the man his bag of coins and walked around him three times and knelt. "Then he gave" Kissed the earth like a haymarket square but with nothing there. He left
back to the monastery a changed man.
If you're trying to have some continuity between this and the previous stanza about leaving a changed person, then it needs to be structured the same, so removed "back to the monastery" or put it all on the same line, I'd think.


I wrote a letter once. It was to somebody who new It's not better as "new". me better than she realized but she didn't realize what she knew. I wrote a letter about the little boy and the little girl who made a tire swing up on a hill somewhere back in the fifties. Continuity again. Here you say "the little boy" while in the next couple sentences you say "a little boy". I think they should all read "a little boy". I wrote a letter about a teenage boy listening to lo-fi tapes in his bedroom for hours. I wrote a letter about a little boy, mid-twenties with his back up against a column that was holding up a hospital in upper new york city. A boy who fell asleep on the subway on the way home. And as the wheels rattled through the veins of the city born to me eighty years ago. Not a sentence. Should be a comma, with the "My dream..." turning it into a sentence. My dream went like this.

I would see you like a hand reeled movie
sleeping on a park bench
in a town too small to go unnoticed in.
Waking up from a small hill in tennesse with our bodies imprinted on it's crest.
Tennessee
A man would ask you if you had ever cried
and you would say yes
but it was red and soon drenched
in whiskey to help the pain
and save some face.
You switch from a future tense to past tense between these lines. You should make a shift clearer, or make the tenses match better. Changing the "said" in the next line to "say".
Save some for me, you'd said to your slipping hand
but it was already gone to your veins and the floor and a little in your jeans.
You hadn't hesitated, you just hadn't thought of stopping
And you would think of whether or not
you should have told him all of this.
And whether it was right to lie about such important things
But it wouldn't be important enough to think about until later.
When you would have time
and a place to sleep
that wasn't so quiet
and so lonely. A place with more people,
where nobody cared that you were there,
on their park benches,
on their minds.
A place in Andalusia with other people like you.

I crawled out of the steam into the lower east-side
opened my eyes
walked around the block three times
and fell to my knees at the mercy of a dark alleyway
Whatever comes out can have me
I thought
And I kissed the pavement
let an insult bounce by
And I thought about dreams
of us taking a steam ship to spain
Spain
and worrying about not taking in the sunset
for as long as it was
but it would only get better until it disappears
and dreams of sleeping in seville
Seville -- I'm saying this because, you had everything capitalized earlier, but here everything is lower cased, and as I've said a few times now -- it hurts the continuity in the poem.
and leaving everyone else behind
but now your bound here. Your
buried here You're you're you're you're you're you're you're
your etched in stone here
Embossed in the city here.
Lady liberty once said she welcomed me
Lady Liberty
But I don't know if that means
I'm allowed to leave
it wouldn't be the first time
but this time
I just wouldn't tell her that I wouldn't be coming back.

Maybe it's better that she never knows.
Off to Andalusia And I Lose You.

Like I said before, I loved this. Just thought it could use some cleaning up. Going through it again a third and fourth time, I think there's some filler in here that could probably be removed and make this a tighter package but I'd rather just focus on this stuff for now. Hope this wasn't too pretentious.
#13
God, Corey. I couldn't ask for more. That was more than helpful and more than encouraging. I'm really inspired to work with this now. I'll go through it and try to fix up the stuff you mentioned when I'm not so tired. The Andalusia spelling thing had some weird purpose in my head dealing with confusion and evolution. Like how a places name is spelled in America and in Spain, but that's one of those things that doesn't really translate well on paper with a real reader. I'll try to decide which I like better and probably change it. Everything else you pointed out was spot on. Thanks again. I'll try to return the favor somehow but I'm not sure where to start
I didn't know this would be so well received. Thanks so much.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#15
I totally agree, if its not published and you make sh*t loads of money, then at the very least you should use it to pull!!!
#16
alright jimmy I stumbled upon this like the second you posted it. But I couldn't find words to sum up my thoughts and there were many small unimportant mistakes that I wanted to point out. Now that Corey took care of that, I'm still left speechless though.

I read it whole about a dozen times now. Pretty damn good stuff.
That's it.

Mat
<3
#17
Mark down one more on the list of people to read. Magnificent.
On the eight day we spoke back...

let there be sound.
#18
first off, the opening verse didnt do much for me at all.

but

All of the mothers rushed to find out if it was their child. It was somebody's child. It's always somebody's child. The mom went home and stared at her son's unmade bed. At his muddy shoes, at his dirty clothes. She washed the clothes and made the bed. Put the sneakers in the garage on the shelf. It wasn't real. It was a dream. Then the hospital called and asked if they had permission to transplant his organs. She said yes. He was dead and his kidneys went to a dentist. His heart went to a minister. And two years later she found that minister and talked and laughed and cried with him for hours. And as she was about to leave she cocked her head, stared into his eyes, thought for a second and asked if she could listen to it. If she could hear her son's heart beat one last time. And she pressed her ear up against his chest for hours and heard the most beautiful sound in the world. And she left
a changed woman.


that was just breathtaking.
i had a hard time taking in the rest as i was reading through, because i was still digesting this part.
its like a piece of perfectly crafted minimalism. just beautiful. somewhere perfectly between hollowness and depth.

the second part of the prose really didnt do anything for me personally either. it seemed more like a half assed lesson at a sunday school.
for some reason the "tattered beggar...tattered heart" line stuck out to me as being particularly (for want of a better word) hacky...

the last part of prose still seems like you'd lost your way a little. specifically how you said "you wrote a letter once" and then go on to describe the individual letters and different ages. either that letter took a long while to write or that part could do with a little rewording. then the dream part comes out of nowhere and theres a change in tense that doesnt really fit right.
you pull it back niicely for the end though. the poetry is just great.
simply very well written, although, after the matter of fact impact of the first part, the slow build up of more florid, emotional language in the rest just couldnt compete.
thats probably just me though...

nice one
--------------------i'm definitely the alphaest male here--------------------
#19
zach (and stripey) good idea but you underestimate me haha thanks again.
mat: thanks. I'm so glad you like it
billyjson: aww you overestimate me
funkaspuck: Thanks so much. Your critique is really helping me assess what I can work on. Honestly, I really appreciate it.


I'll be reading your guys soon (i'm a late person, so soon is relative. But I'll try). And I'll be editing in some quick fixes soon too.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me