#1
C4C ! (leave link)

I haven't been writing anything lately, and what I write I don't like. This is an example of it. Any advices are welcome.


I saw your picture in a magazine,
holding hands with a guy I've never seen,
and I thought about how funny it is
that everyone comes clean once in a lifetime,
or dies trying.

And I'm trying hard to get out of this prison;
these infected pores in my elbow,
pinning sinful fiends in haunting season
for stupid propaganda, selling a philosophy
I already know.

And it grows in me, getting out of this place.
I get lost in dreams with your cadaverous face.
And in psychedelic colours you dance ballet;
'twas what you did today in an empty frame
with broken glass.

Finding happiness in small amounts of sex,
any drugs like Ecs and your rock and roll.
And as the story unfolds, you created chords
that didn't touch a soul but destroyed your core.
Die trying, my cher.

And I'll be there to bury you, my love;
yours will be slitting his wrists with my broken frame.
And the flames of coming clean
will extinguish, when you see
that the hands you once held have ripped this magazine.
Last edited by seventh_angel at Dec 19, 2008,
#2
Quote by seventh_angel

I saw your picture in a magazine,
holding hands with a guy I've never seen,
and I thought about: how funny it is
Lose the comma.
that everyone comes clean once? in a lifetime,
or dies trying.
This was a great stanza, but the flow of the last two lines was anti-climatic.

And I'm trying hard to get out of this prison;
these infected pores in my elbow,
This is a really strange line, because of both pores and elbow.
pinning sinful fiends in haunting season
Great line, but seriously, who says fiends nowadays?
for stupid propaganda, selling a philosophy
I already know.
Great.

And it grows in me, getting out of this place.
I get lost in dreams with your cadaverous face.
And in psychedelic colours you dance ballet;
t'was what you did today in an empty frame
t'was isn't correct. Think about what apostrophes are for and correct.
with broken glass.
Brilliant.

Finding happiness in small amounts of sex,
any drugs like Ecs and your rock and roll.
Brilliant. I'm not sure if Ecs really worked for me, the slang. The rhyme did however.
And as the story unfolds, you created chords
that didn't touch a soul but destroyed you core.
Die trying, my cher.
Amazing.

And I'll be there to bury you, my love;
yours will be slitting his wrists with my broken frame.
And the flames of coming clean
will extinguish, when you see
that the hands you once held have ripped this magazine.
These two long lines in this stanza need a line break somewhere in them. Love it.



This was great.
#3
WARNING!! I am going to be as harsh as humanly possible. Nothing personal


Quote by seventh_angel
C4C ! (leave link)

I haven't been writing anything lately, and what I write I don't like. This is an example of it. Any advices are welcome.


I saw your picture in a magazine,
holding hands with a guy I've never seen,
and I thought about how funny it is
that everyone comes clean once in a lifetime,
or dies trying.

There's things i did and didn't like about this. The internal rhyming the last part was a clever way to keep this interesting, but the rhymes are just too similar. Also, there is just something not right about this. I cant put my finger on it yet.

And I'm trying hard to get out of this prison;
these infected pores in my elbow,
pinning sinful fiends in haunting season
for stupid propaganda, selling a philosophy
I already know.

FIrst two lines: blah. Espcially the second one. One of the worst lines of writing i've read in ages. The rest of this is fantastic.

And it grows in me, getting out of this place.
I get lost in dreams with your cadaverous face.
And in psychedelic colours you dance ballet;
'twas what you did today in an empty frame
with broken glass.

I'm really not sure about "cadaverous". It's so coarse, and just too big a word for here. Everything is, brilliant.

Finding happiness in small amounts of sex,
any drugs like Ecs and your rock and roll.
And as the story unfolds, you created chords
that didn't touch a soul but destroyed you core.
Die trying, my cher.

Typo, L4
"you're core"

This is really clever, the way the rhyming warps and floats through this stanza. Very, very enjoyable, reminiscent of you earlier work.


And I'll be there to bury you, my love;
yours will be slitting his wrists with my broken frame.
And the flames of coming clean
will extinguish, when you see
that the hands you once held have ripped this magazine.

Oh damn, no complaints.That was amazing.



Just want to finish by saying this hinted at your earlier pizzazz, but it just wasn't there. its could to see you writing again though.
#4
Quote by seventh_angel
C4C ! (leave link)

I haven't been writing anything lately, and what I write I don't like. This is an example of it. Any advices are welcome.


I saw your picture in a magazine,
holding hands with a guy I've never seen,
and I thought about how funny it is
that everyone comes clean once in a lifetime,
or dies trying.

Overall a nice intro and I liked it, a lot, well done.

And I'm trying hard to get out of this prison;
these infected pores in my elbow,
pinning sinful fiends in haunting season
for stupid propaganda, selling a philosophy
I already know.

Ok, I dont know what to say about this stanza, it was completely from left field, and the whole thing felt like a mixture of being forced and awkward. maybe needs a little revising?

And it grows in me, getting out of this place.
I get lost in dreams with your cadaverous face.
And in psychedelic colours you dance ballet;
'twas what you did today in an empty frame
with broken glass.

Ding, ding, we have a winer, like this stanza a lot, nothing I could point our here, fantastic work.

Finding happiness in small amounts of sex,
any drugs like Ecs and your rock and roll.
And as the story unfolds, you created chords
that didn't touch a soul but destroyed your core.
Die trying, my cher.

Again, perfect.

And I'll be there to bury you, my love;
yours will be slitting his wrists with my broken frame.
And the flames of coming clean
will extinguish, when you see
that the hands you once held have ripped this magazine.

Fantastic ending, so four out of five I loved, that second stanza, sort of ruined it for me, fix that up, and it's got my vote.


overall, I enjoyed it, nice work, if you could look at twelve walls, it'd be much appreciated, cheers!
#5
I saw your picture in a magazine,
holding hands with a guy I've never seen,
and I thought about how funny it is
that everyone comes clean once in a lifetime,
or dies trying.


dude that really makes sense (in a way..)

the rest is amazing too but this is my favourite verse
Last edited by blueburnsred at Dec 20, 2008,
#9
Quote by seventh_angel
C4C ! (leave link)

I haven't been writing anything lately, and what I write I don't like. This is an example of it. Any advices are welcome.


I saw your picture in a magazine,
holding hands with a guy I've never seen,
and I thought about how funny it is
that everyone comes clean once in a lifetime,
or dies trying.
I really like this. It's totally against the way you normally write and is very earthy and downtrodden.

And I'm trying hard to get out of this prison;
these infected pores in my elbow,
pinning sinful fiends in haunting season
for stupid propaganda, selling a philosophy
I already know.
I like these two lines, but not the previous three, unfortunately. I hate to go with the crowd here.
I think it's the sudden change of style that hurts this in the way that it does. You could of stuck with the same method of approach and it would of lent the uncommon words more space and humanity.


And it grows in me, getting out of this place.
I get lost in dreams with your cadaverous face.
I adore this line, especially "your cadaverous face."
And in psychedelic colours you dance ballet;
'twas what you did today in an empty frame
with broken glass.
Don't so keen on these three lines. It's all too disconnected.

Finding happiness in small amounts of sex,
any drugs like Ecs and your rock and roll.
There are good ideas here, just the line breaks don't suit it at all.
And as the story unfolds, you created chords
that didn't touch a soul but destroyed your core.
Die trying, my cher.

And I'll be there to bury you, my love;
yours will be slitting his wrists with my broken frame.
And the flames of coming clean
will extinguish, when you see
that the hands you once held have ripped this magazine.
Once again, it's overly dramatic compared to the simplistic smashing of the opening verse. I would of loved to of read more in that vain.


I apologize for the utterly crap critique but it's all I feel I can give right now.

Good work, just very poorly done, compared to your normal excellence.

Digitally Clean