leave a link, crit 4 crit


Tex Avery On Childbirth

in the honey before the hive,
she's got the sweet stuff as long as I'm
talking right, in our hangar of buzzing
smiles, I could grow up listening to her
voice bounce back and forth in my ever blooming
head, where I typically tend to sound scottish,
a grand opening is always happening there, my mouth
of aluminum cans, she spits in my drinks and
I don't care. And for what reason would her skin
look so sickly, or vile onto her, a gutsy palette were
every swollen note is an overture or a seizure, spent
well our tongues on each other, so well they were
tied in debt.

and from whatever
good girl promise, I just wonder;
about yearly condolences for sizing clothing
or what matters most between us.
grabbing her ankles from over the
side, we watched the harrowing cheeks
dance courting dances for their Gatsby
friends. I kept my name as Carraway, not for her
but so I could see everyone from a distance. An ovarian
cyst probably, inside somewhere, to view from a
(something) scope, third girl I've known, perhaps
I'm bad luck, vaginal curses a company me like looming
vultures, in what the pecking order does arrive? Do
we idly sit and wait for each other to die, and/or a barren
desert thirsty for life. a prayer for flowery tunnels, whispering
and wet fingers, a drop, from the certain center my
hand cups from her a cactus welcome, banging out
the details, to try and try again.

step our heads through cobalt ringers, smash the
blues right into them, and our baby's bin or diary/
never step foot in that room again,
not once or twice but we're not allowed, she
never used her hands to tie
the knots in her stomach, a gordian
twist to her pre-natal pond, again in doubles
we're aging fumbles and now
in our late Terry Gordy's we look at
swollen eyes, glossy with the white tapping spit
of a sunken shoe, and we moved forward
just for a little bit. The sound of milk, or
the subtle traffic of nostalgic breasts, this is
how we end up knowing, translating our
"I don't knows" to tapping on metal rims with
glass tip coins, we spent our currentsee on
loving each other so intimately. I couldn't clause
my eyes to a swelling stadium, and she couldn't
for open legs.

Colorful sounding, never known such
pretty-ing, quickly womens,
I remember molting, in a way our doors where
we each stood, hands pressed for a quake, trembling
lungs or shaking lamps where vignettes played
light picture shows on the quilts, daily we
spoke about what to pass on when we died, a coin collection
for our grand daug--jumped the gun.

Last edited by Something_Vague at Jan 7, 2009,
If i was to read this just purely word by word and crit it on the how it sounds, i would say this was mindblowing. The way the words twist and warp around each other, playing back and forth and tying themselves in so many knots eventually you get lost trying to find the end. And there lies the problem. For me, i just got tangled up in the words. It was just too much, too fast without a breather and it became really tangled and hard to follow. The longer I read it, the harder it got. By the end of this piece, I was completely lost as to what had happened. I couldn't follow anything. But damn, it was a fun ride. The wordplay is sheerly God-like. It would just be so much nicer if the idea could hsine through instead of being strangled to death. Sorry for the wall of text. THere's a link in my sig "for alex" if you want to hit something up.
Kyle really got what I was going to say (and not for the first time, he's very quick [that's what she said!])

It is very hard to get into this, to search for something behind the basic meaning of the wonderful words.

I don't know what you're regular style is, but it is clear that you have a great understanding of language, and rather than continue with more like this, I recommend doing something with a great subtext, and perfect subtlety that you are capable of when it is not hidden this well.

That's what its like, hide and seek. You hid the meaning behind all these words, but you hid it so damn well I'm close to giving up.
the girl i love recently told me she has a cyst on her ovaries, we may never have kids (if we go that far.)

Apparently knowing this makes the piece thirty times better.
yeah I had a small understanding of what was going about halfway through but then (like the others) got lost in what exactly was happening. Everything sounded good with some great imagery but I didnt know the real center piece untill you explained a little bit in the above post. I dont know if it made it better, was still incredible but it just makes it all click with smoother gears. Anyway great piece.
that was very, very, very good. all the anguished crazy stream-of-consciousness lines just twisted and tied into each other until it was a sinuous blend of pure, excellent writing.

to attempt a nit-picking session, it was very hard to read word by word, but that's a much better thing than not being able to let it wash over you. fix the intentional misspelling of "currency", however, it didn't work the way you meant it to (unless you meant it to confuse me by a rather sad attempt of cutesy playaround). also, the misspell of "where" in the first stanza never ceases to annoy me.

besides that, the overall ratings are through the roof - i've never had such a positive feeling about a piece when skimming it.

if you'd like to C4C: https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=1041737
You know my feelings on this already.

But what you don't know is that Heath Ledger was considered for Hugh Jackman's role in Australia but dropped out to do the Dark Knight.
Poor advice.
I picked up on there being something about not being able to have kids and the cyst on the ovaries, i was just saying that it was so chaotic it became difficult to read. I'm sorry if anything i said offended you, it was not my intent. i was simply offering my opinion on one part of the poem.
Oh don't worry, I'm never offended. I'm glad everyone enjoyed this. I haven't written like this in ages, and I might start experimenting with this style again.
It's one of those things that I have to read over and over again to pick out the "rhymth" I guess. It's a very specific style and you have to know where the author is coming from. If you wrote maybe four or five of these, by the fifth one, i'd be able to digest it straight away.
You're certainly one of the most skilled amateur writer's whose work I've gotten a glimpse of. You definitely know how to manipulate words and make them sound absolutely beautiful, almost to the point, as previously stated, that you've got your own language going on here that possibly only you really speak fluently. There's something intriguing about that which keeps me reading.

The sexuality in this piece is subtle and tastefully done, but there are a couple non-sexual vulgar lines that had me cringing, like the one about her spitting in your drink. I guess that's the beauty in ugliness, though.

Anyway, I really have no specific criticisms. I didn't have as hard a time following it as I thought I might from others' previous impressions. I'd definitely give this at least an 8/10.

If you have time, it would be nice to get a crit on my song, Comma, which is in my sig. Thanks, and great job.
I'll definitely get to this, I will I will I will. I owe you.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
thanks, I'd appreciate any more if you want. Leave a link and I'll get to yours.
Sometimes the images piled up a bit too high for me. Some of it reminded me of arcadianwarrior, but with that emotion thing added.

That emotion thing was very beautiful, but it was sometimes swallowed.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!