#1
put it in the free post, but it is more than that i think. leave a link, im off this weekend and can get back to you without a problem.

we wept for amenities,
gave up our weekends,
and set up a search party for identity.
leaking out behind the garage,
bangin on sixes, and puttin back twelves.
trying to find that one true attachment to ourselves.

pulled up the chair right next to hers.
the metal was folded, tough enough to sit on,
but if you put it against the concrete floor
all of its purpose filled qualities will be gone.

thought about putting my hand on her thigh.
instead i reached behind me with the right, picked up a brew.
took the left fingers and began to chew.
the garage was cold, it was february, we were in the north.
i was in the south.

sweating hard.
it felt like the mountains in the summer months.
hiking continuously,
everytime passing the same trees.
i'm finding that the moss grows differently.
each time another shade of green.

i got lost really quick.
within the first two hours i had my back to a birch
swearing that she's a bitch, crying for a shower.
knowing exactly why congress says canada is for cowards.

if i didn't want to die, i would live.
but only if i wanted too.

things kept on getting in the way.
i invented party chairs, cold beers, and awkward stares
all while going to work on my weaker hand.
you really had to be there.
#3
Quote by freshtunes
we wept for amenities,
gave up our weekends,
and set up a search party for identity.
leaking out behind the garage,
bangin on sixes, and puttin back twelves.
trying to find that one true attachment to ourselves.
Nick, this part was spectacular. I felt like I've been trying to say something like this for months, but lately I've been a little distraught and haven't had the peace inside to eliminate the dissonance/detachment from plowing through my words and creating some sort of blunt instrument to hit people with rather than sit back and have a nice read about, well, life.
Good, great, job on this. And that's not even to mention the rest, Nick. I thoroughly enjoyed this.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#4
I'm so with Kent on this one. One of the best I'e read from you in a very long time.
#5
Quote by freshtunes
put it in the free post, but it is more than that i think. leave a link, im off this weekend and can get back to you without a problem.

we wept for amenities,
gave up our weekends,
and set up a search party for identity.
leaking out behind the garage,
bangin on sixes, and puttin back twelves.
trying to find that one true attachment to ourselves.

fantastic. rhyme when used properly can be absolutely devastating and you got straight to the point with this stanza. one hope is that you don't use too much slang in the stuff ahead.

pulled up the chair right next to hers.
the metal was folded, tough enough to sit on,
but if you put it against the concrete floor
all of its purpose filled qualities will be gone.

again, the rhyme worked well. this stanza didn't make so much sense due to the third and fourth lines switching to future tense from past tense. confused me a bit.

thought about putting my hand on her thigh.
instead i reached behind me with the right, picked up a brew.
took the left fingers and began to chew.
the garage was cold, it was february, we were in the north.
i was in the south.

aha, there we go, keeping up the rhyme and making a great little contrast call/response thing at the end there. much better.

sweating hard.
it felt like the mountains in the summer months.
hiking continuously,
everytime passing the same trees.
i'm finding that the moss grows differently.
each time another shade of green.

wasn't a big fan of the beginning as it seemed to veer off just a little bit, but the rest of the extended metaphor/simile picked up and the rhyme - just barely hanging on there - still gave it that extra kick.

i got lost really quick.
within the first two hours i had my back to a birch
swearing that she's a bitch, crying for a shower.
knowing exactly why congress says canada is for cowards.

if i didn't want to die, i would live.
but only if i wanted to.

i'll stop mentioning the rhyme at this point because you know by know that it's fantastic. the "canada is for cowards" section was wonderful. the next bit... not so much. confusing and didn't really mean much. also the "too" instead of "to" made my grammar-nazi side incredibly annoyed.

things kept on getting in the way.
i invented party chairs, cold beers, and awkward stares
all while going to work on my weaker hand.
you really had to be there.

the word "invention" works fantastically here. no complaints about this stanza.


overall, excellent feel, but my complaint would be the fact that it's experienced - both as a piece of writing and a coherent plot - so, so much better if it's read in-depth. i always try to cop the wave-type feel rather than the specific one, so that's subjective, however.

excellent piece. if you feel like returning some stuff, here's mine:

https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?p=18930514
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#6
well i use slang in my pieces for a reason. if i started writing with perfect grammar it would take away from my pieces. slang is used to bring air into the writing, making it off hand, and observational of situations. i like to pull meaning out of actual life. it isn't meant to be perfect, it is meant to be real. capitalization isn't used either. no one word is more important than the other. a piece of poetry is like a malitia...one man can't do it himself, it takes a bunch of the same ordinary guys to make something great.
Last edited by freshtunes at Mar 6, 2009,