Pull your shutters across my eyes,
lead me blindly into your
caves of despair.
Take my hand,
pull me through the waterfalls
into the room of imaginations.

Against the North wall,
I can now see your world.
The red skies clashing with
fluid grounds and shrubs.
Liquid victims to the fire
of your hatred toward yourself.
A forest in the distance,
one white tree standing tall
and your name spelled
across its branches.

On the East wall,
toward the rising sun,
is my creation.
Grey skies with black
cumulus distortions.
Blocking the light
from the day's birth.
Clinging to the horizon
are dead fields,
where tombstones are sprouting,
growing ivy;
ivy that chokes out the names
chiseled into excavated Earth,
meant to last forever.

And at the corner of the room,
our world's clashed together.
The reds and greys and blacks
melted into clear skies
filled with cardinals and bluebirds.
At the center of my wall;
the ivy from the tallest
headstone slinks away
and slithers to your Earth;
wrapping itself around your tree.
It constricts around the trunk,
cutting deeper and deeper
into your flesh.

The ivy and the tree grind together,
producing heat.
I can see your bark smoldering,
Soon we burn together,
your tree and my ivy.
As your strength gives way,
a wind from the west
pushes us over.

Under blue skies we burn together.
Under blue skies.
the writing here feels like its coming from a place deeper than just your head, regardless of whether your emotions in most of your work comes from a deeper place, the writing sometimes feels like its just coming from a simpler place. here it feels like your wordings and descriptions really matter. thats what i like most about this. there were a few things that bothered me and ill try to get back here tomorrow but im gonna try to get to bed by 5. i liked this a lot.
Anatomy Anatomy
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Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
Quote by jiminizzle
the writing here feels like its coming from a place deeper than just your head,

This is very true. Everything I write comes from an "alter world" that is in my brain... and its just like I described here. This was the purest form of attempting to just describe it that I've ever made; but all of my stories happen here.
it catches you up in the pure rythym of the words and doesnt let you stop until it drops you off a cliff at the end and floating in blue skies...
Sorry if Ive offended some kind of Punk God I should brush up on my Commandments of Punk maybe copy down the Punk Bible a few thousand times so I don't forget again sorry for my error O Punk Master Of All Things That Are Punk .
I felt this poem was good until it got to the last two lines where it became great. Honestly, they hit me like a train.
here, My Dear, here it is
Something that makes me really love you as a person but often irks me in your poetry is that you'll have these intense, quirky, beautiful images in you and then when it comes out in the poem it sounds like you're describing the scene as a spectator rather than recreating it. Half of this absolutely consumed me while the other half just sounded like.. a director talking about ideas he has for a scene.

I didn't like 'caves of despair'. Your images and the things behind this are glorious. Glorious, Zach. I just wish some of it wasn't executed the way it was.

if you have time, I'd really appreciate your input on 'dhikra', but it might be easier to find my latest piece so just go with whatever works for you.
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Last edited by vintage x metal at Dec 19, 2009,
I am with subway. Great piece. The only thing that bothered me was the inclusion of a couple words here and there, but that's so minuscule, really.
.... majestic

this sparked my imagination
(which all good poetry does for me)
but with this
i felt like i was there watching this world come together
piece by piece
building up to more than a beautiful image

i could taste the air

-nice job
Reaching for the sun
one may forget
the feet which
ground him
'caves of despair' is too melodramatic compared to the rest of this, it stands out.

I like how this is a visual piece, we are slowly eased into this by 'pulling the shutters' this is actually happening.

But i feel you take us out of this world briefly where you show the glimpses of yourself. It can be startling and disorientating.

Here's an example of this.

the ivy from the tallest
headstone slinks away (revealing my name)
the brackets clash with the imagery you have going throughout the piece, (revealing my name) it feels unnecessary to include it or even have it in brackets as it becomes disjointing. feels like stage marks (henry enters the room.) You're describing cardinals and bluebirds and it jumps to your name, it's unnecessary to include it. We know it's yours because later one you say

'Soon we burn together,
your tree and my ivy.'

That's all that was needed.

I really enjoyed this though and that was just something that irked me throughout it and that annoyed me because I wanted to love this fully. The build up was well done, it didn't just jump to the end you had control.

and this is something that can stay with you, and something you can think about.

Can you take a look at this for me? much appreciated.
I liked this like a like a Tolkien story. What it's saying is amazing, the imagery is powerful, but sometimes it gets too lost in the little details, the explanations, the flowing imagery, epicness for epicness sake, if you catch my drift. I do, however, feel this is on eof ht emost disciplened pieces you've written, you stick to your guns throughout which makes it a good read. I wouldn't say it's amazing though.
I love the poetic descriptiveness. I agree witht he person was talking about the brackets, yet to me and the way I read it, it flows nicely as an almost spoken side note.

The last two lines to me really tie the whole piece together.

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Well, life is like a penis.
Women make it hard.
Also, it's short but seems long when it gets hard.