I got this friend: when we were kids we roam around streets pockmarked with the discernable sound of copper wires hung roof bound

We would pretend to run away and look for refuge in the concrete walls – 10 feet tall, iron gridded, and covered in color coded vestiges with what had more meaning before…

You see: you and me, we were born into a world geared up for emphasis on important things measured in abstract means and transmitted on some type of realm slightly less than physical

A part of me apart from me believes in something biblical
I guess I should have been baptized in waters less unbreakable

And as we got older the world got colder but kept warm by a bunch of meaningless fire resembling something like language

And the chatter invades my mind with every breath
linking the physically vacant and reanimating the physically dead

And so we roam around these lands pockmarked with the discernible sound of polysynthesized wires hung above our heads

And we don’t pretend to run away

We run away in our heads with leafy green and brass that gets too hot to when you apply an open flame, forged from plastic and not natural

And I choke back the bile that comes from my throat after I send something burning down it because bile and burn is superior to empty presence, especially after so much burn when the only thing I have to worry about is staying upright on my front feet.

That is simple.

Every night I go to sleep with a floating head and a spinning bed is a night I’m not resting on isolated ones and zeros

Because it is not a good thing to be well adjusted to a sick society

No, the mark of your character is not how snugly you mold your words and hands into ever-accepting and cold systems running on logic

It all lost its footing sometime when eyes focused on pixels and binary instead of breath exhaled and physical embrace
But everyone pretends that it’s all so profound – interconnected but physically broken

And it’s said that at least there is meaning; at least there is meaning

I can’t breathe with those words on my mouth
Breathing is hard when I’m breathing in more than just air.
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What I Liked about it:

I liked how you were willing to put yourself out there. This reads almost like you are confiding in us, so there's a sense of honesty and vulnerability that I think really comes across...like in how you draw parallels between a childhood experience and the way you cope with shit today with smokables. It gives us insight into who you are, your sense of the world, and where you stand in relation to it, and I think that is essentially the substance of good poetry.

"a part of me apart from me..."

this part in particular really grabbed me. i like it when someone can transform a familiar phrase to better convey an idea they have

What I Didn't Like So Much:

Who you are talking to and who you are talking about changes from line to line which confuses me and diffuses the momentum, the intensity, the flow, w/e, of the piece, to me, at least.

Many lines begin with "And", sometimes consecutively, which sorta gives the impression they were "tacked on" there, whether or not they actually were

"waters less unbreakable" is hard to read and understand

I think you have all the substance of a good piece. These are good ideas and I see you took the time to connect them neatly, I just think you need to arrange words so that they're more rhythmic and succinct. That makes all the difference between writing poetry and writing a series of statements and convictions, as far as I can tell. Rather than putting your feelings to words, or thoughts to words (ie mere articulation), try to make music out of words so that we can vibe with them in our heads...reconcile the vitality of lived experienced with the deadness of language.

sorry if i come across like i know what i'm talking about or something. these are just my thoughts. you gotta good message (i think) and one i could relate to...so wanted to help you out if i could
Last edited by Arthur Curry at Oct 15, 2011,