#1
not sure what to say on this one. had some feelings here and there.

childlike prayer hands press together to cover a grinning mouth
--i hate myself.
i tell you this without a twitch or doubt or second thought
the words pin each other against my fingers
the words rattle, gas masked, contained, restrained
the Word right/eous/ly dubs me a sacrilege, a heretic
i whisper in my rhetoric
--**** a god, i have everything i need to believe in right here.
music breathing in all matter
happiness in chitter chatter with blue eyed parisians
antsiness coming with the warping of the seasons
laughter drowning tears and tears drawing laughter
yet all passes, is flee/t/ing
the euphoria depleting i start to feel deleted
tritones rise out of harmonies once unified
foreign girls board planes wave bye at cities
winter keeps lasting longer and longer
my smirks refuse to pass my throat
they die and lump up and concr/ete gran/ite solidify

listen to me while i tell you this:
your arms as a cradle, my head infant-swaddled
your waist clutched by my hands, like a ledge, hanging on
both of our eyes closed resting in a bedroom
streaked by invading orange lamplight
stabbed by random knives of moonlight
letting myself go while you hum gospel tunes i can't identify
they must be in the key of beauty
trying to delve somewhere deeper i tighten my grip on your hips
and you start to murmur words and hosannas in the highest
in the midst of jesus-glories, eros, and nature, i realize
it's not those hymns you're purring
that are saving me.
not even close.
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn


Last edited by Cobrevolution at Mar 17, 2012,
#3
If this is about how you came to be an atheist, then it's fantastic. If it's not, then I guess I'm missing the point.
OBEY THE MIGHTY SHITKICKER
#4
i suppose i'd say, whatever interpretation and impression you choose that makes it read strongest is the one i'd like you to leave with.
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn


#5
It got better and better the more I read it. The flow in the first stanza was a bit cheesy sometimes:

the euphoria depleting i start to feel deleted
tritones rise out of harmonies once unified


but other times was nearly fantastic:

music breathing in all matter
happiness in chitter chatter with blue eyed parisians
antsiness coming with the warping of the seasons


'antsiness' was awkward there (too many attempts at internal rhyme in too small a space - I know that it reflects bipolar to a T, but isn't so good in poetry). Replace it with something that fits, and I could roll this off the tongue for ages.

The second stanza was you in the shit of the flow. I don't know how much you edited this, but I could see this coming off the pen in one stroke, one breath, and everything like soft butter falls into place.

To clarify a few points, I'd put a comma here:

both of our eyes closed, resting in a bedroom

"stabbed by random knives of moonlight" - say this out loud a few times. If it still seems right, leave it. If it doesn't, well, you'll know what to do.

they must be in the key of beauty

is a wonderful line used perhaps too often in slam poetry ("____ in the key of ____") but never seems to lose its edge. but hey, we're musicians here also, so maybe that why it doesn't get old. I love it.

sometimes you use punctuation where it belongs but sometimes not, and it's maddening because it the places it's needed I don't know if you're avoiding it or leaving it out on purpose. obviously you're not using periods here for good reason, if indeed I can take the title as reason.

so, try this on (edited from yours):

trying to delve somewhere deeper, i tighten my grip on your hips
and you start to murmur words and hosannas in the highest

in the midst of jesus-glories, eros, and nature, i realize
it's not those hymns you're purring
that are saving me.


I have serious problems with the ending because you cut yourself off mid-idea, and build a dam to what is the rest of the poem, refusing to go there, refusing to even explore it. If something is saving you, and you've told me what is not even close to it, then I feel like the entire poem I've just read is wasted. You told me a bunch of cool shit, and I was grooving to it hoping for a conclusion, counting on one in fact, and then you say at the end, "oh, none of that mattered." I feel insulted by the poet, and it makes me like you less. Not the narrator, but the writer who's just wasted my energy. Go there, damnit, into what is saving you, into the you that needs to be saved, past the cool rhymes and the good flow and what of yours she's earthquaking (or not), and tell me what you find.

Your poem is great wordwise, but for the reasons above, the rest is garbage.
#6
firstly, thank you; that was a surprisingly helpful critique. second, i'm about to get scholastic, and i hope it doesn't come across as pretentious or highbrow. my explanation here is in a different vein than my response to rooster; you'll see why, i hope.

however, i'm curious as to how you drew your final conclusion, because it seems like you understood where it went but then fumbled over the ending and sorta backtracked.
i already "went there", as you say; there are a number of things present in the poem that pertain to either saving or damning. i listed what isn't close and what is, and the isn't isn't (****ing repetition here, i apologize) everything that came before - it's the gospel tunes and prayers, specifically. what is close - rather, what is actually: the holding, the music breathing and etc lines, the woman, so on and so forth.

as for a conclusion, well, the entire poem is a conclusion to itself. once you read it fully and get to the ending, and you ask yourself "well what the hell is saving this guy?", you can look back and say, "oh, here's an instance, there's an example."
ie, the key of beauty line. getting lost in a song because it's a song, getting lost in a voice because it's a voice, not because it's praising the lord.

in a nutshell, it's preferring the life i have with all of its dichotomies and ****ups and problems/exultations and experiences and joys over the alternative.
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn


#7
woooo thanks for that ride, my friend. lesson learned: read it over and over again, and then draw conclusions. I was connecting the hymns to all of the religious references in the beginning, and aligning them too closely with the girl singing, instead of realizing that what she represented was not what was coming out of her mouth.

Apologies for the harsh words on the ending - I just didn't get it. Thank you.

in sincere humility,
your critic
#8
That was incredible. It felt really chaotic, but you delivered your thoughts and imagery well.