the curse of being a conversationalist
is that no one will touch you.

they will run up to you in the street
and beg to hear you speak.
they will circle in packs,
like wolves
and wait for your will to fold in on itself
before closing in on you,
when you are kneeling in the snowbanks,
and tearing the poetry from your throat.

and after a while,
they rip the passion from you
in small handfuls
like greedy children at halloween
eager to climb onto their beds
and pour the limp phrases and images
onto the sheets and claw at their sides,
worried they didn’t get their favorite one.

the nights will ache with loneliness;
your skin will crawl with its self awareness:
you will forget what it feels like to be touched
or be looked at with admiration,
pride swelling in the stomach and breast
of a lover,
stepping into public
arm in arm.

it will feel like love is evading you
in a playful way, at first,
a child lost in it’s own home,
and it feels plausible to imagine:
you will sometimes hear love lurking in the bathroom
and tip toe off to catch a glimpse of it’s round
red body,
only for it to vanish
without a trace
leaving you to stare at your toes
when you turn on the lights;

you will still fall in love, and when
you find the aura of love on the tip of the tongue
like a drop of whiskey aching to be swallowed
it will evaporate at the slowest of paces;

these are the people you will give everything to
and they take, and they take, and
they take.

most people want to flail their lives about
like blunt objects;
they want to inflict pain with their lives
throwing tantrums and leaving homes leveled,
the hurricane of their age and bitterness
casting long shadows,
strangling out the light of their fragile spirit
and while you will be their solace
their meditation
their reflection,
you will never been
their love,
their forgiveness,

their transformation.

but sometimes
the words will come out
so perfectly
you gaze at them like newborn children
with eyes so pure and clear,
the continent of their being
soft with innocence

and i pick them up in my arms
and cradle them
and weep
while they look up
confused and full of love,
full to the brim with light,
before i throw them to the wolves
Last edited by hippieboy444 at Nov 10, 2013,
It's a nice concept, a usage of nice phrasing, overall fairly pleasing.

I have a hard time critiquing slightly longer pieces like this, because my brain starts to wander, and I have to reread several times, which interrupts the flow. So my first thought with a bunch of poems, is trim it down and, strengthen it, which really isn't necessarily right, but only my opinion.

And it's the same opinion I have about this one.

I feel it's a little long (I feel after the second stanza, you have three more stanzas about "they", I feel like this could be converted into at least two. Also two stanzas consecutively about love, could be merged into one).

Also I think this could use a little more subtlety. I don't need to read the words "poetry", "passion", this really is already shown, or should be. At first I felt like "words" in the second to last stanza, should be left out as well, but I think with the omission of the other two, it would it is fine, and would indeed ring truer. It's just that I feel like I'm being hit over the head with it after a certain point.

most people want to flail their lives about
like blunt objects;

Something wrong with this line, I think it's the blunt objects, maybe it's just too broad of an image, and could use a little tightening.

you will never been

I'm sure you can spot this

Also, I'm not a fan of full stops without capitalization, I don't see the point. It just looks wrong.

Um, there was something else, hmm, oh imaging. As far as the phrasing goes it was nice flowed fairly well, but I think that it could dive a little deeper, and avoid the easy/common phrases. Not there are a lot, but there are some, and every one of them that you clean, will add more depth.

Anyway, nice read, hope this helps, remember it's just an opinion, if you like it the way that it is, keep it.

Thanks, for the crit, I'll try to get to your other work soon. Don't know if I will have time today.
"Pain or damage don't end the world nor despair, nor fuckin' beatings. The world ends when you're dead, until then you have more punishment in store. Stand it like a man, and give some back."
i am so ****ing grateful to be reading this right now, you have no idea

thank you so much
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

thanks for the critiques guys. i think I'm going to try to cut this down a bit. i definitely like the last two stanzas, but i have always struggled with being wordy. glad it helped some of you.