#1
Someone else is writing/has written Part I. It's very long. Crit for crit, I guess.

Violet Part II: Hours

Indigo tint in your eyes,
Entangled amidst your intentions,
Stare through me like a mirror,
With my shadow in suspension,
The whites of your eyes reflect,
The pain that the drugs took away,
Ravens assembling for tea,
Crows forming from the rain.

Plum droplets form on the pane,
Quarantines the lilac empress,
Turning my hope to resentment,
By mists of my lavender temptress,
Catatonic state of being,
The deeper form vision,
Dissect the goose for golden eggs,
Who makes the first incision?

Violet, cast off your shell,
The restraints of sanity have fallen,
The result is clear, the lies are true,
All the laws that bind forgot you.

Penguins gliding,
Cut through clouds of purple smoke,
Land gracefully at your feet,
Just to tell you,
That you aren?t insane.

Terminal shade of lust,
Fatally wounded child,
Innocent until sedated,
Violence so tender and mild,
Vultures will start to scavenge,
Before the body?s a corpse,
Performing their deadly pre-mortem,
Without the notion of remorse.

Violet, cast off your shell,
The restraints of sanity have fallen,
The result is clear, the lies are true,
All the laws that bind forgot you.

These hours set for us,
So few and far between,
The bluebells I placed in your hair,
Contrasting with citrine,
The earrings that you treasure,
A metaphor for truth,
The afterlife that we devised,
Unfathomable in youth.

Penguins glide,
Cut through the clouds,
Of purple smoke,
Stand at your feet,
To let you know,
You are free.

These hours...
These hours...
These hours; too few.
Quote by Mascot
yuR a fAggit
#2
The flow is a bit off - I suppose the usage of so many polysyllabic words within a single line is dependent upon the manner in which the lines are presented. My assumption is that this is a poem, not a massive lyric, meaning that the benefit of slurring on-stage is non-existent. I suppose it isn't that the beats are too far off, merely that, on occasion, the beast gets the better of the word and make it something of a hindrance.

"Quarantines the lilac empress" sounds too "poetic". Something about it seems overly abstract - too distant to easily connect with (mainly "quarantines" - it's really throwing me off).

I don't get the penguins. Honestly, I think the little critters are the cutest things on Earth... but, I don't get the symbol. (It isn't supposed to relate with the penguin in Fight Club, right?) Perhaps some clarity - I understand there is some discussion of insanity, but the remainder of the piece doesn't lend itself to the absurdism that a quickly employed penguin would...

A fine piece, though. The diction is spiffy, the images are rock-solid, and the theme is definitely there.
#3
poem? or a song? im going with poem........its not my favorite style, but very interesting none the less......i enjoyed it i must say......im confused by the meaning of some of the stanzas, it seems like its not something most would follow
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#4
Indigo tint in your eyes,
Entangled amidst your intentions,
Stare through me like a mirror,
With my shadow in suspension

, First four lines are great!


The whites of your eyes reflect,
The pain that the drugs took away,
Ravens assembling for tea,
Crows forming from the rain.

The ravens and crows lines seem a little bit strange. They dont flow with the rest of the content of the previous two lines very well.

Plum droplets form on the pane,
Quarantines the lilac empress,
Turning my hope to resentment,
By mists of my lavender temptress,
Catatonic state of being,
The deeper form vision,
Dissect the goose for golden eggs,
Who makes the first incision?

A little bit wordy, Its a risk, people will either love it or hate it.

Violet, cast off your shell,
The restraints of sanity have fallen,
The result is clear, the lies are true,
All the laws that bind forgot you.

Great

Penguins gliding,
Cut through clouds of purple smoke,
Land gracefully at your feet,
Just to tell you,
That you aren?t insane.

Good

Terminal shade of lust,
Fatally wounded child,
Innocent until sedated,
Violence so tender and mild,
Vultures will start to scavenge,
Before the body?s a corpse,
Performing their deadly pre-mortem,
Without the notion of remorse.

Flows REALLY well content wise, remorse and mortem sound a little to similar to me though

Violet, cast off your shell,
The restraints of sanity have fallen,
The result is clear, the lies are true,
All the laws that bind forgot you.

Great

These hours set for us,
So few and far between,
The bluebells I placed in your hair,
Contrasting with citrine,
The earrings that you treasure,
A metaphor for truth,
The afterlife that we devised,
Unfathomable in youth.

Good

Penguins glide,
Cut through the clouds,
Of purple smoke,
Stand at your feet,
To let you know,
You are free.

These hours...
These hours...
These hours; too few.
Quote by boardsofcanada
^^

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#5
The penguins are and purple clouds are to do with hallucinations. It's someone who's in love with a mental patient, who's been drugged up to the eyeballs, so that she's completely incapacitated.
Quote by Mascot
yuR a fAggit