#1
Something different.
(And, not "ether" as in the gas.
And I can't get the damn indent thing to not double-space. So, use your imagination.
Edit: And, damn it, I forgot a "to". I knew 11 syllables sounded odd.
Edit, again: And an "a". I ought to stop writing at 4 in the morning... )

+++

Streamwood Metaphysic

I listen to Barber?s adagio for strings,
And listen:

The notes rustle
Like soft cobwebs
Around my circlets
Of understanding ?
Little verses spiral
Upwards from the warm clay
And pronounce:

?You are a man, yet you weep like a woman, so I shall call you neither.?

I grip the plastic arms of a black, high-back chair,
And listen:

The vibrations
Flow through the space
Between time and I.
I, the Great Machine,
The maker of an Earth,
Artificer of dust,
And herald:

?You are vile, yet you wash hands in clean streams, so I shall call you neither.?

I hold on to the sound, I hold on to it tight.
And, I kiss, through the slow-trickling emotions
That flee the final refuge of reality,
And listen:

The ether lays
A heavy hand
On heavy eyelids
And condemns the dead
For wearing the guises
Of the tear-struck, blood-stained,
And Living:

?You are a bastard, yet you blame the whore,
so I shall not call you my son.?
Last edited by paraboetheo at Jul 23, 2006,
#2
I owe you a crit but I aint got the time just now so I'll just give you a bump and get back to this later..............



One day the otters will destroy you all... humans.
#4
An excellent double espresso and midnight quiet incline

A long overdue crit...

Streamwood Metaphysic

I listen to Barber?s adagio for strings,
And listen:

The notes rustle
Like soft cobwebs
Around my circlets
Of understanding ?
Little verses spiral
Upwards from the warm clay
Cobwebs reflect interconnectedness quite nicely. If the rest of this part is a Yeats hommage, I tip my hat to you sir. The notion of circles and spirals were integral in his symbolism (see "The Second Coming"). You are implying how music can lift a soul from the plain and natural (the clay) to the spirit world above, into the upper spheres of understanding.
And pronounce:

?You are a man, yet you weep like woman, so I shall call you neither.?
You are implying animal instinct here, that the carnal is aroused.
I grip the plastic arms of a black, high-back chair,
And listen:For me, the chair is what holds you, what keeps you together. The fact that it is of plastic reveals it is fake and the blackness and height of it reflect its overbearingness.

The vibrations
Flow through the space
Between time and I.
Ah, to muse on music, one must muse about time and how it is the key to music. Quickly (im)mortality is what first comes to one's mind.
I, the Great Machine,
The maker of an Earth,
Artificer of dust,
And herald:
Creation is the ultimate power. Synthesis is addictive, the power to create yields also that to destroy (a return to dust, as well as to a natural, primal mindset).
?You are vile, yet you wash hands in clean streams, so I shall call you neither.?

I hold on the sound, I hold on to it tight.
And, I kiss, through the slow-trickling emotions
That flee the final refuge of reality,
And listen:
If music was not fleeting, as love is, (I love how you use love as a metaphor, rather than the usual using a metaphor for love), we would not feel so passionate about it. It all revolves around our fear of eventually dying, the final awakening and cold water in the face of how feeble Man truly is.
The ether lays
A heavy hand
On heavy eyelids
And condemns the dead
For wearing the guises
Of the tear-struck, blood-stained,
And Living:
Ether is what figuratively puts us to "sleep". You may be discussing the greatest sleep, death, but I would think it's more of a reference to apathy.
?You are a bastard, yet you blame the whore,
so I shall not call you my son.?

I see this as a return to the philosophy of music. In music's paradox, it's powers of escape versus its imminent end render it a contradiction in itself; an insult to the purity of the creator's mind. Rejection certifies this, the last nail on the coffin, the signature of the death warrant.


Brilliant and full piece, my friend. While you master form, it is the stuff being said that really interests me. Consider form the silhouette of a sports car and content the motor underneath the hood. It's too bad such a great piece may slip under (or rather over) most writers here, as your message definetly deserves to be heard. Until next time,

Antoine
#5
?You are a man, yet you weep like woman, so I shall call you neither.? Love that line.
?You are vile, yet you wash hands in clean streams, so I shall call you neither.? enjoy that one as well..

I thought it was very intelligent, very interesting. I find the last part very interesting as well... Overall, good job, I always enjoy reading your stuff
#6
For the first two: ok.
For the second pair: thank you kindly.

a-user-name, glad you liked it - I aim to infer, educate, and entertain.

Antoine (or a suitable nickname, if you'd prefer), you seem to have gotten most of it. I won't actually explain the piece out-right (apparently, it takes the fun out of it), but the circles and spirals are an homage to my own beliefs, which pre-date Yeats quite a number of centuries. However, undoubtedly, the use of circles and spirals by poets has had an impact (I'm such a fanboy of Donne's "Valediction, Forbidding Mourning", it borders on disgusting; not to mention my minor obsession with Dante, which, by manner of how many variations of the same texts that I own, is disgusting) on the frequency and prestige I give to the shape (I even have form in which the text, by manner of syllables, creates a circle - I think TrigFunction was talking about giving it a go some day, and I'm still working on getting more proficient in writing to that style, and creating more mathematical/circular styles). It's quite an interesting thing to see how many archetypal objects take the shape of a circle or sphere... As for the love metaphor/"kiss" - it's something of a heavy verb. Both love and, in supplication, fear can be attributed to the verb, and the intent is to apply both. And, apathy's close enough - to be apathetic is just one form of being "dead" (yet, unshaken from the mortal coil, so to speak). Thanks for the crit - I honestly didn't know how people would receive this piece, but it's good to see that it's a thing taken warmly.
#7
getting to it now and will edit the crit into the post and I'll try to analyze something different out of it than pooch (though I also did pick up a bit of Yeat's like terminology) well, here we go:

I listen to Barber?s adagio for strings,
And listen: powerful, very powerful. Off of this it is evident that you are probably going to be using music and hearing as a primary theme maybe as a metaphore for something much grander and out of the ordinary? we shall see

The notes rustle
Like soft cobwebs
Around my circlets
Of understanding ? I'd just like to point out that you have a very excellent talent of being able to blend the etheral and real (general and specific) in almost perfect flow and corralation, a balance if you will
Little verses spiral
Upwards from the warm clay
And pronounce: To me, and I may be missing something, this isnt as important as it seems, I would like to think that this is a major step in the meaning... but alas, as of now I can only think that it is merely a stanza to set the stage for the meaning, a context for the idea and as far as that goes, its bloody brilliant

?You are a man, yet you weep like a woman, so I shall call you neither.?
Here is where I reach my first conclusion, and mind you this may be incredibly off or maybe even only part of the one you intended, that the music is symbolic of a sense of scattered belonging and, as alluded to in the previous stanza, understanding just out of reach

I grip the plastic arms of a black, high-back chair,
And listen:I <3 the repitition here by the by. And I feel the black plastic chair for either a false sense of truth (the chair symbolizing faux-security/understanding) or the rigid and uncomfortability of being trapped in a world that one doesnt understand (a world of 'music')

The vibrations
Flow through the space
Between time and I. ah time! an invaluable aspect to tie in with the setting of music.
I, the Great Machine,
The maker of an Earth,
Artificer of dust,
And herald:
wait just a second, I have another theory which I should have picked up on before: the narrator is the musician leading a life dedicated to the making of music which again symbolizes a lack of understanding, what is his purpose? what is his reason for living?

?You are vile, yet you wash hands in clean streams, so I shall call you neither.?
same as before really, I could say a bunch about this though and I'll elaborate if need be.

I hold on to the sound, I hold on to it tight.
And, I kiss, through the slow-trickling emotions
That flee the final refuge of reality, again, excellent mixture of the real and etheral, used in a beautiful way, very relateable. As for the meaning: The musician plays on in this world of incomprehensible playing and sound, the music that he is making, the world that he is crafting with his music.
And listen:

The ether lays
A heavy hand
On heavy eyelids
And condemns the dead
For wearing the guises
Of the tear-struck, blood-stained,
And Living:

?You are a bastard, yet you blame the *****,
so I shall not call you my son.?

The conclusion you make in this piece is, for lack of a better word, not-complete. In fact I dont see it as a conclusion at all, more of just a continuation of the weaving song, no closure. You build and build and build a great piece of writing but the ending just left me... dissapointed... unless that was the entire point, to demonstrate the monotony and never-ceasing song of the lonely muscian and world...

well, those are my two cents, take them as you will, i must say it was fun reading and attempting to attempt to find meaning.

EDIT: aww man, my crits will never be as good as Pooch's any chance you could look at my new (and only) one, its fairly traditional and just a minor excercize in repetitive stanza's, though I feel it is rather devoid of emotion and meaning when compared with this... you rule https://www.ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=398801
Last edited by lawloganza at Jul 23, 2006,
#9
lawloganza, I'll get to that sooner or later - I've been lazy today...

Close. I'd say that you're close. Probably the most important thing to realize is the music is existence, basically (whether you like the String Theory or the Renaissance idea of the Music of the Spheres). Thus, it is not that we are talking merely about music and the analysis of music, but there is a greater statement of human life itself - hence, that last line makes a bit more sense. Albeit, yes, there are intentional musical descriptions and, therefore, comments on the power of music, but what isn't quite so readily inferred is the nature of the first stanza. Essentially, the first stanza tells you who the speaker is in the quotations and, basically, tells you who the imperative "listen" is aimed at (yes, the intention is to be a plural imperative, but it's formed in such a way that it is open for one and all, but the true message only sinks in deeply with one).

(My apologies if there's a completely misplaced word or apparent lack of grammar in the above post; I'm about matched with pooch with hallucinations at this point, with the lack of sleep... )
#10
I owe you one if my recollection is correct.

Streamwood Metaphysic

The title stood out to me most in the entire piece, don't take that in a derogatory sense mind, to me it implies that the piece will take on a rights-of-passage undertone. And perhaps in conjunction with the first read, to me connotes that there is only one character analysing his own journey as it were.

I listen to Barber?s adagio for strings,
And listen:

The notes rustle
Like soft cobwebs
Around my circlets
Of understanding ?
Little verses spiral
Upwards from the warm clay
And pronounce:

I too like Ant get a sense of being lifted by the spirit of music here, I guess though too much emphasis is on the "upwards." To me clay is the most important, many instruments, past and present were made from clay, so to me this stanza leaves the impression it is about birth and the beginnings of events/life.

?You are a man, yet you weep like a woman, so I shall call you neither.?

Perhaps a self-condescending line?

I grip the plastic arms of a black, high-back chair,
And listen:

The vibrations
Flow through the space
Between time and I.
I, the Great Machine,
The maker of an Earth,
Artificer of dust,
And herald:

To me this sounds like the view point of an inanimate object, perhaps of the instrument itself, were it not for the opening "grip the plastic arms..." Perhaps its reflecting the amalgamation of instrument and being to become one force. I just keep getting a sense that the grandure imagery of space and later on ether, is meant to be just an elaboration from a menial and trivial basis, such as the creation and passage of a single life, among every other living thing.

?You are vile, yet you wash hands in clean streams, so I shall call you neither.?

For every high there is a low.

I hold on to the sound, I hold on to it tight.
And, I kiss, through the slow-trickling emotions
That flee the final refuge of reality,
And listen:

The ether lays
A heavy hand
On heavy eyelids
And condemns the dead
For wearing the guises
Of the tear-struck, blood-stained,
And Living:

?You are a bastard, yet you blame the *****,
so I shall not call you my son.?

Throughout this piece I get a sense of desperation and lonliness, a guitar is among the most emotional of instruments and this stanza to me reflects the musings of a dying man, on his life, or lack there of, realising he has been dead inside for some time, and thus just slips away unknown and unloved. Effectively disowning himself from his son also. Probably the most noble act this character has endeavoured upon. I guess I sense this since many poets lived a secluded and somewhat withdrawn existance.

Overall this was a good piece, that I felt carried alot of emotion, the writing and structure was also top-notch.


peACE
Steve
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.