#1
Semi-old idea reconstructed.

The Corkscrew Effect

I crash in a doorway,
shattered.
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
and against the rise and fall contours of the yellow-brick road.

I end up benched in a park,
between two homos' and a hobo,
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
Filling out crosswords with confessions and oaths
for my jury, someday,
and I sit - still - rewriting;
"I cannot live without your guidance" star signs -
that reveal you'll never find love, no one really likes you
and there's always someone better than you.

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful. like;
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Last edited by The Hurt Within at Dec 6, 2007,
#2
This is such a different style than I remember you writing in, far more straight-forward and easily accessible.

I didn't understand the significance of between two 'homos' and a 'hobo', or why they were in apostrophes and not quotations.

The first half set the mood, see. The subtleties (like the newspaper headline, and the magazine expression) and my favourite lines A punch and a kick/or a limb and liver to the writer. The exhibits of writing and, well, the whole end, quite depressing. Hardhitting though, I actually gasped when I read the last line .

Question, is that first line supposed to be "The is" rather than "This is", and if so, why?

I'm absolutely lousy at pulling meaning out of poetry/lyric, but if this is about what I think it's about then I think it's fittingly ironic.

Sorry for all-over-the-place crit!
#4
Semi-old idea reconstructed.

The Corkscrew Effect

I crash in a doorway,
shattered and tired.
Great play on "crash". Maybe take out the "and tired" and just leave it as shattered, but put it on the same line? I just think it's sharper, and more hitting.
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
These lines were rather nice. The harsh "kick" compared to the softness of "limb" was appreciated here.
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
I have a problem with you skipping town, really because I haven't been told much of a motive for it. Kinda ruined this a bit, for me. Unless I'm missing something.
and against the "rise and fall" contours of the yellow-brick road.

I really disliked rise and fall, even though I kind of see it along with the meaning. I just dislike.

I end up benched in a park,
between two 'homos' and a 'hobo',
Eh. 50/50 line, this. Is it immature? Is it unnecessary? Is it actually rather clever? Personally, it's a thumbs down for me.
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
Eh. Really?
Filling out crosswords with confessions
for my juvenile jury, someday,
see exhibit A: evidence of my pen/scalpel collations...
and I sit - still - rewriting
"I can't live without your guidance" star signs;
that reveal you'll never find love, nobody really likes you
and you'll find luck in the reflection of a blade.
I'm with punch, disliked this part. Just... yeah. I mean you lose the connection here, it's just too far compared to the rest - just doesn't sit well after what's come beforehand. Any clarification on that comment just ask, I'll try again another day

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful....like;
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.
Mm. I think this is... different. Writing wise (especially the first half) I really liked it. Theme and topic wise (what I'm getting out of it) it seemed like a backward step.


I'd really love a comment on Rose in my sig, as it's one of a few things I've managed to write lately. Much appreciated if possible. Hope alls well Steve
#5
I crash in a doorway,
shattered and tired.
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.
brilliantly concrete for a change. the first two lines are great.

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
and against the "rise and fall" contours of the yellow-brick road.
there's a depressed wittiness here that i love (in the first line). 'rise and fall' has always been one of those phrases/words that rings and really makes a piece for me, and your line adequately uses it.

I end up benched in a park,
between two 'homos' and a 'hobo',
this is extremely clever. final two lines of this very different style that you built up here. unfortunately, at this point, the transformation is complete -- this is back to the hurt within.
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
the first two lines truly make the stanza. 'homos' as in homo-sapiens and a hobo? seems that you're straddling the line between filth and civilized kind.
Filling out crosswords with confessions
for my juvenile jury, someday,
i dont like this first line. it's rather over-the-top, but i understand what you're getting at.
see exhibit A: evidence of my pen/scalpel collations...
and I sit - still - rewriting
"I can't live without your guidance" star signs;
that reveal you'll never find love, nobody really likes you
and you'll find luck in the reflection of a blade.
the star signs really bothers me. the second to last line was profoundly simple and great and well placed. however, the term 'blade' really breaks the feel of this piece, and not in a good way.

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful....like;
ugh. any pleasant beauty in this piece was killed for me.
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.
these last four lines, i hate them.

i understood this piece. but the feel was not consistent throughout.

http://ultimate-guitar.com/forum/showthread.php?t=711154
#6

The Corkscrew Effect

I crash in a doorway,
shattered and tired.
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.

I thought the flow here was amazing, BUT it didn't fit with the content. I felt it was a rushed, steady pace, but you crash in the first line, so that was a bit contradicting for me. I liked the simple, yet beautiful language in this stanza, the third line was pretty clever and i loved it. I did not really like the fifth line, but that might be just me. I like how you ended the stanza, made me want to read on

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
and against the "rise and fall" contours of the yellow-brick road.

i thought the "s in the second line were pretty weird, even unnecessary. I like how you skip town in two lines, really puts some progression in the poem

I end up benched in a park,
between two 'homos' and a 'hobo',
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
Filling out crosswords with confessions
for my juvenile jury, someday,
see exhibit A: evidence of my pen/scalpel collations...
and I sit - still - rewriting
"I can't live without your guidance" star signs;
that reveal you'll never find love, nobody really likes you
and you'll find luck in the reflection of a blade.

why the 's around homo and hobo? totally unnecessary and it ruined it a bit for me. third and fourth lines are amazing. i didnt like the two lines after the crosswords line, it broke with the atmosphere you had going on IMO. "nobody really likes you" i didnt really like that and the last line was soooo cliché

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful....like;
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.

i thought this was better than the previous stanza. didn't like the second line though, the slash was so weird and then the '....like' ruined it a bit for me. i liked the last four lines though.




you know i liked this.
#7
Thanks guys, I will return crits tonight.

I've edited this slightly.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
#8


Suppose its time I attempt a critique on something the master of the domain has written. Sorry in advance if it sucks.

The Corkscrew Effect

I crash in a doorway,
shattered.
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.

I was with you up through punck and a kick, but then the flow was just hard to follow. Your descriptions up to this point have been spectacular though. I would have prefered 'a liver' instead of liver... also... I dunno those last three lines just seem dysfunctional to me... good ideas, just not presented as well as the previous ones.

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
and against the rise and fall contours of the yellow-brick road.

Good. Not a lot to add here. I like the way you presented the first line... you could have made it plain.. but kudos.

I end up benched in a park,
between two homos' and a hobo,
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
Filling out crosswords with confessions and oaths
for my jury, someday,

good up to this point... save for the last line just seems a little out of place. your ideas are so crisp and neatly presented... I just wish I could read it with the flow you intend. I'm not sure I like the last line though... seems tacked on almost, like you needed something to close off those ideas and connect with new ones, but weren't sure how.

and I sit - still - rewriting;
"I cannot live without your guidance" star signs -
that reveal you'll never find love, no one really likes you
and there's always someone better than you.

Depressing... angsty... true. Good work. If only there were a few more random references to strange objects, this sounds angsty enough to fit Cobain.

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful. like;
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.

These last four lines made the piece for me. Up til here, it was good... but this stanza made it great.


Sorry I didn't offer too much save for opinions. Obviously, you are much more eloquent than I, and much better with grammar. But, I gave you what I could.

A comment on Hypocrisy (in sig) would be appreciated if you get sometime.

peace and coconuts,

-zC
#9
A soggy slice of a somewhat sad and sorry life.
Some of this went over my head, but what didn't was a nice enough read.

Homophone here:
The newspaper covering my head bears the headline;

I'm not familiar with this expression:
or a limb and liver to the writer

People around me do not speak this way:
I end up benched in a park,
I like this. There's more economy than saying:
I end up sitting on a bench in a park,

This made me laugh, in a good way.
I think it's the signature line of this piece:
The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
(I'm assuming you meant to say This instead of The.)
Meadows
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#10
I crash in a doorway,
shattered.
The newspaper covering my head bares the headline;
the courtesans' killer caught and killed.
A punch and a kick
or a limb and liver to the writer
for being so quick...
but I am not dead, yet.

it took me a second read to get this but when i did, i liked it. i think you should keep the first two lines together though...it just broke the beginning to pieces for me and i didn't like that

So I skip town; across the "you'll never catch me" crease,
and against the rise and fall contours of the yellow-brick road.

I end up benched in a park,
between two homos' and a hobo,
drawing over smiles and expressions in magazines
with "don't touch me" frowns, and gloomy perspectives.
Filling out crosswords with confessions and oaths
for my jury, someday,
and I sit - still - rewriting;
"I cannot live without your guidance" star signs -
that reveal you'll never find love, no one really likes you
and there's always someone better than you.

i really REALLY like the yellow brick road reference here and the rest of it is just brilliant. the last three lines were just great.

The is a hand-job for the 21st Century,
rich man/poor men, pleasant but painful. like;
Castor sugar cataracts,
throat sweet infections
laceration lollipops
and cancer-chip cookies.


all in all this is what i like to call a smart piece...something new that has some thought and intelligence in it...i-like-that. great job steve as always
when was the last time you looked in the mirror?
because you've changed...