#1
we were blades of grass.
wind sapping our flesh in crisp cold.
my brother swinging wild.
a broken scattered night in october
full of tasteless kids games, self pleasure and hallway performances.
we were pasts and presents
from first dates and tourniquet weaves.
"there is a sincerity in those stories'
to speak meanings,
existentially attention seeking feelings
of lessons learned, morals.
discrete move to self pity and martyrdom
heir to the union card?
your blue collar is studded with virginity and youth.
sniveling over tragic accidental injuries,
your family crying in resolute,
our Alien 3 action figures will never rub tails again.
so, one perfect piece held glue lined tempers.
a solemn walk through languid movements.
missed winter vacations.
my brother losing grip.
red eyed in content malice,
attention seeking feelings.
#4
Quote by pixiesfanyo
we were blades of grass.
wind sapping our flesh in crisp cold.
my brother swinging wild.
a broken scattered night in october
full of tasteless kids games, self pleasure and hallway performances.
we were pasts and presents
from first dates and tourniquet weaves.
"there is a sincerity in those stories'
to speak meanings,
existentially attention seeking feelings
of lessons learned, morals.

I am digging all of the contrasts you are presenting here...gives a nice 'one-two punch' kind of structure. Brings me reminders of being drunk in the dorms of college or something. The second to last line didn't roll off the tongue like I wanted it to. Maybe there should be a comma after existentially?

Quote by pixiesfanyo
discrete move to self pity and martyrdom
heir to the union card?
your blue collar is studded with virginity and youth.
sniveling over tragic accidental injuries,
your family crying in resolute,
our Alien 3 action figures will never rub tails again.
so, one perfect piece held glue lined tempers.
a solemn walk through languid movements.
missed winter vacations.
my brother losing grip.
red eyed in content malice,
attention seeking feelings.


should be 'moves' in first line here? Also, line-7 seemed a little out of place...maybe a little too Cedric-style for this piece. It just really caught me off guard. Other than that though, I feel this give a great overview of some kind of memory that any reader should be able to relate to, even if they may not be certain exactly what you are talking about. Always great to read you man, and look foward to more, as always.
#5
This was great. I especially like the wording here, how describe objects in detail and make them connect and together become something of more importance than objects and things. The only slight problem I had with the poem is the ending. To me, you could have ended the piece in a more... exciting way. I'm sorry for the lame comment, but overall I really liked this.

Also, nice Red House Painters reference.
#8
what else do i need to do to get more critiques?

umm, sexual favors??

we were blades of grass.
wind sapping our flesh in crisp cold. i don't like 'sapping' it sounds to sticky. if that makes any sense at all
my brother swinging wild.
a broken scattered night in october i think you ned a comma after broken.
full of tasteless kids games, self pleasure and hallway performances. hmm, tasteless... not sure if that's the best word choice. when i think of tasteless(or taste, rather), i think of it as an exclusively adult adjective. i feel like kids, and all their creations, are beyond the judgments of taste, and class, and all those borderline pretentious qualities. unless by taste you mean flavor. in which case, uh... you're odd. oh, and kids should be kids'
we were pasts and presents
from first dates and tourniquet weaves. i kind of wish you broke this into two stanzas. right here.
"there is a sincerity in those stories'
to speak meanings,
existentially attention seeking feelings
of lessons learned, morals.
discrete move to self pity and martyrdom
heir to the union card?
your blue collar is studded with virginity and youth.
sniveling over tragic accidental injuries,
your family crying in resolute,
our Alien 3 action figures will never rub tails again.
so, one perfect piece held glue lined tempers.
a solemn walk through languid movements.
missed winter vacations.
my brother losing grip.
red eyed in content malice,
attention seeking feelings.

sorry, i completely lost my train of thought. if you want, i can come back and finish when i'm more coherent. right now, though, i have nothing else to offer. sorry.
when birds flap their wings do the make believe they're really arms?