#1
Inspired by a rant in Chuck Palahniuk's Lullaby.
Crits returned.
If you post a link.


These Media-holics, These Quiet-ophobics.

It started with silence.
Of this I'm sure.
The way the wind moved
Through his fingers,
I'm sure it was sublime.

But his creation couldn't,
They still can't take any
From the silence,
From the still.

So they built them larger,
They built them better,
Until the hush
Could not be heard.

The culture of denial,
The denial of peace.

Digging holes into their head
Drilling far as one could go.
Bringing whole new meaning
To a modern day torture.

The terrorists of sound;
Bombing sidewalks with their words.

A passerby, a victim.

No one is safe
From the croon of a bass
Echoing from hollowed pits
Filled with magnets.
Pulsating.
120 beats per minute,
240 beats per two.

Stop the noise,
Stop the car.
Windows rolled.
Minds raped,
Minds murdered.
Stop the noise.
Stop the car.

Catastrophe in noise.
Catastrophe in sound.

I'm sure there was a point in life
Where sound wasn't supreme.
But we're trapped within a speaker hub,
Preserved within a rhythm.

The never-ending two step,
Eternal techno bliss.
#2
Quote by pete
The terrorists of sound;
Bombing sidewalks with their words.

A passerby, a victim.

No one is safe
From the croon of a bass
Echoing from hollowed pits
Filled with magnets.
Pulsating.
120 beats per minute,
240 beats per two.

Stop the noise,
Stop the car.
Windows rolled.
Minds raped,
Minds murdered.
Stop the noise.
Stop the car.

Catastrophe in noise.
Catastrophe in sound


The above part really stuck out as strong to me. Quite poetic and brash at the same time. Everything else sort of paled in comparison... to be honest, it wasn't really interesting... it was just sort of dragging along. The gimmicks in the above section were enough to set it apart and really polish the ideas you had going, where everything else was just bland poetry. The flow was nice through out, Oh and I hate the first stanza with a passion... it terribly boring, doesn't grab my attention at all.

yeah on re-read, everything but the section I highlighted could have been written by anyone on a day of walking around... they're not grouped well, they're just words on a page which paint a picture, but not one I'll remember because it isn't an interesting picture... there is nothing that sticks out.

Hope it all makes sense.

-zC
#3
These Media-holics, These Quiet-ophobics.

It started with silence.
Of this I'm sure.
a pause for reassurance.
not certain i like this.

The way the wind moved
Through his fingers,
I'm sure it was sublime.
another pause to be "sure".
the intro is bloated by all this certainty.


But his creation couldn't,
couldn't what?
if this is refering back
toward the moving through his fingers,
the punctuation at the end of the first line
is pointing in the wrong direction.
if not, i have no clue what you're on about, here.

They still can't take any
i couldn't care less that i don't know who They are.
but it's annoying as hell that any is undefined.

From the silence,
From the still.

So they built them larger,
They built them better,
Until the hush
Could not be heard.
This is starting to go somewhere, finally.

The culture of denial,
The denial of peace.
i like the transfer, here using denial.
but it's weak because you never really had any momentum.


Digging holes into their head
Drilling far as one could go.
Bringing whole new meaning
To a modern day torture.
i'm not overwhelmed by this, but it add to the pace.

The terrorists of sound;
Bombing sidewalks with their words.

A passerby, a victim.

No one is safe
From the croon of a bass
croon feels like the wrong word here.
to me that word suggests baritone or even tenor, not bass.

Echoing from hollowed pits
Filled with magnets.
Pulsating.
120 beats per minute,
240 beats per two.

Stop the noise,
Stop the car.
Windows rolled.
this line stands out like a sore thumb.
you do this repetitive start to the lines before and after.
this is a singleton, so that brings attention to it.
but it isn't anything worthy of that special attention.

Minds raped,
Minds murdered.
Stop the noise.
Stop the car.

Catastrophe in noise.
Catastrophe in sound.
i see the continuation of the pairing pattern
but i have to wonder if you really need to continue it here.
maybe a Travesty or a Calamity or w/e to replace one of the Catastrophes.


I'm sure there was a point in life
Where sound wasn't supreme.
But we're trapped within a speaker hub,
Preserved within a rhythm.

The never-ending two step,
Eternal techno bliss.


i enjoyed reading this even though you did your best to turn me off at the start.
tighten up the beginning so you have some momentum to carry it through the slower parts.

no link, just pay it forward to a random.
read a few pieces. crit one if you find it worth your time.
and where the hell is my sandwich, dude?

cheers,
SYK
Meadows
Quote by Jackal58
I release my inner liberal every morning when I take a shit.
Quote by SK8RDUDE411
I wont be like those jerks who dedicate their beliefs to logic and reaosn.
Last edited by SomeoneYouKnew at May 28, 2008,
#4
i shall return to this.
i'm quite fond of it on the first speed read, though.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#5
if i were you, i definitely wouldn't have elaborated on the inspiration behind this. be confident in yourself, you're a good writer.

as far as my opinion on this goes, i'll stick to my previous statement; i'm quite fond of this one. i don't like how it seems so unstable at the beginning; it took awhile to grasp the meaning. eh, i'm an impatient person though, lol.

thanks for the enjoyable read, man. i'll be looking for yours next time, this is good stuff.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.