#1
I was at the bus station today.
I got on the non direct bus,
the one that takes me to see the different worlds,
the one that shows me the social differences,
the one that only costs a pound, diesel included.
Yet the bus driver looks at me and says:
“Is this what you want, son? It’ll take you 4 hours to get into town.”
I know what I want.
So I didn’t answer, just flung him the coins,
time was spinning already and my head was ticking,
tack… tick tack.

It’s actually the girl in the corner making that noise
with her bracelets,
she’s not too bad, only five inches too wide
and a I can see the black roots of her
fake blonde hair. She’s listening to something
with more bass than ball or trebles, I could hear
the drums before I got on the bus.
Small tits too.

My eyes cross the passage and find an empty seat,
it’s beside grandma Joan, or whatever she’s called.
Maria or Vicenta, I live in Spain after all.
She’s wearing her best fur, atop her wrinkled hide,
the worst kind,
thank god she doesn’t show it, that would be
too much for the mind.
She’s reading love in times of cholera so she must be wise,
back when she was younger
she would have been a better fuck than posh spice
over there in the seat opposite me.

Posh isn’t up to much at all, her make up is taking
up all her attention and mustering all that up is an effort.
Tight jeans that give me the pains and bigger tits than
the socially detached girl and the mentally deranged lady.
She got enough plastic on her body to burn the planet,
sink titanic
and give Berlusconi some in case his plastic surgeon cancels.

I look out the window,
only five minutes gone, the journey looks
long, I’ve got nowhere to go
nobody to keep me stuck in here,
so technically I’m in between goodbye and hello.

I look out the window again and the bus comes to a halt.
A young boy gets on, barely sixteen, but he’s got two
piercings and his girlfriend looks like she’s been pregnant for a while.
I’m not criticizing though, I wish I had sex with ladies like her,
and not the sorry excuses I live up to,
right hand over the sink and left one when I’m tired.

There are fascist slogans on the walls of the bus-stop,
I just got off. I couldn’t take the atmosphere in the bus
any more. I’m lost.

I have no idea where I am and nobody on the street has noticed.
I could get naked, play a guitar with my toes and shout things at
the whores and the street wouldn’t notice. Only the street lights.

The fascists are 400000 already and they want me to call.
I would, if I could but I lost my phone on the bus.
It’s amazing, what numbers can do. Fifteen gets you slapped
and 16 gets you booze. 13 is when you lose and fourteen is
non
des
cript.
Luckily enough 400000 is
all
bull
shit.

I’m at the stop on the other side of the road and my head
is still ticking
tack... tick tack
the clock stopped spinning, it’s fixed to a pole.
I hope there’s an earthquake so that I can have the bench to myself.
The fat lady beside me would be hard to move otherwise
and I haven’t made an effort since breakfast.

I hop on the bus, the direct one, no stops,
no passengers but me, only the driver for a companion.
He stops and stares:


“Well Son, it looks like you know what you want,
the easy way out, no questions asked, only an arm and a leg
diesel not included-

right?
Last edited by confusius at Jun 14, 2008,
#3
Ok first off
I dont expect a crit in return for this one as I myself am too lazy at the moment to take the time.
I just feel the need to let you know what an amazing piece this one is.
Best i've read all day by far.
Keep up the good work =)

P.S
I may come back to this when im done crashing from all the energy I consumed earlier today as it is definately worth coming back to.
#6
I was at the bus station today.
I got on the non direct bus,
the one that takes me to see the different worlds,
the one that shows me the social differences,
the one that only costs a pound, diesel included.
Yet the bus driver looks at me and says:
“Is this what you want, son? It’ll take you 4 hours to get into town.”
I know what I want.
So I didn’t answer, just flung him the coins,
time was spinning already and my head was ticking,
tack… tick tack.
for my read, spinning and ticking were flipped.
i'm accustomed to hearing
time was ticking away
and my head was spinning.
flipping them gives it a lot of power.
the final line dilutes that.
you use it again, later.
so maybe, just maybe you'll choose to keep it, though personally i suggest not.
incidentally, i would say tick tock. regional differences again, i imagine.


It’s actually the girl in the corner making that noise
with her bracelets,
she’s not too bad, only five inches too wide
and a I can see the black roots of her
fake blonde hair. She’s listening to something
with more bass than ball or trebles, I could hear
ball? what is that?
the drums before I got on the bus.
Small tits too.

My eyes cross the passage and find an empty seat,
it’s beside grandma Joan, or whatever she’s called.
Maria or Vicenta, I live in Spain after all.
She’s wearing her best fur, atop her wrinkled hide,
the worst kind,
thank god she doesn’t show it, that would be
too much for the mind.
She’s reading love in times of cholera so she must be wise,
back when she was younger
she would have been a better fuck than posh spice
over there in the seat opposite me.

Posh isn’t up to much at all, her make up is taking
up all her attention and mustering all that up is an effort.
Tight jeans that give me the pains and bigger tits than
the socially detached girl and the mentally deranged lady.
She got enough plastic on her body to burn the planet,
sink titanic
and give Berlusconi some in case his plastic surgeon cancels.

I look out the window,
only five minutes gone, the journey looks
long, I’ve got nowhere to go
nobody to keep me stuck in here,
so technically I’m in between goodbye and hello.

I look out the window again and the bus comes to a halt.
A young boy gets on, barely sixteen, but he’s got two
piercings and his girlfriend looks like she’s been pregnant for a while.
I’m not criticizing though, I wish I had sex with ladies like her,
and not the sorry excuses I live up to,
ladies rather than girls felt odd, as did live up to.
right hand over the sink and left one when I’m tired.

There are fascist slogans on the walls of the bus-stop,
I just got off. I couldn’t take the atmosphere in the bus
any more. I’m lost.

I have no idea where I am and nobody on the street has noticed.
I could get naked, play a guitar with my toes and shout things at
the whores and the street wouldn’t notice. Only the street lights.

The fascists are 400000 already and they want me to call.
I would, if I could but I lost my phone on the bus.
It’s amazing, what numbers can do. Fifteen gets you slapped
and 16 gets you booze. 13 is when you lose and fourteen is
non
des
cript.
Luckily enough 400000 is
all
bull
shit.
i have no idea what you're on about with the numbers, teens or 400k.

I’m at the stop on the other side of the road and my head
is still ticking
tack... tick tack
the clock stopped spinning, it’s fixed to a pole.
I hope there’s an earthquake so that I can have the bench to myself.
The fat lady beside me would be hard to move otherwise
and I haven’t made and effort since breakfast. *an

I hop on the bus, the direct one, no stops,
no passengers but me, only the driver for a companion.
He stops and stares:
hearing stops twice at a moderate distance was slightly unpleasant.


“Well Son, it looks like you know what you want,
the easy way out, no questions asked, only an arm and a leg
diesel not included-

right?


good read. reasonably good story, interesting analogy for life. left.
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.
#7
Great!!!!!!!!!!! Awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's The Kind Of Lyrics I'm Always Looking For!!!!!!!!
Cool!!!
Funny!!!!
#9
You asked for it, Spaniard. Thus, I'm digging in and carrying around a hefty hammer. I'm going to nit-pick to my heart's content and generally try to rape this thing. We'll see what happens, I haven't read it yet.

Quote by confusius
I was at the bus station today.
I got on the non direct bus,
the one that takes me to see the different worlds,
the one that shows me the social differences,

The second "the one" line is implied in the first. If you are going to different worlds, you are going to see different cultures. Do something stronger here. Something that is going to be more telling and less "I already said this." I also absolutely abhor the opener. Do something better. Use your cigarette smoke thing you usually do or something... make it less bland.

the one that only costs a pound, diesel included.
Yet the bus driver looks at me and says:
“Is this what you want, son? It’ll take you 4 hours to get into town.”
I know what I want.

Drop the "yet." Leave the image, we don't need the extra "Hey, narrator here" comment. Just let us into it. Also, drop the "I know what I want." IMO, it takes us out of the story again. I know its supposed to be the "hard hitting statement" of the beginning, but I can't help but feel that it would be better if you let us view you as the hardass who knows what he's doing by just providing us with you giving hte bus driver the silent treatment.

So I didn’t answer, just flung him the coins,
time was spinning already and my head was ticking,
tack… tick tack.

Didn't like the ellipse. I've always been a fan of using staccato in these instances such as: tack. tick. tack. Personal choice... I just like the way it reads.

It’s actually the girl in the corner making that noise
with her bracelets,
she’s not too bad, only five inches too wide
and a I can see the black roots of her
fake blonde hair. She’s listening to something
with more bass than ball or trebles, I could hear
the drums before I got on the bus.
Small tits too.

This was class. I love the description. A man after my own heart... harsh, brash, true, and politically incorrect. I basically came. Only think I didn't like was "ball or trebles" but that's because I've never heard the term "ball" to describe music... but you are the music guy so I'll trust you.

My eyes cross the passage and find an empty seat,
it’s beside grandma Joan, or whatever she’s called.
Maria or Vicenta, I live in Spain after all.
She’s wearing her best fur, atop her wrinkled hide,
the worst kind,
thank god she doesn’t show it, that would be
too much for the mind.
She’s reading love in times of cholera so she must be wise,
back when she was younger
she would have been a better fuck than posh spice
over there in the seat opposite me.

This really does remind me of some of the things I've written. So harsh and blatantly true. Only thing I didn't like was "I live in Spain after all." Just let the piece speak for itself. Taking us out of the description was disruptive. Also, I'd say make "back when she was younger" and make it "in her prime." More concise and more kick.

Posh isn’t up to much at all, her make up is taking
up all her attention and mustering all that up is an effort.
Tight jeans that give me the pains and bigger tits than
the socially detached girl and the mentally deranged lady.
She got enough plastic on her body to burn the planet,
sink titanic
and give Berlusconi some in case his plastic surgeon cancels

This one wasn't nearly as good. Second line didn't make much sense, it just rambled. As far as socially detached and mentally deranged... I don't think you gave us enough to connect that to tiny tits and grandma garcia. It took me a few times through to even figure out who you were talking about. Still not entirely sure. The rest was ok... "burn the planet" felt a little too ott to really fit in with the rest of the "down to earth" descriptions. Sink titanic doesn't make any sense to me. Last was good... but I was already disenchanted with the stanza so it didn't hit for me.

I look out the window,
only five minutes gone, the journey looks
long, I’ve got nowhere to go
nobody to keep me stuck in here,
so technically I’m in between goodbye and hello.

This is really going downhill, hope you've got something saved up. This just didn't connect well with me. Sounds like someone contradicting himself. Like pointed rambling. It just didn't hit with any impact because you stretched out the idea too long. Make it one line "I'm between hello and goodbye, got no where to go." or something.

I look out the window again and the bus comes to a halt.
A young boy gets on, barely sixteen, but he’s got two
piercings and his girlfriend looks like she’s been pregnant for a while.
I’m not criticizing though, I wish I had sex with ladies like her,
and not the sorry excuses I live up to,
right hand over the sink and left one when I’m tired.

Better... bit not great. "Sorry excuses I live up too," I didn't get that. I do like the tongue in cheek of "ladies," the fact that lady describes someone respectable and she obviously isn't by most "standards." Love the implied idea of the last line, but the one before it really killed it for me.

There are fascist slogans on the walls of the bus-stop,
I just got off. I couldn’t take the atmosphere in the bus
any more. I’m lost.

Why? What atmosphere? You gave us nothing to go on as far as atmosphere. Maybe if you had said "people on the bus" I could give you some credit... but even then, up til now we didn't even know you were discontented. and the "I'm lost" is weak. C'mon man, reach out and give me something better than that.

I have no idea where I am and nobody on the street has noticed.
I could get naked, play a guitar with my toes and shout things at
the whores and the street wouldn’t notice. Only the street lights.

Fan-fucking-tastic.


The fascists are 400000 already and they want me to call.
I would, if I could but I lost my phone on the bus.
It’s amazing, what numbers can do. Fifteen gets you slapped
and 16 gets you booze. 13 is when you lose and fourteen is
non
des
cript.
Luckily enough 400000 is
all
bull
shit.

Eh, none of this struck for me. I've seen the numbers game used well. I'd throw away everything but: It’s amazing, what numbers can do. Fifteen gets you slapped
and 16 gets you booze.


I’m at the stop on the other side of the road and my head
is still ticking
tack... tick tack
the clock stopped spinning, it’s fixed to a pole.
I hope there’s an earthquake so that I can have the bench to myself.
The fat lady beside me would be hard to move otherwise
and I haven’t made an effort since breakfast.

I hop on the bus, the direct one, no stops,
no passengers but me, only the driver for a companion.
He stops and stares:


“Well Son, it looks like you know what you want,
the easy way out, no questions asked, only an arm and a leg
diesel not included-

right?

Drop the "right" The rest is solid.



Very entertaining. Very very solid. Could still use some tightening up in places. And honestly the middle dropped off a lot. Need to keep a more dense level of wit if you are going to write like this. Seriously though, this reminds me so much of a piece I posted a while back. Same style of narration and tone. I'm loving it.

Very solid piece Kyrl. Tighten it up, give it some more punch in the middle and you'll have something fantastic.

If you could, the latest in my sig. Also, I'd love for you to read the I=Ft=mv one in my sig... its the one that reminds me of this... let me know what you think in a Pm if you do. If not, cool.
#10
Tolja.

I'll make time for this, even if it's over msn.

I agree the middle goes a bit floopy but for me it didn't detract too much.

SanteEdit:

I was at the bus station today.
I got on the non direct bus,
non-direct reads better to me.
the one that takes me to see the different worlds,
the one that shows me the social differences,
the one that only costs a pound, diesel included.
Yet the bus driver looks at me and says:
“Is this what you want, son? It’ll take you 4 hours to get into town.”
I know what I want.
So I didn’t answer, just flung him the coins,
time was spinning already and my head was ticking,
tack… tick tack.

It’s actually the girl in the corner making that noise
with her bracelets,
she’s not too bad, only five inches too wide
and a I can see the black roots of her
fake blonde hair. She’s listening to something
with more bass than ball or trebles, I could hear
the drums before I got on the bus.
Small tits too.
Love this last line aside. It doesn't feel forced at all. I think it's because you didn't put in a comma here, it just made it seem like you blurted it out. Great execution.

My eyes cross the passage and find an empty seat,
it’s beside grandma Joan, or whatever she’s called.
Maria or Vicenta, I live in Spain after all.
She’s wearing her best fur, atop her wrinkled hide,
the worst kind,
thank god she doesn’t show it, that would be
too much for the mind.
She’s reading love in times of cholera so she must be wise,
back when she was younger
she would have been a better **** than posh spice
over there in the seat opposite me.
I wasn't a fan of the posh spice bit. Felt to immaturely cynical, if you catch my drift.

Posh isn’t up to much at all, her make up is taking
up all her attention and mustering all that up is an effort.
Tight jeans that give me the pains and bigger tits than
the socially detached girl and the mentally deranged lady.
She got enough plastic on her body to burn the planet,
sink titanic
Class A flow.
and give Berlusconi some in case his plastic surgeon cancels.

I look out the window,
only five minutes gone, the journey looks
long, I’ve got nowhere to go
nobody to keep me stuck in here,
so technically I’m in between goodbye and hello.
Apart from the last line quite a dreary amd dull part here, Kyrl.

I look out the window again and the bus comes to a halt.
A young boy gets on, barely sixteen, but he’s got two
piercings and his girlfriend looks like she’s been pregnant for a while.
I’m not criticizing though, I wish I had sex with ladies like her,
and not the sorry excuses I live up to,
right hand over the sink and left one when I’m tired.
Lol last line. You've got some quick wit, kid

There are fascist slogans on the walls of the bus-stop,
I just got off. I couldn’t take the atmosphere in the bus
any more. I’m lost.
Last sentence sucked ass imo.

I have no idea where I am and nobody on the street has noticed.
I could get naked, play a guitar with my toes and shout things at
the *****s and the street wouldn’t notice. Only the street lights.

The fascists are 400000 already and they want me to call.
I would, if I could but I lost my phone on the bus.
It’s amazing, what numbers can do. Fifteen gets you slapped
and 16 gets you booze. 13 is when you lose and fourteen is
non
des
cript.
Luckily enough 400000 is
all
bull
****.

I’m at the stop on the other side of the road and my head
is still ticking
tack... tick tack
the clock stopped spinning, it’s fixed to a pole.
I hope there’s an earthquake so that I can have the bench to myself.
The fat lady beside me would be hard to move otherwise
and I haven’t made an effort since breakfast.

I hop on the bus, the direct one, no stops,
no passengers but me, only the driver for a companion.
He stops and stares:


“Well Son, it looks like you know what you want,
the easy way out, no questions asked, only an arm and a leg
diesel not included-

right?

No probles with the rest, dug the almost predictable ending though. It's not new in any way but it works and that's what mattered here imo.
Last edited by Jammydude44 at Jun 15, 2008,
#11
I was at the bus station today.
I got on the non direct bus,
the one that takes me to see the different worlds,
the one that shows me the social differences,
the one that only costs a pound, diesel included.
The first two lines seemed too quick, too forced for me. I would break the idea up some .. Sort of like "I was at the bus station today, waiting on the non-direct bus. The one that takes me. . . diesel included. I got on, and the bus driver. . ." or something. I would also split the first stanza up here.

Yet the bus driver looks at me and says:
“Is this what you want, son? It’ll take you 4 hours to get into town.”
I know what I want.
So I didn’t answer, just flung him the coins,
time was spinning already and my head was ticking,
tack… tick tack.
Drop the yet. It implies that the bus driver is speaking when it's unexpected (i.e. if you said "I got on the bus, told him what I wanted, yet the bus driver. . ." I'm not sure how I feel about the "I know what I want." It made me stop reading, but then the next line came, and it sounded like it should be "I know what I want, so I didn't answer, just flung him the coins. . ." Is the tick tack supposed to be a clock? Every time I read it I think of the sticky stuff. It's still good that way though. I thought it added a comical, down-to-earth feeling sort of.

It’s actually the girl in the corner making that noise
with her bracelets,
she’s not too bad, only five inches too wide
and a I can see the black roots of her
fake blonde hair. She’s listening to something
with more bass than ball or trebles, I could hear
the drums before I got on the bus.
Small tits too.
I'm not sure what ball is in the sense you're using it. But it's a great stanza. Very nice and descriptive. I love the tone, and it.

My eyes cross the passage and find an empty seat,
it’s beside grandma Joan, or whatever she’s called.
Maria or Vicenta, I live in Spain after all.
She’s wearing her best fur, atop her wrinkled hide,
the worst kind,
thank god she doesn’t show it, that would be
too much for the mind.
She’s reading love in times of cholera so she must be wise,
back when she was younger
she would have been a better **** than posh spice
over there in the seat opposite me.
I like this stanza as well.. But I might make the third line "Maria, Vicenta, or something, I live in Spain after all."

Posh isn’t up to much at all, her make up is taking
up all her attention and mustering all that up is an effort.
Tight jeans that give me the pains and bigger tits than
the socially detached girl and the mentally deranged lady.
She got enough plastic on her body to burn the planet,
sink titanic
and give Berlusconi some in case his plastic surgeon cancels.
I might change this stanza to read something like "Posh isn't up to much at all. </br>Her makeup is taking all her attention, and mustering that up is an effort." I'm also not sure how plastic would sink the Titanic, or who Berlusconi is. lol But good imagery.

I look out the window,
only five minutes gone, the journey looks
long, I’ve got nowhere to go
nobody to keep me stuck in here,
so technically I’m in between goodbye and hello.
More of the other critique stuff.. Just rephrase some of it. Some of your breaks kill the flow which in turn kills the tone sometimes. Other times, it somehow added to the tone. But, I'd just look back at some of this and try to rephrase it.

I look out the window again and the bus comes to a halt.
A young boy gets on, barely sixteen, but he’s got two
piercings and his girlfriend looks like she’s been pregnant for a while.
I’m not criticizing though, I wish I had sex with ladies like her,
and not the sorry excuses I live up to,
right hand over the sink and left one when I’m tired.
"the sorry excuses I live up to" tripped me up and made me have to reread it a few times to get on to the rest of the poem. I also think the last line would be better placed if you switched it and 2nd to last.

There are fascist slogans on the walls of the bus-stop,
I just got off. I couldn’t take the atmosphere in the bus
any more. I’m lost.
Typo on the "in the bus" maybe? It seems awkward to me.. And I feel like anymore should be on the same line. "I'm lost." could be completely alone to make it hit harder...

I have no idea where I am and nobody on the street has noticed.
I could get naked, play a guitar with my toes and shout things at
the *****s and the street wouldn’t notice. Only the street lights.
Once again, phrasing could be better. I understand you can speak it however you want, but most people don't hear poetry, they read it. It may be just because I'm rereading this so many times I'm starting to lose the initial flow and feeling, but the sudden breaks are starting to trip me up. lol

The fascists are 400000 already and they want me to call.
I would, if I could but I lost my phone on the bus.
It’s amazing, what numbers can do. Fifteen gets you slapped
and 16 gets you booze. 13 is when you lose and fourteen is
non
des
cript.
Luckily enough 400000 is
all
bull
****.
I don't understand the importance of 13, 14, and 400000. I'm assuming it's because I'm from the US. lol I like the last bit of the stanza though "non. . . ****."

I’m at the stop on the other side of the road and my head
is still ticking
tack... tick tack
the clock stopped spinning, it’s fixed to a pole.
I hope there’s an earthquake so that I can have the bench to myself.
The fat lady beside me would be hard to move otherwise
and I haven’t made an effort since breakfast.

I hop on the bus, the direct one, no stops,
no passengers but me, only the driver for a companion.
He stops and stares:


“Well Son, it looks like you know what you want,
the easy way out, no questions asked, only an arm and a leg
diesel not included-

right?
Killer ending. That's all I can say. Superb. Awesome. Great job. =)