#1
This is different... I was really really bored, not really my type of writing. It'll probably seem forced or predictable, or anything like that... Nonetheless, C4C ! (leave link)

Eyes through blinds’ cracks get a limited view
of what could be a knife with no handle;
A scandal, or random high-pitched hysteria
that would make my half-deaf ears bleed in stereo.
Still pulling off earwax, while creeping down the stares,
my slippers made more noise than an airplane’s descent.
Almost a hundred per cent cured, I looked through
the building’s glassed front door.

Still a limited view, due to weak illumination,
the street-lamp wouldn’t lighten more than three cars.
One of them wouldn’t take me far, because it contained
more rust than the stains on my night t-shirt.
Suddenly, a six foot tall guy passes from left to right,
carrying a girl on his arms, who seemed tragically hurt.
I immediately thought: “street fight!”, but a light made me
reconsider opening the building’s glassed front door.

It looked like fire from the reflection of the cars’ windshields,
and all of the sudden, the street looked like a war battlefield.
I estranged the fact I couldn’t ear the screams,
until I noticed something had deafened me for good.
The fire made me see a whole lot better now,
but the action was occurring down the street.
I thought: “this is it”, as I pressed the latch.
The building’s glass front door wouldn’t protect me anymore.

I had feared sharing a monologue, not to enter in shock
and destroy this bravery shell; it was all I had left...
I considered a theft gone wrong. (Extremely farfetched...)
fuck it! I didn’t hear the front door close…


It was official, I had lost a sense, but on the bright side
it made me abstract from the surrounding chaos.
I looked fearless on the outside, but it was fear itself
that kept me off from shaking, enduring my shell.
I could see desperation on the tears and open mouths
of the people running on the opposite direction
I was walking, with the soundtrack of solitude in my mind,
while leaving home behind to face an unknown threat.

The park on the end of the street was already on fire,
and the fire-fighters were nowhere to be seen,
although their red lights seemed to shine here and there,
as I dared to approach the core of calamity.
Involving myself in all the serenity I could,
I walked more careful now, because a quick analysis
said my night “suit” looked a lot like a magnet to injuries.
I got rid from the slippers and started running barefoot,
like a small child unconscious of danger.
A stranger tried to intercept me, but nothing would at this time.
I passed the burning building, it was the last of the street,
and at my left I witnessed what I had predicted before.

It WAS a war battlefield after all!
Masked men were shooting at anything that moved,
and there were some members of the military police
fighting back; defending our flag! This made adrenaline
pump in my veins like never before! What a rush!

I turned my back just to see hand grenades being thrown
to my own building, my own floor, my own bedroom…
Disappointment made everything just fade into darkness.
I simply laid on the sidewalk and cried until sleep.

When I woke up,
I gazed a scenario of destruction.
The buildings burnt to the outline,
and a deserted view of lifelessness;
nothingness...

"Is this the type of salvation You granted me?"
Last edited by seventh_angel at Jul 18, 2008,
#2
dont understand it. i think you go to far with it. to complex. i stopped reading halfway thru cuz my brain hurts now.
#4
Hey kiddo. I'm back. So, here's the deal:

I see exactly what (s)he is saying. It is hard to follow. The images are what really does it in. They are all quite strongly presented, you knew what you wanted to convey and did that fairly well. I followed it... but some of it I missed. Like, the glass shell/door... what does that have to do with the piece? You could lose that and still have the same ideas, and it would seem more emotive and less drawn out. It may have some inner meaning to you, but to the reader, it just sort of gets in the way. I think the main lesson to take from this piece is learning to cut it down. You have a LOT of descriptions in here... and that can work, but when the description starts getting in the way of hte piece, you have a problem. I think you can understand what I'm getting at. If not, just PM me and I'll try to explain. I think if you cut this down and make it "punchier" where everything has more impact and each description that is left in has a point, it won't feel so overdone.

Praises: Great use of internal rhymes throughout... really gave a bouncy feeling and urgency to the piece that helped make it more believable. Also, your first stanza was fantastic. I had REALLY high hopes after reading that one. It was good. That could almost be a piece on its own, if it had more of a closing.

Anyways, thanks for getting to mine. PM me if you have any questions

-zC
#5
I really like these lyrics. I think at some point the imagery gets a bit exhausting but that's just me personally. There are some parts I would have left on (the middle italicized part and the verse directly after seem a bit out of place to me I don't know why). Over all they are very vivid and I think they a quite good. What type of music were you thinking this would go to? I could see it being an acoustic folk song, it seems very poetic in that way. Keep up the good work!
#6
Quote by seventh_angel


Eyes through blinds’ cracks get a limited view
of what could be a knife with no handle;
Cool imagery, but I don't know where you're going with it.
A scandal, or random high-pitched hysteria
that would make my half-deaf ears bleed in stereo.
Still pulling off earwax, while creeping down the stares,
my slippers made more noise than an airplane’s descent.
Something about this line seemed off to me. Not sure what...
Almost a hundred per cent cured, I looked through
the building’s glassed front door.

Still a limited view, due to weak illumination,
This is not an enjoyable line for me. The 'due to' just killed it, I thought.
the street-lamp wouldn’t lighten more than three cars.
One of them wouldn’t take me far, because it contained
This was much better, good development.
more rust than the stains on my night t-shirt.
Suddenly, a six foot tall guy passes from left to right,
carrying a girl on his arms, who seemed tragically hurt.
I immediately thought: “street fight!”, but a light made me
reconsider opening the building’s glassed front door.
Repeating the 'glassed front door' phrase? I hope it has some significant meaning...

It looked like fire from the reflection of the cars’ windshields,
and all of the sudden, the street looked like a war battlefield.
I would have preferred a 'fire' simile, rather than the reference to a battlefield here.
I estranged the fact I couldn’t ear the screams,
until I noticed something had deafened me for good.
The fire made me see a whole lot better now,
but the action was occurring down the street.
I thought: “this is it”, as I pressed the latch.
This is what? I really don't know what you're (in the context of the story) thinking...
The building’s glass front door wouldn’t protect me anymore.

I had feared sharing a monologue, not to enter in shock
This was an awesome line.
and destroy this bravery shell; it was all I had left...
I considered a theft gone wrong. (Extremely farfetched...)
fuck it! I didn’t hear the front door close…


It was official, I had lost a sense, but on the bright side
it made me abstract from the surrounding chaos.
I looked fearless on the outside, but it was fear itself
that kept me off from shaking, enduring my shell.
Well put.
I could see desperation on the tears and open mouths
of the people running on the opposite direction
I was walking, with the soundtrack of solitude in my mind,
while leaving home behind to face an unknown threat.

The park on the end of the street was already on fire,
and the fire-fighters were nowhere to be seen,
although their red lights seemed to shine here and there,
as I dared to approach the core of calamity.
Involving myself in all the serenity I could,
I walked more careful now, because a quick analysis
said my night “suit” looked a lot like a magnet to injuries.
I got rid from the slippers and started running barefoot,
like a small child unconscious of danger.
A stranger tried to intercept me, but nothing would at this time.
I passed the burning building, it was the last of the street,
and at my left I witnessed what I had predicted before.
This stanza was mostly just storytelling. Brighten it up a bit, maybe.

It WAS a war battlefield after all!
Now I get the 'battlefield' thing before. Ignore that.
Masked men were shooting at anything that moved,
and there were some members of the military police
fighting back; defending our flag! This made adrenaline
pump in my veins like never before! What a rush!

I turned my back just to see hand grenades being thrown
to my own building, my own floor, my own bedroom…
Disappointment made everything just fade into darkness.
I simply laid on the sidewalk and cried until sleep.
IMO, this is where the piece should end, forget the rest of it.

When I woke up,
I gazed a scenario of destruction.
The buildings burnt to the outline,
and a deserted view of lifelessness;
nothingness...

"Is this the type of salvation You granted me?"


I enjoyed it a lot. Not your best, but definitely solid. Not a lot you could do to fix it up. I'll save the c4c for later... I'm trying to pull something really powerful together, might take a while.
#7
Zach - I understand what you are saying and I agree. I was not in my "confort zone" whan I wrote this. It's just not my thing so I believe it is usual to fall in these "minor" mistakes. Your comments are always appreciated ^^

andrewn - It's not supposed to be a song. Thank you for your comment.

Skaliveson - You know your critique is always welcomed
#8
Quote by seventh_angel
This is different... I was really really bored, not really my type of writing. It'll probably seem forced or predictable, or anything like that... Nonetheless, C4C ! (leave link)

Eyes through blinds’ cracks get a limited view
of what could be a knife with no handle;
A scandal, or random high-pitched hysteria
that would make my half-deaf ears bleed in stereo.
Still pulling off earwax, while creeping down the stares,
my slippers made more noise than an airplane’s descent.
Almost a hundred per cent cured, I looked through
the building’s glassed front door.(nothing overly generic going on here, and good imagery)

Still a limited view, due to weak illumination,
the street-lamp wouldn’t lighten more than three cars.
One of them wouldn’t take me far, because it contained
more rust than the stains on my night t-shirt.
Suddenly, a six foot tall guy passes from left to right,
carrying a girl on his arms, who seemed tragically hurt.(don't like the word tragic)
I immediately thought: “street fight!”, but a light made me
reconsider opening the building’s glassed front door.(glassed or glass?)

It looked like fire from the reflection of the cars’ windshields,
and all of the sudden, the street looked like a war battlefield.
I estranged the fact I couldn’t ear the screams,
until I noticed something had deafened me for good.
The fire made me see a whole lot better now,
but the action was occurring down the street.
I thought: “this is it”, as I pressed the latch.
The building’s glass front door wouldn’t protect me anymore.(I wish war battlefield was worded differently)

I had feared sharing a monologue, not to enter in shock
and destroy this bravery shell; it was all I had left...
I considered a theft gone wrong. (Extremely farfetched...)
fuck it! I didn’t hear the front door close…
(Like this bit)

It was official, I had lost a sense, but on the bright side
it made me abstract from the surrounding chaos.
I looked fearless on the outside, but it was fear itself
that kept me off from shaking, enduring my shell.
I could see desperation on the tears and open mouths
of the people running on the opposite direction
I was walking, with the soundtrack of solitude in my mind,
while leaving home behind to face an unknown threat.(Im still involved and like it)

The park on the end of the street was already on fire,
and the fire-fighters were nowhere to be seen,
although their red lights seemed to shine here and there,
as I dared to approach the core of calamity.
Involving myself in all the serenity I could,
I walked more careful now, because a quick analysis
said my night “suit” looked a lot like a magnet to injuries.
I got rid from the slippers and started running barefoot,
like a small child unconscious of danger.
A stranger tried to intercept me, but nothing would at this time.
I passed the burning building, it was the last of the street,
and at my left I witnessed what I had predicted before.(suspenseful)

It WAS a war battlefield after all!
Masked men were shooting at anything that moved,
and there were some members of the military police
fighting back; defending our flag! This made adrenaline
pump in my veins like never before! What a rush!( I was hoping for 9/11 not a war, lol, I thought that's where it was going, I don't like the word war.)

I turned my back just to see hand grenades being thrown
to my own building, my own floor, my own bedroom…
Disappointment made everything just fade into darkness.(disappointment isn't strong enough)
I simply laid on the sidewalk and cried until sleep.

When I woke up,
I gazed a scenario of destruction.
The buildings burnt to the outline,
and a deserted view of lifelessness;
nothingness...

"Is this the type of salvation You granted me?"

Nice ending


I liked most of it aside from a few boring words. If there was a book written like this, I guarantee I'd read it. Lovely story. 9.7/10

Maybe a new title?


Crit mine in sig, either of em.
#10
Quote by seventh_angel
This is different... I was really really bored, not really my type of writing. It'll probably seem forced or predictable, or anything like that... Nonetheless, C4C ! (leave link)

Eyes through blinds’ cracks get a limited view
of what could be a knife with no handle;
This is too wordy and doesn't compliment the nice introduction.
A scandal, or random high-pitched hysteria
I don't like the rhyme here of "handle" and "scandal" - I personally despise the word scandal.
that would make my half-deaf ears bleed in stereo.
Still pulling off earwax, while creeping down the stares,
my slippers made more noise than an airplane’s descent.
Almost a hundred per cent cured, I looked through
the building’s glassed front door.
This was good, but not special either. It sets the scene well, which is of course imperative, but you could of possibly wowed me more. I've seen some wonderful stuff from you.

Still a limited view, due to weak illumination,
the street-lamp wouldn’t lighten more than three cars.
The term "wouldn't" turns this into a very conversational pattern. The whole sentence feels forced actually.
One of them wouldn’t take me far, because it contained
Contained is an ugly word.
more rust than the stains on my night t-shirt.
Honest but not worded very elegantly. Maybe thats what gives its ironic charm?
Suddenly, a six foot tall guy passes from left to right,
carrying a girl on his arms, who seemed tragically hurt.
I immediately thought: “street fight!”, but a light made me
reconsider opening the building’s glassed front door.
Scene setting here again but with no descretion for your abilities.


It looked like fire from the reflection of the cars’ windshields,
This is where your imagery becomes more adept and visible.
and all of the sudden, the street looked like a war battlefield.
"war" and "battlefield", is that really necessary?
I estranged the fact I couldn’t ear the screams,
"ear the screams"... I know what you are trying to do but I don't think I like it.
until I noticed something had deafened me for good.
Simple termanology here of "for good" is slightly drowsy and boring.
The fire made me see a whole lot better now,
but the action was occurring down the street.
I thought: “this is it”, as I pressed the latch.
The building’s glass front door wouldn’t protect me anymore.
This last line is nice but leading up to it, it just feels like you added them in because you had to. Theres no tension present at all.

I had feared sharing a monologue, not to enter in shock
and destroy this bravery shell; it was all I had left...
I considered a theft gone wrong. (Extremely farfetched...)
fuck it! I didn’t hear the front door close…

This was good. I thought so because of how weird it was, this was your story and you are telling me it. Its original to you and only you.

It was official, I had lost a sense, but on the bright side
it made me abstract from the surrounding chaos.
I looked fearless on the outside, but it was fear itself
that kept me off from shaking, enduring my shell.
"Enduring my shelf" is a unlikely term.
I could see desperation on the tears and open mouths
"and open mouths" doesn't flow very with the preceding and following lines.
of the people running on the opposite direction
I was walking, with the soundtrack of solitude in my mind,
while leaving home behind to face an unknown threat.
Everything except "unkown threat" I really liked.

The park on the end of the street was already on fire,
and the fire-fighters were nowhere to be seen,
although their red lights seemed to shine here and there,
as I dared to approach the core of calamity.
"core of calamity" adds a very sing-songey approach which is quite refreshing but very perculiar.
Involving myself in all the serenity I could,
Is this supposed to be a stark contrast to what the rest of this piece talks about?
I walked more careful now, because a quick analysis
said my night “suit” looked a lot like a magnet to injuries.
The "magnet" idea is excellent but could maybe be worded better.
I got rid from the slippers and started running barefoot,
"rid from" or rid of....?
like a small child unconscious of danger.
This feels like a childs line. "unconscious of danger" feels childish, which, in a way is very qircky as it links with the theme of the line.
A stranger tried to intercept me, but nothing would at this time.
I passed the burning building, it was the last of the street,
and at my left I witnessed what I had predicted before.

It WAS a war battlefield after all!
Capatalization would of worked better if you used italics instead. But maybe you used it this way to describe the tall buildings? You could use both capatals and italics to syndicate the towering, burning buildings, ready to collapse.
Masked men were shooting at anything that moved,
and there were some members of the military police
fighting back; defending our flag! This made adrenaline
pump in my veins like never before! What a rush!
This is where becomes interesting. Not because the story takes on a new direction, but because your feelings are portrayed to be different now.

I turned my back just to see hand grenades being thrown
to my own building, my own floor, my own bedroom…
Disappointment made everything just fade into darkness.
"Disappointment"... why?
I simply laid on the sidewalk and cried until sleep.
Odd way to lay this sentence out.

When I woke up,
I gazed a scenario of destruction.
The buildings burnt to the outline,
and a deserted view of lifelessness;
nothingness...

"Is this the type of salvation You granted me?"
Good ending, although its very recognizable and predictable, which doesn't suit the scenario you have painted. It also ended too soon. It became very interesting at the end and then it cut off, I don't know how you are truly feeling.


Overall, I enjoyed reading this more than I thought I would - I don't enjoy reading large pieces, I'm lazy - but this was very engaging and thoroughly detailed.

Its simplistic problems:
- no tension building
- too long
- not personal enough
- not enough interesting metaphors
- not enough of what you do best

Nice work though.

Digitally Clean