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Dark green. Like the glorious winter pines.
11 61%
Dark red. Like...um.....cherries. Yes, cherries. Because blood is cliche.
7 39%
Voters: 18.
#1
2 points.
If I screwed something up, as I likely did, kindly pm me :p.


For Dylon

-Make it real
-Stop Hiding behind metaphors
-Give your words life
-Your characters are one-dimensional
-Write about me, it will give you inspiration.

---Suggestions followed.

Here's to real life,
raise one full glass of bourbon
and two middle fingers.

You write to release,
I write because I'm bored.
Both are running from something.
You want real?
You want my life in words?

f*ck it.

I'm twenty and still lost about life,
I'm afraid of alcohol
I'm afraid of cigarettes
I'm a virgin
and I still can't decide if God is real

I write about things that don't exist;
I write to make them real,
so that for a moment I control someone's life;
even if it is an eighty year old grandma that doesn't exist.

If I sprawl my life on paper,
it becomes tangible,
it loses its metaphor
it impacts.
Suddenly I'm on a roller coaster of
half-assed emotions and a level of apathy
I can't shrug from my f*cking shoulders
and I'm left staring down the barrel of sixty years til death do me part.
I'm taken back to that moment in the woods,
forty-five in mouth...
to that moment where I decided I wasn't
cowardly enough to quit.

I'm taken back to my weak core,
back to the soft spot hiding beneath
witty and politically incorrect humor.
I'm left standing alone,
in front of a mirror and my harshest critic.
Only to realize my c*ck isn't as big as I'd like,
that I have too many freckles,
that my hair is the wrong color,
and I still have pancake nipples.


Anniversary Of A Birth (Claudette Equates With Breathe)

Your cavities and fork-tongued smiles
trace out the frosting, peeling through layers,
searching for the_wh*re_(cramped and
as anxious as you) huddled in
the inside hollow, her chapping lips
parted early for the ghost of ‘Surprise!’

The thick, slightly dry flesh
(now of dessert or décolleur?)
is freckled with pockets of held-breath,
sanguinely saved to blow back
against the wishing wind.
But the only thing that pinched-out-wicks
can do for you is to keep smoking
out that Hostess™ hostess;
(pastry hid and just a kid)
who’s such a perfect sweat-stained mirror
of all you Love and Leak.

Just wipe away the perspired blotches
(Salt from tears or ‘20s?)
and get lost in the I’s reflected back.
The Windex-streaks trailing down
spell out that one forgotten phrase:
“How old are you?”
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
Last edited by Fly, Marlowe at Jul 24, 2008,
#2
Green, was real and hard hitting. I didn't get anything from red and I think it was written with an idea in mind of what poetry "should be".
#6
Quote by samoo
Green, was real and hard hitting. I didn't get anything from red and I think it was written with an idea in mind of what poetry "should be".


+1



Vvvoted.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#7
you kidding, Z? I'm considering voting for yours :p
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
#10
I don't want your pity votes :p

(just your votes)
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
#12
Green.
A bunch of it connected with me personally... Which the red one did none of.
Also, the red one seemed like it was forced. It was just one big forced out metaphor for the sake of sounding deep... Tried too hard to be too elegant for its subject matter.
#13
Green...the third line made me laugh. I really like that character. It's something I can realate to.
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
#14
Good match, man. =]

So, by Dylan's math, 14-11, my win? :p

Seriously though, good job.
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
#16
I don't get it, red is poetry, and green is essentially a rant. There is nothing creative in it, he is just stating what is as blunt of possible. Nothing against the piece, I just dont understand.
#17
The point is that there is nothing creative in it. It was essentially me just spilling after Dylan (#1_synth) told me to stop writing so much creativity adn just let myself be on the page. I did, and that was what fell out.

Sometimes the best part about poetry is being able to connect with it, and a lot of people seemed to connect with the piece (as far as comments on it were concerned when I posted it). It wasn't supposed to be poetic or artsy, it was supposed to be life on a page.