#1
drinking in the inspiration.

went to my friend
Michael's
house last night;
had a nice talk with his parents
and his sister
about the way things change
as you get older.
we decided that
when life's going good for you,
it's not your place to say that
you made it happen,
but rather accept the fact
that you just fell into the mix
of things,
at the right moment.
and when
the dumps are clumped
way up
over your head,
it's way too easy to look at things
like a sick man would,
on his death bed, or putting out
his last cigarette.

shortly after our conversation,
Michael and i
and the beer
and the smoke
moseyed our way
to a couple of bean bags
on his rooftop.
the depth of connection between
two people
can increase drastically,
while gazing the stars:
little white punctures in a big black canvas;
backlit by God's eyes.
like divine peepholes.

Michael, the drunk, asked me:
"I don't understand how, or why, you write poetry."
"I mean, it's just a bunch of....words."
"That's all they are; words."

i looked at him for a moment,
then cited a famous piece aloud,
right before i passed out.

"a single dog
walking alone on a hot sidewalk of
summer
appears to have the power
of ten thousand gods.

why is this?"

...

hours later
a bug had landed on my face
and temporarily woke me.
as i opened my eyes,
i saw Michael with a pen
and a notepad
and eyes that looked like
little white punctures
in a big black canvas;
backlit by God.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
Last edited by ottoavist at Aug 25, 2008,
#3
Damn, I was gonna go off on that guy. The ignorant, insecure bitch.
(sorry, people like that make my e-tourettes flare up)


Kent, beautiful stuff here. The only possible critique I could make would be on the presentation. It seems like you were in a rush to get these thoughts down, and then to get it posted (and I don't blame you, with something like this I'd do the same) without looking over it much. For this one I'm going to do something I don't do much.


went to a friend's(Michael)
house last night;
This didn't make for easy reading, especially as the first line. Something like
went to a friend's house
(Michael's) last night;

would do a world of good for me as the reader.

had a nice talk with his parents
and his sister
about the way things change
as you get older.
we decided that
when life's going good for you,
it's not your place to say that
you made it happen,
but rather accept the fact
that you just fell into the mix
of things,
This line was superfluous, I prefer implication.
at the right moment.
and when
the dumps are clumped
way up
over your head,
it's way too easy to look at things
like a sick man would,
on his death bed, or putting out
his last cigarette.

shortly after our conversation,
Michael and i
and the beer
and the smoke
moseyed our way
to a couple of bean bags
on his rooftop.
the depth of connection between
two people
can increase drastically,
while gazing the stars:
Perfect, this is where I fell in. It was almost spooky how well I connected with this part. I've wanted to write about this before and you've found the perfect words to express what I couldn't.
little white punctures in a big black canvas;
backlit by God's eyes.
backlit just seems like such a hideous word in context. Wasn't crazy about it here or in the end. Even lit alone sounds better,
like little peepholes.

Michael, the drunk, asked me:
Honestly I don't want to know if he's a drunk or not here. It doesn't feel like the appropriate time to introduce that fact. Just saying he's drunk or nothing at all would be well enough for me.
"I don't understand how, or why, you write poetry."
"I mean, it's just a bunch of....words."
"That's all they are; words."

i looked at him for a moment,
then cited a famous piece aloud,
right before i passed out.

"a single dog
walking alone on a hot sidewalk of
summer
appears to have the power
of ten thousand gods.

why is this?"

...

hours later
a bug had flew on my face
had flown or just flew, I would say
and temporarily woke me.
as i opened my eyes,
i saw Michael with a pen
and a notepad
and eyes that looked like
little white punctures
in a big black canvas;
backlit by God.
Brilliant ending excepting, once again, backlit


Some people are about as deep as my big toe. I couldn't reach the bottom of your life with a fifty foot pole.
On the eight day we spoke back...

let there be sound.
Last edited by Billyjson at Aug 24, 2008,
#4
See, if only you could combine the flow, rhyme and rhythm of the pieces by you I don't get, and the ideas and sentiments portrayed in the ones I do, you'd be my favourite writer on the site, on your own.

Naturally at the moment you're just one of many.

I'd love to into your next one deeper, it's late here.

Much love.
#5
Quote by Jammydude44
See, if only you could combine the flow, rhyme and rhythm of the pieces by you I don't get, and the ideas and sentiments portrayed in the ones I do, you'd be my favourite writer on the site, on your own.

Naturally at the moment you're just one of many.



This. Exactly. It always feels like you have one or the other. The ideas and presentation here were gorgeous. The pay off was worth the read, the descriptions were absolutely stunning. The problem here lies entirely within presentation. Even though I was definitely into the piece, it still felt like it dragged. It felt like prose with line breaks, not poetry with a point. And that really hindered it from connecting with me, as a reader.

I have no suggestions on how to fix it... I have no idea myself. But I do know that should you find a way to combine the two, you will be published.
#6
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#7
no surprises in what i thought of it. just want to let you know that i read all of your pieces dr. octavius, even if i don't comment.

i don't really think that you have as big a problem with joining flow and story as people seem to think, though it is something that will certainly improve (it already has been improving steadily over the past few months). there's nothing wrong with the flow here. it's fine. it's just not as wonderful in flow as some of your other pieces, which is why people have mentioned it i guess. i think it's going to be

incredibly difficult/impossible for you to actually employ your crazy rhythm to tell the story.

i'll recommend something that i recommended a while back, which is to take a kind of nirvana-esque approach to a new piece. that is, don't try and work the rhythm and the story together in one singular line, but try and work up a bit of a rhythm and then throw in the story, and be a little more vague or generic... or interpretable, in the lines utilising your great rhythm. that will allow you, i think, the flexibility and the creative freedom to really stumble upon something great rather than being so constricted by rhythm that a story can't develop (which i think is a problem you could encounter if you take zach and jamie's advice too literally).

i could be speaking nonesense as is very often a waste (as is very often the case) but

allow me a few more words to tell you that this was beautiful and i wish to read more soon (the moon the moon the moon the moon).
#8
i love you alex.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#9
It's good. I dig.

Don't limit yourself on how you write it.
マリ「しあわっせはーあるいってこないだーからあるいってゆっくんだねーん 
いっちにっちいっぽみーかでさんぽ
 さーんぽすすんでにっほさっがるー 
じーんせいはっわんつー!ぱんち・・・


"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching

#10
went to my friend
Michael's
house last night;
had a nice talk with his parents
and his sister
about the way things change
as you get older.
we decided that
when life's going good for you,
it's not your place to say that
you made it happen,
but rather accept the fact
that you just fell into the mix
of things,
at the right moment.
and when
the dumps are clumped
way up
over your head,
it's way too easy to look at things
like a sick man would,
on his death bed, or putting out
his last cigarette.

Normally I like this kind of structure, but I think that in this case the short line breaks are draining some of the sentiment out of the piece. I love what you're saying, but I think it would be better presented if it weren't chopped to bits. You nailed it with the last four lines here.

shortly after our conversation,
Michael and i
and the beer
and the smoke
moseyed our way
to a couple of bean bags
on his rooftop.
the depth of connection between
two people
can increase drastically,
while gazing the stars:
little white punctures in a big black canvas;
backlit by God's eyes.
like divine peepholes.

At first I was disappointed in the "little white puncture/big black canvas" line, but then the next two lines pulled it together and left me satisfied.

Michael, the drunk, asked me:
"I don't understand how, or why, you write poetry."
"I mean, it's just a bunch of....words."
"That's all they are; words."

I found this kind of predictable and boring, but then I guess most dialogue is.

i looked at him for a moment,
then cited a famous piece aloud,
right before i passed out.

"a single dog
walking alone on a hot sidewalk of
summer
appears to have the power
of ten thousand gods.

why is this?"

...

hours later
a bug had landed on my face
and temporarily woke me.
as i opened my eyes,
i saw Michael with a pen
and a notepad
and eyes that looked like
little white punctures
in a big black canvas;
backlit by God.

Ending works well. No complaints.

I feel the same as these other gentlemen due as far as balancing sentiment with structure, but at the same time you can't always say what you need to say if you're worrying too much about rhythm and rhyme.

I know I didn't actually crit much haha. Any major issues have already been addressed. Thanks for your comments on mine though. Much appreciated.
#11
thank you culex and bassbeat(steve?).
i greatly appreciate you taking the time to say something.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#12
Shouldn't talk about poetry when writing poetry, I find it to be wrong.

>.>

EDIT: Wow, didn't realise being facetious was akin to trampling your first born.
On vacation from modding = don't pm me with your pish
Last edited by meh! at Aug 26, 2008,
#13
^are you fucking joking?
if not, please do not post in my thread.

EDIT: well, there's nothing more i appreciate when it comes to constructive criticism, but when you don't plan on elaborating in the least bit; why bother pissing on someone's work?
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
Last edited by ottoavist at Aug 26, 2008,
#14
I'll expand then, I wasn't pissing on your work, I wouldn't do that.

I made a semi-serious remark about something I didn't particularly like in a poem that I did like, so i thought it was worth pointing out. I don't find it appealing when people talk about writing poetry in their poems. To me it's like stepping back and being too aware that you're trying to fit the world into a form in which it doesn't naturally fit. It's like... the author of a book introducing him self as a character - the author, it so rarely works. And there's that very blatant paragraph and the very end of the poem and so the whole poem seems tainted by that. Why write about the creative process when the creative process is there to illuminate everything else in the world, as it were?

This is apparently very much just me as no one else has been bothered by it, but it seemed worth mentioning.

I'd also add a few very minor things:

'like a sick man would,
on his death bed, or putting out
his last cigarette.' I don't think that quite makes grammatical sense, wether you consider that important or not I dunno! lol. The 'or' doesn't work with the comma.

'little white punctures in a big black canvas;
backlit by God's eyes.
like divine peepholes.'

I don't think you need the 'white' part, they're holes in your big black canvas lit up by god's eyes, as you say, it's his eyes that are white. However someone else could find the way you've phrased much more appealing, so aye.


'hours later
a bug had landed on my face
and temporarily woke me.'

Should either remove 'had' or make it 'woken' to get the right tense, really, I think.
On vacation from modding = don't pm me with your pish
#15
thank you so much for elaborating.
just a small misunderstanding, please forgive my hastiness.
i'd be glad to return the crit.

thanks again,
- K
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.