#1
Career hunting boasts it's own post-apocalyptic nigthmare
of finding dirt encrusted fingernails,
of craving hot cocoa:
(The fervent lanour entitles me to another diversion:
hot cocoa sprinkled with more cocoa,
as the horror of the eastern sky constantly presses,
deep, like a finger gone wrong, wild,
abusive).

Nothing that I have ever heard of.
Minute degrees of black crayon, scraped
sullenly on blackboard walls
they are invisible like the people on the other end of the line.

"I'm back with the black crayon!"
It's time for the wax realization of this horrible color,
the lax leaves of autumn fending for themselves, or
the stark degenerative phase in which they are pushed through:
Is this what we have come to?

They feed themselves with silver spoons.

One man proceeds to shout obscenities
at the dark eye of a mysterious animal he knows not the reaction to--
but I know very well what will happen, and I know
what kind of animal is that,
one with a gun.

...a moving limb
so violent in nature as to cease the procession of Marching Love...
Quote by icaneatcatfood
On second thought, **** tuning forks. You best be carrying around a grand piano that was tuned by an Italian
Last edited by Laces Out Danny at Oct 8, 2008,
#2
Quote by Laces Out Danny
Career hunting boasts it's own post-apocalyptic nigthmare
of finding dirt encrusted fingernails,
of craving hot cocoa:
(The fervent lanour entitles me to another diversion:
hot cocoa sprinkled with more cocoa,
as the horror of the eastern sky constantly presses,
deep, like a finger gone wrong, wild,
abusive).

Nothing that I have ever heard of.
Minute degrees of black crayon, scraped
sullenly on blackboard walls
they are invisible like the people I talk to on the phone.
(people i talk to on the phone just sounds so "blah" compared to the poetic langauge you have up to this point. maybe "on the other end of the phone". something.)

"I'm back with the black crayon!"
It's time for the wax realization of this horrible color,
the lax leaves of autumn fending for themselves, or
(i like the wax/lax internal rhyming)
the stark degenerative phase in which they are pushed through:
Is this what we have come to?

They feed themselves with silver spoons.
One man proceeded to shout obscenities
(the tense change here feels off. try "proceeds')
at the dark eye of a mysterious animal he knows not the reaction to--
but I know very well what will happen, and I know
what kind of animal is that, one with a gun.
(put "one with a gun" on it's own line)

...a moving limb
so violent in nature as to cease the procession of Marching Love...


I really like your language here. I'll probably need to read this over a few more times to get more from it to nitpick. I'm just too tired to really dwell on it right now. I'll probably be back but this is what I picked up on at first glace. Nicely written.

And yeah, job hunting is an ass.

If you're looking for a title some suggestions are
Cocoa Black Crayon. Cocoa and Black Crayons.
Something about cocoa or crayons?

...

(If you have time, please check out my newest piece "Honk If You Love Peace And Quiet. Thanks!)