10-23-2013, 09:25 AM
i'm not sure what to think. i definitely like but i'm not sure why.
one suggestion would be to separate each section.
Dream:
i dream....
..................
Rain:
Rain, jagged....
............. etc.
i stopped giving feedback below because i frankly got lost in it (in good way) most or a lot of it didn't work but the weird thing is, it all made sense in a psychedelic sort of way it's like train of thought meets lobsang rampa and the pusher man.. some great images. some not so great simile.
i enjoyed the read and wish i could have been more help. i think a to much of this resonates with me for me to give proper feedback.
thanks for the read
one suggestion would be to separate each section.
Dream:
i dream....
..................
Rain:
Rain, jagged....
............. etc.
i stopped giving feedback below because i frankly got lost in it (in good way) most or a lot of it didn't work but the weird thing is, it all made sense in a psychedelic sort of way it's like train of thought meets lobsang rampa and the pusher man.. some great images. some not so great simile.
i enjoyed the read and wish i could have been more help. i think a to much of this resonates with me for me to give proper feedback.
thanks for the read
(10-23-2013, 07:19 AM)SirBrendan Wrote: So, I Dream of Raining Fucks
Dream
I dream of androgynous fragmented waters a period, [b]you used punctuation elsewhere so make it constant
Liquid bodies and vapoured thoughts
touching a cantankerous stratopshere
with a hue of softer horizons
Rain
Rain jagged teeth on me
itched like lichen on a stump the simile sounds good but begs the question; does lichen itch stumps? also not sure the transition from the line above to this works well enough.
with epicurean subtext what has the above to do with epicurean?
And I'm liking the idea
of red commie sunsets good image
splashing equality dew the image carried on with the metaphore
like dreams of yesterday
carried by handsome men in black masks
Perfumed by the scent of amphetamine green
on naked morning skin,
we can swallow in whole
the worth of our voucher-redeemed suffering
Fuck
Fuck every hole they left in you
Burning monks and blazing dharma
while scamps of the mind race
along the trains with pockets full of rent-free love
Naked, the young are dreaming sweaty in their beds
with souls bursting fifty REM per second
and run-on thought patterns
So what if we can't fly; we can float
we float like corpses with
water bloat gasping for life
We float like our aspiring thoughts
and rising action dreams
but these lines are getting longer
and the pauses between selves
seem to reveal positive correlations
inescapable as they are exhausting
so
so maybe, y'know, we could just head to the office and grab some coffee on the way[/b]
This poem is hopefully a wide departure from my last (My Wheelchair). I definitely didn't try as hard for structure, so let me know if it turned out any better or worse for the measure.
