So, I Dream of Raining Fucks

[tectak]

So, I Dream of Raining Fucks

Dream
I dream of androgynous fragmented waters>Awkward
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>
with epicurean subtext>I like this part, expand on epicurean subtext
And I'm liking the idea>
of red commie sunsets>
splashing equality dew>
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>these lines seem messy to me
Fuck
Fuck every hole they left in you>yes, transition into next line better
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>favorite line
with souls bursting fifty REM per second>bursting threw off the vibe
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>I get this
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

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.

This poem is awkward like a good Dali painting.
The last line was weird for me.
Vivid.
I'd like to see more.

Whoaaaa! Hold up there! Someone has to rein this runaway stallion in!
This piece is jumping hurdles, fences and brooks...but the bloody jockey fell of at the starter's pistol.
Androgynus?Cantankerous? Vapoured?
Stratopsphere? We haven't gone the first furlong and I'm feeling the handicap! Wordy or what?
Sorry, but the King is naked. OK. You are regurgitating a dictionary...that is purgative for you but purgatory for this crit. It is to no purpose asking what the hell this is about, it is about everything...and ipso facto? No. I cannot say it.
TAKE STOCK! You have gone off on a diatribe of dissent and weakened all that you are trying to say by trying to say everything. It even has a gratuitous, purposeless fuck in it...for fuck's sake!
Honest crit? This is rubbish but it CAN be recycled. First of all, seperate the plastic from the paper, the glass from the garbage, the metal from mountain of dross that you have dumped here. What is the point, the theme, the central metaphor, the pivot, the axis, the SOUL of the piece?
Make poetry. You have the words, the concept( I read your last piece so you cannot disagree) all you need is SIMPLICITY. (Unlike this crit. See what I mean?)
Best
tectak

---

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

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.

Lobsang Rampa only worked Tuesdays,
the rest of the week was gold-cord muse days.
He served kids ice-cream from his van,
Tuesday Rampa, known as Lobsang.
tectak