• ✍️ WORDS ✍️

    Welcome Guest!

  • Words Moderators: Shambles

needle in an ice box

X

xxxyyy

Bluelighter
Joined
Aug 27, 2011
Messages
1,498
Location
germany
first poem i wrote since i was, oh, 17. gimme feedback.

and there she stands
looming and grand
woven through and weaving sorrow
with luminous eyes unseeing
and the self unfeeling
o all you fucking people
behold as nerves die and atrophy
behold as sweat, tears and blood
drip, flow and stain the floor
and there i cower
naked, bitter and scared
cursing the dayi was conceived
fecal eyes averted
and scarred hands grasping
bloodstains drying and coagulating
my soul howling in pain
battered, broken and bruised
a living, breathing wound
unable to die, unable to heal
since she is a world away
can't you hear the screams?
they reverb in my head
like the last word of god
but this is only for me
and not her
 
Couldn't resist re-arranging,
the needles in your ice box.

Remixes upset people, sometimes.
Poets can be over-protective.
Don't be a little bitch.

So, I fucked with your words.
Took a little dip in the pallete,
as they say. I couldn't resist,
splashing around in your paint.

drip-flow-stain

She stands, weaving sorrow with luminous unseeing eyes.

The last words of God, reverberating in my head.
My broken soul, howling. Fecal eyes, averted.
No sweat. No tears. I cower, naked-bitter-scared.
Grasping at bloodstains on the floor.

She stands, a world away, unfeeling-unseeing me.

I am a stain. An atrophied wound.
A living-breathing bruise. I am pain.
Cowering naked-bitter-scared in drying blood.

She weaves sorrow - living-breathing, unfeeling-unseeing - as I die.
 
Last edited:
well i'm not overly protective of what i write, and i actually liked your rearrangement. poetry is something i hardly ever dabble in, i was in a pretty fucked up mood when i wrote that. i actually wanted to write a short story but i couldn't get more than a slim paragraph done. so that poem was the end result of numbing the feeling of rejection with way too many gabaergics.
 
well what i actually wanted was a feeling of weary rejection and the end result was a pretty fucked rearrangement. i like your new batch of poetry, but it’s too short. i'm not, actually, overly slim. I couldn't write more than a paragraph. When I do afro-mystery gigs, i hardly ever dabble with dementia. i get in a protective mood, without a thing. (i wrote that, on some numbing poo.)
Click to expand...

Indeed.
 
Feedback is always disappointing because only you know what you're trying to say. I'd tell you the best you can hope for is a thumbs up, which you've earned, no doubt, but I forgot how our current mod operates. I don't know if his rewrite was an improvement or not.

I personally thought his omission of the lines

"and there she stands
looming and grand
woven through and weaving sorrow"

was a mistake because I like those very much. It's also very hipster to start a poem with a lowercase letter.
 
I agree very tough to critique poetry for me seeing as how it's never been my bag and I've only written a few - though I rather enjoyed this.

XXXYYY probably would read it better aloud than I do in my head.

I particularly dug:

fecal eyes averted
and scarred hands grasping
bloodstains drying and coagulating
Click to expand...

Killer word combinations there imo.

Good show.
 
thanks coffeedrinker and catch-22 fan for the encouragement.
i always have a ridiculously hard time judging my own output, slim as it is. poetry moreso than prose, because of the condensed nature of (most) poetry you have less latitude for errors.
@ nately: i'd like to see you write a poem about your latest romantical conquest.
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top