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		My thanks to Leanne and Lucy (stalker) for helping me. Very much aprecciated. I hope it reads better now.
Turds of God
 
Not a biggie anymore 
to surrealize my being, 
born in an implosion 
of Beckettian mantras. 
A pale pulse shivered. 
My lines seduced by booze  
reduced to typing  
my rant straight out:
 
The winter had decided 
not to come upon us today- 
Instead it chose procrastination 
and blew warm rainy winds 
into our faces.
 
There’s some April to come yet, 
as unloved as before: 
this is the fifth week of the year. 
It meets me unprepared, 
I’ll try its tribulations: 
danse macabre. 
I macaronize what  
it holds dear  
because it does the same to me.
 
I cannot fight it but I will. 
I love those fights, 
that can’t go well, 
because they’re real 
and leave me hanging 
in frowzy, sneering alleys 
because they tell my tale.
 
Lonesome crows sail 
like turds of god 
across my sullen 
deep white-yellow  skies.
 
Allow me to step out a bit! 
I’m dying 
Just as you  
But a bit soonishlier. 
To plot this up 
I add meat  
To be torn  apart 
Just for you Heslopians, (I am not satisfied with this, but i want to keep soonishlier ;-)  So I dunno yet). 
Wise guys you. 
Someone at least should benefit
 
It’s cumbersome but 
having but time nothing 
why not go there 
wasting your life time 
making sense?
 
SENSE
 
Wounds
 
Pain in my lower jaw right: 
see your dentist soon. 
Not me, bring on the pills.
 
Once you wake you will know
 
How and why and when 
did it all go wrong?
 
I fucked her good this morn 
And now she’s dating. 
Don’t get me wrong
 
Just know that I do not care 
As long as the pusher’s coming by. 
She’s dating for fixes, I know- 
I know, I know, I know 
It.
 
Poison
 
I’m inserting my 
poison right into your vein. 
I can make you love me, you know? 
Just takes the sec  
Morphine rolls out 
inside of you. 
But you’re innocent, 
so I step back. 
My rule being: 
Don’t fuck the  
virgins.
 
-------------------------------------- 
listening to Soul Dressing, performed by Roy Buchanan:
http://youtu.be/EEeoqx2WPYQ 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 1,548Threads: 942
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		 (02-01-2013, 07:53 PM)serge gurkski Wrote:  Not a biggie anymoreto surrealize my being,
 born in an explosion
 of Beckettian mantras Good line. I like how you call back to surrealism by referencing Beckett.
 pulsating  in a pale sardonic, Should a comma come after "pale"?
 shivering rhythm, my lines
 seduced by booze reduced
 to typing my rant
 straight out:
 
 The winter had decided
 not to come upon us as of yet;
 instead it chose procrastination
 and blew warm rainy winds
 into our stupid faces.
 
 There's some April to come yet,
 as unloved as before:
 this is the fifth week of the year.
 It meets me unprepared,
 I’ll try its tribulations
 I’ll dance its macabrees**.
 I macaronize*** what
 it holds dear
 because it does the same to me.
 
 I cannot fight it but I will.
 I love those fights,
 that can’t go well,
 because they’re real
 and leave me hanging
 in frowzy, sneering alleys
 because they tell my life to me.
 
 Some lonesome crows,
 they keep on sailing
 like turds of god**** I really like this line. It's aggressive and crude without being inadvertantly funny.
 across my sullen
 deep white-yellow* frightening skies.
 ---------------
 *it's raining bile
 ** danse macabre / Books of Maccabees
 *** macaronize (mingling languages: ridicule)
 **** looked like them, sorry Why not just go back and edit this line instead of making a new footnote?
 
 --------------------------------------
 listening to Soul Dressing, performed by Roy Buchanan:
 http://youtu.be/EEeoqx2WPYQ
 
The poem has a lot of good individual lines, but there isn't much texture. It's mostly just elegant phrasing, which makes it feel a bit diffuse and empty. I'd suggest adding more narrative; come up with an idea or image on which the poem can hinge. JMHO, of course. Thank you for the read   
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 497Threads: 83
 Joined: Dec 2012
 
	
	
		the poem is a ref to TS Eliot. I dunno if that helps. you know: April is the cruellest month. That shit. Thanks for the effort.
 
 and what is your opinion on my plot?
 
 well, ok. Consider it an intro.
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 1,548Threads: 942
 Joined: Dec 2016
 
	
	
		Ah, so it's a bit Waste Land-y. That helps explain the tone and diffuseness. Is there a plot? I saw the poem more as an evocation of feelings than a narrative.
	 
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 497Threads: 83
 Joined: Dec 2012
 
	
	
		I ll work on it once I thawed. ;-) Promise
 i added content. some.
 
 just an add.on. Becket of course is not surrealism.
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 497Threads: 83
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		I had incredible help on stanza 5 by stalker (Lucy). 
 cheers and hugs
 
 serge
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 67Threads: 7
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		Sershh
 I will always tell you to remove words - so let me see which words here I like.
 
 Turds of God
 
 Not a biggie anymore => I like the chatty vernacular style of this opener
 to surrealize my being,=> and so of course we know it has been a biggie before.
 born in an explosion
 of Beckettian mantras
 pulsating  in a pale
 shivering way, my lines => for my taste to many adjectives here, how about 'a pale pulse shivered'?
 seduced by booze reduced=> comma after booze?
 to typing my rant
 straight out:
 
 The winter had decided
 not to come upon us as of  yet;
 instead it chose procrastination => could you do without 'it chose'?
 and blew warm rainy winds => do you need 'and'?
 into our stupid faces.
 
 There’s some April to come yet, => do you need 'yet'?
 as unloved as before: => do you need 'as'? (The first one)
 this is the fifth week of the year.
 It meets me unprepared, => 'this fifth week of the year // meets me unprepared
 I’ll try its tribulations
 I’ll dance it macabrees.
 I macaronize what
 it holds dear
 because it does the same to me.
 
 I cannot fight it but I will.
 I love those fights,
 that can’t go well,
 because they’re real
 and leave me hanging
 in frowzy, sneering alleys => full stop?  even line break perhaps.
 because they tell my life to me.
 
 Some lonesome crows ,
 they keep on sailing
 like turds of god
 across my sullen
 deep white-yellow  skies.
 
 bit confused- I thought you changed this last already
 
 I like it
 
 one of the things I like is the way the language becomes increasingly pared down and increasingly abstract as we leave the vernacular behind and in the beginning.
 
 cheers
 
 stalky
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 497Threads: 83
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		i love you 
 
too   ))
	
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 497Threads: 83
 Joined: Dec 2012
 
	
	
		ya Lucy. I was stone drunk, so ty for repeating here what you said on the phone.As to the vernacular: I am prone to use that bc it sounds natural to me.
 and then there's a very fine line to make it poetry.
 
 Now then the colloquial cums with fillers. (the very words you sensed are unnecessary).
 I  first write, then share, then edit. I have a plan. ;-)
 (despite the booze).
 
 And you are right about the yets and the ands  etc.
 
 So that is a bit tricky for me: when keep it, when lose it.
 I ll return to this one.
 
 hugs
 
 serge
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
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		02-03-2013, 05:01 AM 
(This post was last modified: 02-03-2013, 05:02 AM by Leanne.)
	
	 
		 (02-01-2013, 07:53 PM)serge gurkski Wrote:  Turds of God
 Not a biggie anymore
 to surrealize my being,
 born in an explosion -- I tend to want a more surrealistic word than "explosion", something unexpected. Even though you're NOT "surrealizing" anymore, this line is still about that previous existence.
 of Beckettian mantras. -- surreal, absurd, who cares about the label?  They're all born of the same frustration with the mundane, so Beckett works (and of course without him, the title wouldn't make as much sense, or nonsense).
 A pale pulse shivered.
 My lines seduced by booze
 reduced to typing
 my rant straight out: -- I'm not convinced this line is necessary
 
 The winter had decided
 not to come upon us as of  yet; -- you could remove "as of" -- instead of "yet", you might also consider a more specific time, such as "this week" or "today" or "before half past two"
  instead it chose procrastination
 and blew warm rainy winds
 into our stupid faces. -- stupid is a bit lame as an adjective, especially following the fairly standard "warm rainy", which I can accept if this line is a bit less crap in contrast
 
 There’s some April to come yet,
 as unloved as before:
 this is the fifth week of the year.
 It meets me unprepared,
 I’ll try its tribulations
 I’ll dance it macabrees. -- I'm not convinced the pun/fusion works and it seems to be thrown in just for effect.  Danse macabre by all means, that fits -- but I really can't force the Maccabees into the concept at all, so for me there's no pay-off.
 I macaronize what
 it holds dear
 because it does the same to me.
 
 I cannot fight it but I will. -- a bit prosaic here
 I love those fights, -- no comma required really
 that can’t go well,
 because they’re real
 and leave me hanging
 in frowzy, sneering alleys -- great adjectives
 because they tell my life to me. -- maybe you'd consider "tell my tale"?
 
 Lonesome crows sail
 like turds of god
 across my sullen
 deep white-yellow  skies. -- is this a reference to the words on the page?  If it is, it's masterful -- if it's not, it's possibly masterful as well... I just didn't pick up on it immediately
 
 
 Allow me to step out a bit!
 I’m dying
 Just as you
 But a bit soonishlier. -- nice drunken slur, very Irish
  To plot this up
 I add meat
 To be torn  apart
 Just for you Heslopians,
 Wise guys you.
 
 Someone at least should benefit
 
 
 should not they? -- the inversion just doesn't work for me at all, except together with "it's cumbersome" -- if you want to leave it, I'd be tempted to remove this stanza break and put the lines together
 
 It’s cumbersome but
 having but time nothing
 why not go there
 wasting your life time
 making sense? -- quite right!
 
 SENSE
 
 
 
 Wounds -- there's a clear volta here and it's quite well done
 
 Pain in my lower jaw right:
 see your dentist soon.
 Not me, bring on the pills.
 
 Once you wake you will know
 
 How and why and when
 did it all go wrong?
 
 I fucked her good this morn
 And now she’s dating.
 Don’t get me wrong
 
 
 Just know that I do not care
 As long as the pusher’s coming by.
 She’s dating for fixes, I know-
 I know, I know, I know
 It. -- needed? I don't think so
 
 Poison
 
 
 I’m your virus.
 I’m inserting my
 poison  right into your vein. -- I find this line a bit heavy handed and obvious -- my suggestion is either virus or poison, not both, and get rid of the vein.
 I can make love me, you know?
 Just takes the sec
 Morphine rolls out
 inside of you.
 But you’re innocent,
 so I step back.
 My rule being:
 Don’t fuck the
 virgins. -- good rule, good ending
 
 --------------------------------------
 listening to Soul Dressing, performed by Roy Buchanan:
 http://youtu.be/EEeoqx2WPYQ
 
It could be worse
 
		
	 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 497Threads: 83
 Joined: Dec 2012
 
	
	
		Hi Leanne, thank you for reading me and the feedback. I will make some changes right now and then let it simmer a bit. I will tell right here what I changed because I won't write  a rev. (too time-consuming. I'm somewhere else already but I do appreciate your efforts. 
cheers 
Serge
 
 
Leanne: 
Not a biggie anymore 
 to surrealize my being, 
 born in an explosion -- I tend to want a more surrealistic word than "explosion", something unexpected. Even though you're NOT "surrealizing" anymore, this line is still about that previous existence. 
 of Beckettian mantras. -- surreal, absurd, who cares about the label? They're all born of the same frustration with the mundane, so Beckett works (and of course without him, the title wouldn't make as much sense, or nonsense).
 
I can't change this because I have nothing better right now.
 
 
Leanne: 
Not a biggie anymore 
 to surrealize my being, 
 born in an explosion -- I tend to want a more surrealistic word than "explosion", something unexpected. Even though you're NOT "surrealizing" anymore, this line is still about that previous existence. 
 of Beckettian mantras. -- surreal, absurd, who cares about the label? They're all born of the same frustration with the mundane, so Beckett works (and of course without him, the title wouldn't make as much sense, or nonsense).
 
I can't change this because I have nothing better right now.
 
"should not they? -- the inversion just doesn't work for me at all, except together with "it's cumbersome" -- if you want to leave it, I'd be tempted to remove this stanza break and put the lines together"
 
I throw this out. ;-)  no harm.
 
 
Leanne: 
Not a biggie anymore 
 to surrealize my being, 
 born in an explosion -- I tend to want a more surrealistic word than "explosion", something unexpected. Even though you're NOT "surrealizing" anymore, this line is still about that previous existence. 
 of Beckettian mantras. -- surreal, absurd, who cares about the label? They're all born of the same frustration with the mundane, so Beckett works (and of course without him, the title wouldn't make as much sense, or nonsense).
 
I can't change this because I have nothing better right now.
 
"should not they? -- the inversion just doesn't work for me at all, except together with "it's cumbersome" -- if you want to leave it, I'd be tempted to remove this stanza break and put the lines together"
 
I throw this out. ;-)  no harm.
 
"I’ll dance it macabrees. -- I'm not convinced the pun/fusion works and it seems to be thrown in just for effect. Danse macabre by all means, that fits -- but I really can't force the Maccabees into the concept at all, so for me there's no pay-off." 
right! :-)
 
you like Billy Preston? I do. Here is a link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pMb4OhxdEU &feature=share&list=AL94UKMTqg-9CEp9PRgSjV7u8vGctB0Bh8
 
 
explosion: 
what I can do, Leanne, is making it an 
implosion. 
(which I will ;-)  )
 
 
Don’t fuck the  
 virgins. -- good rule, good ending
 
yup. lol
	
		
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