/lit/ - Literature

The amount of resentment in this thread is hilarious.

Maybe your inability to get published is not the result of a conspiracy or systematic disavowal of white male writers, but rather because your novel is a steaming pile of shit? Yes there is a recent tendency – particularly in liberal award ceremonies – to circlejerk inclusivity and diversity, but that's only because western civilisation began to grow a conscience and entered a phase of self-flagellation. It'll grow out of it eventually (in fact with the rise of trump and nationalist rhetoric its already happening), but in the mean time chill the fuck out fellas. It's totally narcissistic and delusional to think that society offering a helping hand to underrepresented or marginalised groups is a way of excluding white people.

>>8216776
I'm actually an atheist. You're just very easy to wind up.

Maybe it might serve you better to stop being so dogmatic and lighten up?

>>8158264
I like the general sentiment (even if it is somewhat of a platitude), and the repetitions of 'meanwhile' feel very precisely placed in evoking the constant flows, breaks and cycles of the natural world. The language is simple, but that's in no way a bad thing here.

Successful swords, who find their mark,
Pierce not like needles fed from cherub’s heart.
For mine doth lay, so hidden away
Within a quiet nook of dust,
Whose glinted blade sat sullied in unrust.

"Fair, foul, feminine creature, O’, divine for me
My future's intimacy– of soul, body, blood and mind;
Leave not yourselves to brutish apes
Who fight with vicious swinging fists,
Yet lack the hands for tender trust
Earned, by rights, by thy virtue’s sweet courtier,
And in most modest airs of chivalry.
I live and die in great service of beauty’s charity,
If my breath doth sweeten thee completely."

“Depth of a mudded puddle, thou
Knows not of the sins of man;
Sweet in most excess is sickly,
Seeming a hive in most
Golden attire
One hand upon a cup of nectar
Fulleth over
As sticky fingers blanch its shine.

I think, I think, I dare not dream of dad nor mum,
nor therein the birthed Christ the son,
If by chance thine marriage bed –
Whence underneath the cogs divine its industry,
machinating states of disturb’d revelry –
lies stained a wound of inscrib’d red."

"Oh, I wish, I wish upon those
Constellated orbs,
To swing their glared apricities
Away from my dark territories,
The spires and clock towers casting shadow
Unceasing over this enclosed meadow.
A quiet space, divined by you
In airs of shelter from the greying hue
Of raindrops, thick and fast, might
Hold long against the storm; o’,
though my endurance bloodies by the dimming light,
I hope my fountain fain will yet quench your fears tonight."

“I hear, I hear the patter of snares
Gone marching softly the rooftop bare,
Punctus contra punctum
With the pounding in your chest,
In tones so low it slips through your throat
Or seized by the quake in your bones.
Thy wounded knight, stoic in the
Shackled tongue of his servitude,
Lies half-dead on the piste of faraway lands,
Whilst the king sits here,
Ravening the feast and spraying commands.
And though the blade still lingers in that bloody cut,
I hear his voice carried across the breeze
From o’er the red rocks and mountainous sand,
To whispering, now,
Ever softly amongst the leaves:
'I fought with faith in my kingdom,
But my fortunes hath forsaken all that I have become.
Father, lover, brother, son;
Torn from ancient chains and flung
at the distant feet of drifting spectres,
wandering homeward over this arid plain.

See now, watch as their caliginous hands
sweep softly the dust from beds of black marble stone,
Rivverrin dry from spurted thoughts to trickled desire,
To lie down, and lie still,
Shapely forms dislimned in their sleep
And become as death effigies buried by the deep.’"

>>7500913
maybe because the people you talk to are imbeciles. Maybe you hang around with stupid people because you are yourself a stupid person who can't handle a real pynchon discussion. You want the truth of GV? you can't handle the truth, faggot

>>7457559
>tfw at my graduation my english teacher spoke about how I was writing in sonnet form before I even knew what a 'sonnet' was and claimed I was an absolute left-brained genius

I have now soiled my mind with copious amounts of drugs and continental/postmodern philosophy so the jokes on her, the dirty spook

>>6697788
>But the decoding of flows in capitalism has freed, deterritorialized, and decoded the flows of code just as it has the others - to such a degree that the automatic machine has always increasingly internalised them in its body or its structure as a field of forces, while depending on a science and a technology, on a so-called intellectual labor distinct from the manual labor of the worker (the evolution of the technical object).

>>6435488
>formal logic
>a serious issue