/lit/ - Literature

>>10279204
wat

>>10279204
Try to not write poetry in a Ye Olde Butcherede Englishe


https://pastebin.com/QP6Pgzbw

>>10279204
ED, the poem

>>10279204
It's antiquated sure, but >>10279221
just doesn't get the joke. In light of that, good job OP.
Here's my excerpt:
New York by Amanda Eckhardt
I have a comfortable life. I wake up every morning and refresh every page. I experience the same thing each morning. I brush my teeth and hear the serene bubble of the percolator in my coffee maker. I can sense the roar of crowds from my apartment window when the Accused is paraded around town on walks of shame.
The Accused goes by a different name each week. Despite this, The Accused never ceases to be the share the same meaning as the previous Accused.
The first week the kangaroo courts issued an edict denouncing the top 1% of wealthy New Yorkers. Public action was demanded immediately, and public action was answered immediately. Many fled to the Hamptons. Few were not so lucky.
Before you ask, no executions occurred, but an execution of a different type was used. The Accused have to forfeit all private property and land holdings in order to gain the privilege of standing trial. There was no burden of proof. All that was required was an accuser, which the Social Justice Tribunal could produce at a moment’s notice with little or no hassle. Once The Accused has gone through the process of self-purification, their character is thoroughly assassinated, and then they are promptly sent to reeducation therapy at an undisclosed location in the great expanse of the American West.
Week 1 after the great upheaval, the top 1% were rounded up and put on trial. During Week 2, due to petitions by the mayor, the edict was altered for the persecution of the top half of the top 1%, or the top 0.5%. The next bump in the road occurred on Week 3, when a distant relative of our Great Leader, was put on trial. A day after his character assassination, the charges were dropped, and the Social Justice Tribunal erased all records of his trial. Almost immediately after the erasure of his records, the Social Justice Tribunal issued an edict declaring immediate action against the top one-third of one-half of 1%. This didn’t work particularly well. People who persecuted the top one-third of one-half of 1% were already seen as absurd and unfashionable. The general consensus was that those “in the know” knew that prosecuting the top one-half of one-third of one-half of 1% was the authentic battle to wage.

>>10279473
>never ceases to be the share the same
I think you went back and edited this poorly.
>Week 1, Week 2, etc.
Just say "One week after," "second week," etc.
>or the top 0.5%
I don't know why you add these details, just makes it more nitpicky.
>Great Leader
My eyes rolled. I understand this is some communist revolution, but nearly no communist would call themselves this in English. Go for something like Secretary General, or something ironically 'humble'. No party leader is called "Great leader" or "dear leader," it only translates that way if you want to skew it. It's okay, not particularly interesting. I suggest you read about the September Massacres to see how popular violence actually occurred. Lots of this proletarian justice killing is poorly represented now, you don't need to make up some cringey shit to depict it.

>Here's my excerpt:
It was a stormy afternoon when Karly Marxer looked outside the window. His school trunk brimmed with all his school things: a stolen toothbrush, an enchanted map of London, several cheques he’d inherited from his father-in-law, and a copy of Hegel’s The Phenomenology of Spirit and Wizardry, which he’d never read but had bent its spine. He had made sure to check his dreary London apartment, which was disgusting since he was a NEET, for any spare razors. Even though Karly was young, he had a large beard over his face that he’d forgotten to shave during the holidays. Professor Feuerbachonachall disliked his beard and would have him taken to the Head Dialectician, Professor Hegeldore, if they saw it. Approaching the mirror, rusty razor in hand, Karly nicked at his cheeks. It didn’t hurt since he was chanting the Vangardium Contradictosa spell, which pretty much meant that feelings didn’t matter in way of Science.
When Karly Marxer approached the 1 ¾ International Platform, he heard . He was wearing his Lumpen clothes, so none of the dirty, counterrevolutionary Lumpen would suspect. They were never admitted into the revolutionary world since they couldn’t achieve class consciousness. Friedald Engelsly saw him and barked out.

>>10279492
>When Karly Marxer approached the 1 ¾ International Platform, he heard .
What the fuck
>since he was a NEET
Even though this is satire, I feel a physical pain whenever I see internet memes included in people's writing. It just gushes with an adolescent lack of originality
Also it's obvious you're a leftist. Not a committed sentimentalist, but one of those real "shit of the earth" types who share "dank communist memes" on Facebook and have no job.
>>10279473
The first paragraph is fucking incredible. Especially this sentence
> I brush my teeth and hear the serene bubble of the percolator in my coffee maker.
You seem immensely talented at generating a mood, which is why the second paragraph suffers.
The second paragraph is rough. I would suggest you put Amanda within the actual events of the situation rather than her skimming over a general outline of what happened.
Here is my contribution:
Coke exploded at the beginning of that pivotal year. I felt as though I had been riding the crest of some wave that had been slowly collecting momentum under my feet since that virginal and fateful street-corner sniff skyrocketed me into my current self. New Year’s fireworks had me fumbling in the bathroom for a box of baggies. I sold over $4000 worth that night at an unprecedented party fueled not by proteins or carbohydrates, but rather, the momentum that came with a kilo of coke. We were all aboard a weathered ship that night, looking for a great white whale, with me as captain.

>>10279204
I actually like it.

>>10279204
Why are there 2 crit threads at the same time?

>>10279204
It's nice, kinda reminds me of Blake's "The Sick Rose" + I always dig the old forms.

As for my piece:

“The Immolation”

So many thoughts swirling in the head.
Squirming around, a shoal of eels.
One could wish to simply go to bed.
How could he, with all that he feels.

In the land of ebony darkness
once appeared a glimmer of light.
It cast aside all of the sadness,
the will to live returned with might.

Much too soon dimmed was the spark,
a faint silhouette of its previous state.
Instead of great blaze it left but a mark,
setting the world in a gloomy stalemate.

Still it is present, a silent watcher.
A thorn in his eye, a perfect reminder,
of memories he could not butcher.
Harbinger of false hopes for a finder.

Will it burst again or will it fade away?
No matter what, silent is his roar.
In hope to recover he can only pray,
for flesh to turn to stone once more.

So he can forget about the light and dawn,
get back the life he knew since he was born.

What if I am an italian writer who writes in italian?
Any ita/lit/anons here who want to read some of my stuff?

>>10279581
Coke isn't cool and it seems like you've never taken it.

>>10279889
Not who you're replying to but, for the thread as a whole, how much experience do you need in things to be able to write about them? For example, as a male, I'd be hesitant to write a female protagonist because it feels like potential overreach.

>glasses broke
>went out to the library without them before classes
>have to lean too close to the screen to actually read and write comfortably
>decide to paste my book into a text reader
>suddenly it feels like I have friends
you need to actually read it out loud and feel your lungs while proofreading though

>>10279860
Not bad. What did you mean by flesh turning to stone?

>>10279926
I think there's good examples of how to write characters who aren't like you. Even pleb-tier stuff like GRRM's ASOIAF needs to meet some kind of believable level with all their cripples, dwarfs and women. I think I remember GRRM saying he had to go to people in wheelchairs to see if Brandon was a believable consciousness of some cripple. But good examples of men writing for a female protagonist is Roxanne by Defoe and Foe by Coetzee (they're linked by the way). Just try to meet the demographic you're writing about

Drugs are harder. I can only write LSD-influenced prose when I'm actually on it. I just hated other anon's thing because it was all this long, superfluous language about how he likes taking coke, which didn't fit it at all.

>>10279978
Going back to the original state of indifference before the "light" appeared. So it's expressing the wish not to feel anymore.

Critique:
>>10279221
>corpses of men, women, and children
This may be an odd suggestion, and you can dismiss it if you wish, but I think this listing of "men, women, and children" is tiresome and I think you could make it more unsettling by 1) making it an unusual grouping of people, or 2) just not identifying their age or gender, as if they were indistinguishable. For 1), you could say: "corpses of only children and women who were not their mothers" or something like that.
>It is acrid
Really? I've never smelt that many bodies, but I don't imagine it to be bitter or anything. It's a bit of a cliche, again.
>After much deliberation, I reluctantly choose to leave the area. There is no one alive here, and no doubt if I linger any longer I'll just increase the chances of me getting caught. After thinking of all of that...
I think you repeat their thought process a bit too much, and it's not that interesting. You could explain this succinctly and tell me more about the scene, like: "I knew it was time to move... and xyz was going on around me..."
>blood-curdling shrieks echoed
It's just reading like a tired Lovecraft board game scenario or something. You're not a bad writer, just need to let go of the tropes.
>Again, he reflects
He seems a bit silly, always stopping and reflecting, brooding, when he is in mortal danger?
It's okay, overall, I'd just like you to try be a bit fresher and stop with the basic horror tropes.

>>10279860
>a shoal of eels
I like that, for some reason.
>Ebony darkness
Dark darkness? I think it's a bit unnecessary
>Harbinger of false hopes for a finder
Hm, I think this is mixing up the more relaxed tone of the poem with some very antiquated and possibly cliched antiquated language. I think I always tried to say "harbinger" in my super dark sonnets as a teen.
Overall, needs a little work but you're doing fine.

I have nothing against carrots, but I wish more than carrots for you. You should not merely be a "carrot-eater", you should also eat spinach.

>>10280348
Bugs...

At seventeen he is already resentful against women. He recognizes that he has no problem with less than very pretty girls. There is still time to do things properly, he thinks, but only one day at a time. He examines the intersex relations of his friends and of the people around him and is confused, he cannot establish causation between action and response. He works as a dishwasher, he works as a janitor. He doesn't know what's coming to him. To what collision course he is locked into. Every year he discovers that the girls around him, the girls he meets through the regular course of life are less beautiful and less intelligent than the ones from before. He thinks that all the very good ones have quit this place. He learns that he who used to be his very best friend is in the Marine Corps now. That the girl he was head over heels in love with for so many years is now a graduate of West Point. In seven years time both of them will come back in urns— body bags, as we call them. They will be survived by spouses and children. For in peacetime sons bury their fathers, but in wartime fathers bury their sons. He is surprised at his surprise on learning where his two best friends are now, because he remembers the many times the three of them together discussed such things at length. He suspects that people stare at him when he isn't looking, he suspects that those high school students over there are laughing about him. Now he is in a bus, he stares out the window at the rain. He is in a supermarket, he is in a garage. It is winter now, he doesn't leave the house much. And in that gray blur of days he starts dreaming of the most perfect things. An Arcadia of childhood memories. He dreams that he is happy, and wakes up crying. He walks out half naked to that slow and heavy snowfall and holds out his hand not unlike an Islamic prayer and he considers the events of his life and the circumstances of his upbringing— he asks out loud: What is to happen to me now?

>>10280440
Jerk off less. Have platonic friendships with women. After you feel comfortable with said platonic friends go out and hunt pussy at a bar or a club.
Or you could stay fat (and Jewish) and work your way to the top of the entertainment industry and force incredibly attractive women into terribly awkward sexual situations.

>>10280493
>>10280493

lel this isn't my diary desu, it's fiction. though i thank god for not being socially autistic and having had normative experiences in life

>>10279985
Word.

When you see someone writing about drugs in that manner there is a 99% chance that they haven't even tried drugs, let alone that the story is true.

Plus, 4k for kilo of coke is really cheap. Unless it's already cut but that is highly unlikely.

This is a piece called Ode to my Yard about my yard :)

The disheveled yarn outside my window
Solid folds outstretching, grazing this dark
Pane adrift like easy, agile minnows
Posy of the riverbed, ablaze lark
Crisp on its bloom'd wire fancies the scene
Sees the mane of chimneys tumble, return
Dense to ample skies ungirdled wake, how
Pungent souls replete leave
Sailing into smoke; whence this hour burns,
That I may soar across the clear and bow.

What etching finger cursèd me! Had sealed
And stuffed me loafing inside flesh. O' blow
Abandoned hither humming ghosts that weave
The waving on your empty wicker rocks
Please gather things untended and from plains
Where sun flings endless spears arrange a faint
Bouquet, that this Abbadon, litter might
Enjoy the quiet grace
I failed to grant- A drop so carefully descends
The glass I ponder while its fall abides.

You drowse, I creep beneath the drapes,
The intimate the tilting in your mass
Of clammy conscience further gapes
And verses lewd start curling on the grass;
I wake, and briars thrice were coiled onto
My bones I wake again and tied I've grown-
My body fettered, hiccups drenched what is
Left dying gagging to
Me pain herself is numb and winnowed;
Across this pane I’ve loved a strange pays.

>>10280554
>>10279985
>>10279889
I didn't spend 12 years in a Philippines prison for teenagers on a Japanese Cartoon board to berate me. 4K for a kilo was Miami prices in '77.
Here is my autobiography
https://docs.google.com/document/d/15YFQ_25iH2DPknxUPhGdpm10Xqq-iYVPk3VNNtk0BPI/edit?usp=sharing

>>10279860
This has a nice emotion and idea behind it, of pure poetic nature which is good and shows a true poet is writing it. But, I find the imagery lacks sting, because the subject is grimmer than it reads. Let your imgination loose!!!

>>10280606
that is retarded

>>10280606
This is actually a good piece of satire. This part blew me away:
>Van Neck, like most Dutchmen, was immensely fond of assplay. In a letter home, he writes:


>Jan. 17th, 1607
>Dearest Anneke,
>O the streets here wander, I thirst for hands, pretty hands. The people here live on the savage streets, play chords on old instruments for bamboo sticks. O Anneke, my arse thirsts for you. The sunsets here are pure, the ocean is calm, but I see every day as more bitter than the last. My mind is split sour without a piercing thrust. My mind requires hands, you must understand. I still thirst for you, but I have met someone. I have met someone who points, stabs with a happy sunshine poke into my arse. I havent farted in days, Anneke. Her name is Pho Hueng. She, like all people here, has fingers like stalagmites. She pokes my colon with such a raw and beautiful animal ferocity. I hope you will wait for me there. I cannot. I am deeply sorry Anneke, but Pho Hueng has the hands of God, hands that I cannot deny.
Deeply, Romantically, No longer yours,
Jacob van Neck.

i pooped my pants
today at work
i was alone
in the stall
whilst urinating
when an unsuspecting flatulence crept upon me bum
as I allowed it passage
thinking it merely spectral
I began to question
the nature of my allowance
for the floodgates, once manumitted,
caused an inexorable torrent of excrement
to traverse liquescently down my pantaloons
and now quivering stumps of ossein.
Suddenly marooned in a dour quagmire of contrition
and foul and fetid excrescence
I resolved to liberate mineself from my mortal spoil
by tossing my undergarments in the rubbish bin
and hurrying home
after telling my boss my cat was dying
and needed emergency care.

>>10279860
From a purely aesthetic and technical position, I'd like to comment on your opening line.
>So many thoughts swirling in the head
"So many" is a common phrase that everyone uses and comes accross like you weren't sure how to say what you wanted, so you resorted to a cliche. Immediately you have wasted two words of your opening line on a tired phrase, which is not interesting or descriptive. Instead, use a stronger term, preferably a single word. It is better not to spend too much time on adjectives.
>thoughts swirling in the head
This is a strange limbo between passive and active tense, which only amplifies the vagueness of "in the head." Whose head? your head? My head? Some other person's head? It doesn't sound like you intend to be vague, so why waste space on weak terms? Use active tense:
>many thoughts swirl in my head
This isn't much better, but it's a more succinct and less fluffy. I'd recommend now venturing to let go of your initial concept and word choice. If you want to express a multitude of thoughts, it may be better not to explicitly talk about it. What are the thoughts about? Use that concept in place of "thoughts." Or at least augment "thoughts" with some a specifics.
>Heavy thoughts swirl in my head
>(Insert what the thought is about here) swirls in my head
In general you should think more about the purpose every word serves, and what you mean to say, versus what you wrote.

Welcome to the plantation of the innocent:
flattery, the devil's mistress,
flaunts her locks of auburn and clay.
Waves crash coolly along the terraces
strewn with grinning grandmothers
who plunge head first
to avoid the waves of decay.
Love, a lavish feature of the soul,
not a bug, nor atoll,
it effervesces while placid, commending good spirit,
though ask not for a frank physician,
who'll inform you the poison's the dose.
The magpies turn their noses,
the children swing in laughing gas
chambers (of commerce).
The definitions of gestures:
all the protean, for the finger
is a wink away from a kiss.
Quiet is never darkness for the blind,
nor dark silence the deaf,
mutely faded into noise this time,
this untimely time of last breath—
a tickling westward wind
rippling the iron curtains,
stirs up a cyclone of cracked pepper
giving Bugs Bunny the sniffles.
Fleetwood Mac Dre,
jams till the jelly plan to play
to show the shrewd crowd
that sometimes waiting pays
until waiting's the game we play.

im never enough
says the one who's never enough
says the one who says the one who's never enough
and so on and so forth.

My teeth fall out nightly,
my skin sweats all day,
I can't believe this is happening,
or that today is today.

Blah blah, no one cares,
except you and me and he and she
and everyone everywhere.

The existentialist's dilemma:
cogently explained by bill's ham—
let it be the Beatles reply and jam
not knowing phony beatlemania has bitten the—
upper crust misers milling about
showering in angel's piss,
ignoring the raffle.

Krazy Kat,
please come back,
hit me in the back
with your baseball bat
Oh Krazy Kat
please come back
and kill me gently
with your baseball bat.

(Shark)
Fin
(soup is decimating Elasmobranchii populations.)


p.s. when you read between the lines,
you'll discover what this poem is about.

im never enough
says the one who's never enough
says the one who says the one who's never enough
and so on and so forth.

My teeth fall out nightly,
my skin sweats all day,
I can't believe this is happening,
or that today is today.

Blah blah, no one cares,
except you and me and he and she
and everyone everywhere.

The existentialist's dilemma:
cogently explained by bill's ham—
let it be the Beatles reply and jam
not knowing phony beatlemania has bitten the—
upper crust misers milling about
showering in angel's piss,
ignoring the raffle.

Krazy Kat,
oh please come back
and hit me in the back
with your barbwired baseball bat.
Oh Krazy Kat
please come back
and kill me oh so gently
with your baseballllllllllllll—bat.

(Shark)
Fin
(soup consumption is decimating Elasmobranchii populations.)


p.s. when you read between the lines,
you'll discover what this poem is about.

>>10280588
what's it about?

alskhfeaweaf

the letters above
(a relative term)
signify the name of this piece
of rarefied splendiferous writing
(oh how good this writing reads!)
and can conceivably be pronounced
(such as the conspicuousness of cleavage
assisted by certain torso tightening garbs)
however you, the lit literate eyeball dancer,
chooses to do so—for the letters are irrelevant
(this is not an epistolary novel!
we have sorrow not for young Werther!
this is art! Art dammit! Spelled A-R-R-R-R-6-6-6-7-T!)
and may be deleted or substituted or amended however you,
let's call you Pal—no, Jeffery—from now on,
desire (etymologically derived from Latin for
"that thing everyone has for your mom, who totally puts out btw").
Now, for the first item on today's agenda:
dismantle the patriarchy.
(Committee member cites Atomic Blonde)
Good, now that that's out of the way,
how about a quick foray to the strip club
(where gentleman gather to liberate rubberized wires
from their balkanized prisons)
so to discuss item number two:
the re-admittance of Bigfoot
into the International Foot Fetishist's Alliance.
(Heads turn: a parliament of owls.
Laugh and a hoot.)
Action denied: the pigs have gone to the market.
Item number three:
the discovery or contrivance of even an iota of a reason
to continue existing in our current animated states
known as living.
All those in favor?
(the guy giving his keyboard fingerprint portraits blinks)
All those opposed?
(these parentheses comfort me to raise an arm)
Good! Action denied.
And so the guy pulled out a (potato) gun
and shot himsel—ouch,
nobody types exclamations in real time by themselves.
But you're not by yourself,
the truth is out there.
*queue theme song*

any german here? what do you think about my opening sentence, been working on it for days

Der letzte Tag, ein Samstag, brach um sieben Uhr fünfundreißig an, die Sonne fiel auf seinen Nacken, als N.M. klingelte.

>>10282067
translation:
The last day, a Saturday, began at 7:35 am, the sun fell on his neck, as N.M. rang.

>>10282067
fuck it i might just as well post everything i have yet:

Der letzte Tag, ein Samstag, brach um sieben Uhr fünfunddreißig an, die Sonne fiel auf seinen Nacken, als N.M. klingelte. Sieben Uhr fünfunddreißig: Die Augen unseres Helden, D.F., bewegten sich rapide hinter seinen zugezogenen Lidern, Wasser mag doch jeder, das Klingeln dingdongdingdong dingdongdingdong dingdongdingdong vermochte ihn erst beim dritten - aber nicht letzten - Läuten zu wecken, dummer Hurensohn, dummer Bastard, und er verließ das Bett, (lechzte, lechzte, lechzte) noch im Gestern verfangen, das erst um vier Uhr vier erlosch, mit einer Bewegung, einer Rührung, die die allerletzte dieser Art bleiben sollte. Ein Mann wächst nur bis zu einem bestimmten Punkt, epäilemättä, das Namensschild an seiner Tür, der Türrahmen. Kleiner Hurensohn, nichtsnutzig, albern. Ein Blick aus dem Fenster, schlagartig wach, als hätte er noch nie geschlafen: Sein grauer VW Polo auf dem Parkplatz - ach was - der Zahnarztpraxis. Dort stand er zuerst im Sommer zweitausendsechzehn, zuletzt vor einem Jahr. Also, sieben Uhr sechsunddreißig, dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdong, kein Vogel war zu hören, öffnete D.F. seinen Schrank, derweil N.M. vor der Tür stand, warum, wusste nur er, allein, keiner, auch wenn D.F. es hätte wissen müssen; vor 15 Jahren schon, gottloses Stück Scheiße, hätte er es wissen müssen, kétségtelenül.

i urge you to read it carefully, aloud if you may; i've been writing on this for several hours every day since monday

How sad, to see the victims on the screen. Hundreds died, more than any other hour of the day. Words flashed across the screen, a box tv on the spare room floor. Across the floor sat two girls, one brown and one white. One of them was very beautiful, having pinned her hair to the side of her head, the corners of her collar falling to the edge of her shoulders. The heat of the room got to her. She stood up, massaging the back of her head. “Where is that envelope?”. The other, very ugly, spoke without looking. “Which one? The brown or the white?”. “Which one do you think?”. Pretty sighed loudly and walked into the kitchen. Ugly laughed, then began digging around for an ashtray. “The bill will get paid. Seriously!”. She got out a mint can and a carton of cigarettes. Shit, she thought. The 30th had come and passed. She’s been paying all the bills for the past couple months. I didn’t sign any papers. She could throw me out. Pretty walked back into the room. The sky was turning blue and yellow. Smoke was filtering up from the window below. She dipped a knuckle in the cannister, and snuffed it up. Pretty’s voice stayed level, but her eyes were wider.

https://hughgeffner.wordpress.com/

Here is my contribution

A lot of this is very bad

>>10282325
the thread went from bad to worse quick

>>10279204
It's been half a year since we made this and to this day, we have received not a single criticism.

Like what the hell are we doing wrong? This is even worse than getting bad reviews. At least that one tells you where you are wrong. I am finding my way in the dark

Anyone who can give it a pity review at least?
Call the author a retard or shit.
I am frustrated for just a single feedback

>https://sigilworks.wordpress.com/2017/07/09/violas-chapter-1/

>>10282325
What specifically, if I might ask? It's easy to hate, but it's hard to hate intelligently

Coital arrangements rarely proceed
from meticulously drawn schemata
nor do their fruits yielded in Winter,
fruits we label laissez-faire as premies,
dumpster baby, sweetheart, mistake #1,
John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt the II,
and so on (the third day of Christmas my–
false love gave me anodyne kisses, smothering
the birdbath tabled neatly in my gutty-wuts).

Walking by a black and white newsstand one day,
past Stevie Wonder's Photobooth, and the museum museum,
I overheard without eavesdropping a young senior say,
"this whole thing was just one big understanding:
life was a mistake, from amoeba to me to you!"
How cute, I thought I'd thought, really just humming
the tune to Claire de Lune in Morse,
never really considering my own considerations—
oh how droll, multitudinously he exclaims!
But to pontificate: the constancy of flux amid synapses
resembles the communicative frequencies of sociometric architecture
as aided and abetted by leviathan networked systems
designed to ultimately design their progeny,
continually divining continued heterogeny—
ipso facto I slipped in the bull pen on my own.
Delightfully hagiographic anent my own reflections
(you might need to look some of the above words up)
I decided to then recount an additional clip of colloquy
overheard in media res, res being the muted torture
of all eccedentesiasts, those ecclesiastical undesirables,
a spritely baldie share a secret with a book salesman,
for I was browsing literature for my amusement,
the formula of the secret transpired as follows,
"There're two rules for success in life
[to say nothing of posthumous accomplishments].
The firs rule is that you should never tell anyone everything you know."
Then, the man halted his speech, awaiting a reply.
The cashier simply laughed, presumably because he had recalled a humous moment,
and I never found out what the second rule was;
thus, success continues to elude me
and I remain a loser, because that wiseman
never finished his existential advice
for a reason I'll never know, not ever.

>>10282375
>anime
HERE
WE
GO

>we
is this why all of these sections look different?

>They came to this world like rain from the heavens.
Give me more image on the opening line. All I see here is a space marine floating against a black background. If you want to use "they" and keep "them" vague, talk about the fire and smoke first so I have something to hide the "they" behind.

>the next couple lines
The fire gives me something to look at but almost all of these lines sound like rewrites of the same fucking line. They all either do the same thing or less of something another line does.

>It was a war that men were never prepared to fight but they struggled.
You need a comma after "fight"; without it, the "prepared" gets looped back into after the conjunction, causing the sentence to read like "It was a war that men were never prepared to fight but instead were prepared to...." and then crash into the "they struggled" really strangely.

> In the face of the beasts and a wall behind their backs,
How the fuck can you stand in the face of something to you back? Put a comma after beasts then change that "and" to a "with". You need the comma or the wall will look like it's behind the beasts after you change the "and" to "with". You could also just add a "with" after the "and" instead.

>...ever valiant against the fate of a resistance doomed to fail.
This is "their" resistance, right? Say it that way instead of making it "a" resistance.

>Before the final flicker of...
BOOM, that's better; brings back the fire.

>fate
make the repetition of this word look... more deliberate, I guess.

>...heroes took the waltz of the maddened and stole their fate right at the fangs of the feared...
why "at" and not "from"?

>Small crystals no bigger than a pearl, it was...
You're trying to shift from plural to singular in ways you really can't. You also need a colon after pearl. Do something like "each no bigger than a pearl: they were..." etc. It's like when you say "Red: the color of blood."

>From the basic senses, to reflex, and to instincts, everything that limited his capability shall be shattered like a false reality.
In the context of this paragraph, that "shall" should be a "would," and you might want to add "upon accepting the crystal" at the end or something.

>But though it allowed the advance to be halted, to call it salvation is still a bad lie to speak
>is still a bad lie to speak
It sounds like you ran out of vocabulary my man. You also shouldn't be transitioning into "is" like that. Just say something like "would be disingenuous" or something like that. Maybe a stronger word, but still.

>about a dozen sentences and all I get is a random WH4k marine I pulled out of my ass, some cool fire with smoke and embers overtop the silhouettes some marching space marine boots, and some magic rocks.
>AND NOW FOR CHAPTER 1
Jesus CHRIST my man, you gotta actually give me something. Paint a fucking picture. I'll make another post in a second about the rest.

>>10282679 (Me)
so still on the subject of the prologue, you shouldn't worldbuild like that. You need accompanying things to keep the reader entertained; make your worldbuilding blocks double as something else. For example, in my work (I usually don't refer to my own work while giving crit) I have some blocks of WB that sort of double as a commentary on the world and indirectly the protagonist, present some figurative imagery, and work as a time-killer while the protagonist sits on a big space elevator. (I'll post it eventually)

Also, something I missed in the prologue:
>They were unknown to the words of peace
you mean that the words were unknown to them? I don't think words know things either way; I assume you mean to say something more than this.

>Chapter I
>Down at the port was an event of a great celebration.
That's like saying "an event of a great event"

>a worthy welcome for the fleet of ships that arrived one by one.
would probably be better to say "ships as they" instead of "ships that" so that it's thought of as something-happening and not just a characteristic by which the ships are selected. Though you run the risk of having people mistakenly thinking that "they" is referring to the people and not the ships, so some bigger rewording might be in order.

>Blacked in smoke, puckered
What the fuck? Pic related, I have no idea why you chose this word. I got the image of black, slightly-charred lips puckering.

>its... every boat
you want "their" not "its"

>carried the mark of a battle that they won
You want "they'd" since this is past from the perspective of the past you are looking at. There are more than three tenses anon.

>All radio waves were focused on .... how humanity slowly made their advance
with the context of the paragraph, you're gonna want to say "slowly had been making" or preferably "had been slowly making" instead of "made"

>The great-war remains unpredictable but
Comma after unpredictable. Why "remains" and not "remained"? I'm really not even sure what tense you're committing to at this point.

>The great-war remains unpredictable but this victory secured one of their...
don't use "the great war" as though it were a subject then hit me with a pronoun for something else immediately after the conjunction. At the very least add a "to them" after "unpredictable" to get me off of "the great war". Or just get rid of the "their" and give me something more specific.

> secured one of their most vital trading routes that eased the suffering of many and greatly increased their efficiency.
when you say "that eased" like this, it's suggesting that you're talking about a trading route that, historically, eased their suffering etc, when what you mean to say is more like "which, in turn, eased the suffering etc". I'm not telling you to phrase it that way though; you could put a comma after "routes" and just say "easing the suffering of many and etc".

at least one more post is incoming

>>10282736 (Me)
Back to the prologue again for a second, I noticed another thing:
>From the basic senses, to reflex, and to instincts, everything that limited his capability shall be shattered like a false reality.
I already pointed this sentance out in my first post for other reasons, but you also should get rid of the comma after "reflex". I'm also not sure why you used "his". Consider the following:
>From the basic senses, to reflexes and to instincts, everything that limited [one's/the host's] capability [could/would] be shattered like a false reality.
could also get rid of the "to" before "instincts"

More "chapter" I:

>So desperate were the people for such a victory
a victory which they just-had, so you say they "had been" not "were"

>Amongst the soldiers who are waving back
just say "Among" and remove "who are"

>Though she was draped in the same attire as any soldier, she was revered by
I would prefer "Although" here
>was revered
OKAY, so, we're in "was," right? Well...
>was revered by everyone as the hero who led their resistance... into the valiant force that they are now.
They "are now," in past tense, so you don't want to say "who lead" since they already were lead to where they presently are in past tense; you want to say "who HAD lead". Again, there are more than three tenses.

>Her presence alone speaks of a spirit that will never falter and a victory that shall not be denied.
"Speaks" and not "spoke," etc? If you want, you can move into that tense here if you really want, but think about it. I'd also change "not" to "never".

>last sentance
just make it part of the previous paragraph

>A character's name, centered on the page.
Alright, I skimmed through really quickly: is this supposed to be a subheading or something "within" the first chapter? When I first saw it I was under the impression that it marked the end of chapter 1 and started... something that wasn't a chapter, I guess.

I might try giving you more tomorrow or something.

>>10280148
No one can critique a brother? I critiqued twice smdh tbqh. Please, brother anons.

When he had anticipated writing this, Joseph had supposed this document would require much preliminary research, but he had now decided to simply write from the knowledge at his disposal. What he was now writing would be more than just deeply personal, it would serve as his means of surviving his own death. His thoughts on various matters and his deepest woes would be eternally remembered in this manifesto. And so they ought to be.

He drew away from the screen of his computer for a moment to suck on the cigarette idling in the ash tray before returning eagerly. At this point it should be relevant information to try and answer the question of just what action this manifesto would be an explanation for. You see, our young protagonist had vague notions about committing glorious acts of violence in settings he despised ever since he had been thrust into the high school eco-system-a system in which he did not fare well socially-at the ripe old age of 14...

>>10280148

To be totally honest with you I was bored the entire way through. But that said I like that you have your own style, I can hear your voice nicely, just this exchange didn't grip me at all.

The switch between active and passive tense is also very jarring (mainly the use of "had" in case you don't know).

>My plan had worked
>I'd asked

and then you say

>I poured your cuppa tea
>I saw your pupils

Can you answer why you used "had" in those sentences, and not in the others? If there's a reason it's not clear.

>>10282788
first two are in the past while the latter two are in the present.

>>10282788
>My plan works
Why would I say this if the narrator's plan already resolved? As other anon said, some things just happened will others were happening. Sad to hear it's boring, I'll try liven it up.
Tense is just what they tell you in writing shops to always bee careful of NEVER changing. Read Pynchon and you'll stop caring.

>>10280148
>>10282782
Fine, fuck, not like I needed sleep anyway. I don't mind but I probably shouldn't set a precedent of responding to beggars

>All unstuck from yourself
this could be a good line if presented to me after I knew what the fuck was going on. You could maybe move it later in the sentence or something and say "all unstuck from itself" with "it" referring to "your being", but then you would sorta cut off the shag rug thing. You can probably figure out something better that what I'm thinking of.

>Floor
not "the floor"?

>Animal from Muppets
This sticks out, and for some reason I keep reading the whole thing as one title even though I know I shouldn't.

>By the time the kettle had boiled over, its dull underside blacked out...
"had been blacked out"? right now it sounds like the underside of the kettle had blacked something else out by the time the kettle itself had boiled over.

>By the time the kettle had boiled over, its dull underside blacked out like [stuff], your eyes fell on me.

Oh, I think what you actually mean is "its dull underside now blacked out like [stuff]". I'm pretty sure using the word "now" is fair game here but ask someone else. You definitely at least need something stuck in there.

>"Tea?" I'd asked
why "I'd" and not "I"? I'm not telling you to change it, but it seemed noteworthy and sorta "thrown out there".

comma after "favor" I think, though Spanish stays capitalized of course.

colon after myself

The progression from sentence to sentence is weird and forced right now; it feels like you had some details you needed to touch on, and you just sorta stretch from one checkpoint to the next unnaturally. The "So" seems unfounded, and the "My voice" sounds very out of the blue and the "My voice" sentence as a whole seems arbitrarily placed until you actually complete it and realize it's a precursor to a quotation. If you started like "With a posh voice..." or something, the "With" would imply that this is a setup etc.

>You had only those eyes
so like, no arms and legs? Do yo uactually mean "only had"?

Period after "evocative".

>looked round yourself
I'd say "around", or least change it to something like " 'round " if this is part of the speaker's dialect.

>the whites swishing and rolling back and forth as you surveyed
Sounds kinda nice but... huh? I'm imagining the iris and pupil moving around on an eyeball, except like, the whites are clear, and the eyeball is full of swishing milk. Is this actually what you intended?

>it was hiding in, your
semicolon in place of the comma

>"Oh, poppet...
it wasn't immediately clear who was speaking here. In the previous paragraph it sounded like the other person was about to start talking.

>mountain peaks
I didn't immediately get that this was supposed to be a smile. Making this line a little more idiotproof would probably be worth it.

>back to the fragments and the rug
I thought these were figurative

>you stood as a whole man
saw a woman until now

>>10282631
the ending was phenomenal. one of the rare poems that actually gets better throughout

>>10282824
Yeah, I didn't explain it very well, but the fragments are literal. The person is broken up into pieces and their eyes are staring at them from different parts of the room.

the the the the the the the
the the the the the
the the the
the the the the the
the

>>10282679
>>10282736
>>10282767
Thanks, man.
I really, really, REALLY need this.

>>10283291
*these

Reposting my poem:

"Anniversary"

Your hair has mantled your head anew; supplely
cups, like that mulish cowlick that still falls over my
forehead, a scuttling fringe under lovely nails
painted purple, pink and blue—
your cheeks and chin in a November blush are cupped in
a cast of hair, of apples and roses dipped in
the sea, a silken halo flashing moonlight into
the past. Our coifs, the colour of charcoal dust,
are draped-on, mine spiralling, yours straight,
caught in your lips, mine hooding my eyes.
Our forms have been altered so in our mutual care;
our faces are the same, and have so much more to wear.

Will anyone take the time read this short and comment a bit on it? I translated it quickly to english, so don't get too tangled up on the language

>>10283291
>>10283293
You can say "this" to refer to a single-group sometimes. "This army," vs "These army-men," etc. It depends on whether or not you're talking about the set or the set's contents.

>>10282881
Oh fuck, so the dude is actually in-fragments, which explains why you didn't use a gendered pronoun until late in the game. So yeah, making the fragments thing more explicitly literal would probably solve a couple of other issues in the process.

This is a drunken meterless ramble.


the charts burn in unknown water
stethoscope sounds like an amplified ceiling fan
I'm wearing out my chalk
watching the days go by on a computer screen floating toward the sun
I scratch my back and can't quite reach the itch
I'll sit here in dog agony
I'll play along a little longer just to get by
if I really let myself go, I'd be the talk of this place
perhaps all my hair should be green and my eyes yellow
but they wont, I'll play along, accordingly, with a failing integrity
up on my mountain where I'm left alone to my devices
I'm bored of the formations before me
I stare at them like they're air
I'm a riddle
I always have been
No one listens, and for that I'm lucky
The day an ear approaches I'll recoil in horror
"Here's my soul" I'll try to say
It wont matter
I've always been ass-first on the Vlad spike
falling into painful eternity that only intensifies when my mind forsees fresh air and mercy
At least I'm not alone in this
If I'm a person, then so are you
Your own battles are yours to chew
I see them in the distance and have all the answers for you
but my own chains are tight and burdened
I can't move and they certainly can't move
I have so much to say to you
It wont help me, but it could help you

>>10283025
A little repetitive, but your meter is superb!
>>10282785
Maybe get rid of the "was now" in the second sentence since it sort of mirrors the "had now" in the previous one. The writing isn't awful, but I feel there is an inescapable edge factor to the subject. I would be glad to see more of it though.

Posting a poem I did last thread, but I changed most of the second stanza.

Curtained beneath the black sleeves of never-light
Buttoned eyes fixated on white heavens above
Praying to fly as would a dove in the night
A field mouse sat in silent wonderment.

Perched on a tree branch, but miles away
When come the day the moonship had sunk
The field mouse had then been drunk soft
On the running liquors of cosmic rivers aloft
And dozed off in the embrace of gentle dew riders.

He tasted a dream of stardust kisses that morning.

>>10283025
THE poem of the year
>>10283794
it's nice but i feel the use of words are too obvious
>>10284231
feel you

I have posted parts of this in other crit threads but no one give me response :(

MARK IN THE SHOPPING MART
And i was looking for a friend of mine. There in the maze of tin and aluminium i lost the sight of you, i caught grin from a sterilized semblance, i read the label stared at the pleased people and you were gone. The wares was to the roof, the roof was the sky, inefficient incandescent light bulbs instead of clouds. And i was seeking for a friend of mine, my walk down the path lit by the ablaze from above when i was under it was a spotlight upon me and my black dress shoes penetrated through the orb and i glowed if you would see from a distance in the heavens over the accumulation i would seem a classical hero with the power in his subsistence. My knife-edged steps echoed my suit was neat and clean and my fingers were making gun gestures in my pockets. Hours of calm walk until a blockade is upon me. A big round middle aged woman, her stomach fatness reaching the ground like a snail. I step on it and she makes wheezing sounds her gaudy gold necklace spins around her walrus neck. I ask
“I am looking for a friend of mine, have you seen him”? She rasps in response her portly bovine cheeks inflamed a bright pink. I ask
“Have you, my heavy fellow. Perhaps have had a companion run out on you? Are you here too, wandering, or in your case, waddling the halls in search for a friend of yours? I say this here building didn’t look as big as this on the outside, i wonder how it would be to be inside you too, big girl. Would all properties here in this zone of unconfirmable size be magnified on the inside? Impossible space made possible? Could i crawl into your mouth and live inside of you?” I am lost in my speech and forgot to loosen the grip on the fat woman’s throat, she releases a thunderous, roaring, last fart, an eulogy to the continuous visible downfall that was her body. The stink takes me back to the smothering clouds of death that reaped so many young men with fair bodies and clean muscles in the trenches. Still, i pay my respects and close her eyes gently with my left hand before continuing the walk, as i journey down the isles new paths open and others diverge but i keep my decided way of succession in my task of searching for a friend of mine, forward. Brands all around, their metal and plastic well sculpted shapes pointing at me from the enveloping shadows towers of convenience packaging.

>>10284322
It took hours before the next hindrance emerged from the increasing darkness around, lights were dying, flickering away like a flame candlesticks. I went from a hero lit from above to a creep, dagger in hand crouching in the dark, if one was to observe me now i looked more a killer than rescuer. I noticed that music had begun serenading from the speakers hanging somewhere out there in the void, Italian disco. Clap, clap, clap, Do you believe in Saudade? Before me now was a surpassingly overweight old woman, a crone if put in old terms. Her wideness made her into a wall. There was leaking some enigmatic fluid from up her skirt, down onto the shopping floor, each big drop leisurely, i dared not crawl under. Her eyes signalled “BEWARE!” and her mouth moved in the process of scrutinization, a hammer upon my head as she spoke the the riddle
“A man truly weeps at two point in his life, and which ones are that?”
I say
“When he believes that love is real, and when the deceivement shows itself”
she says
“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD”
She separates into can trimmed shapes of tissue like pasta going through a colander, i hear a echoey scream going “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” and her partitions becomes transparent and now there is nothing before me but the continuation of my trail. I walk. Weaved together girlish voices sing about dancing with hot oily men. The canisters become more vast, the flicker is the heartbeat of the building,all is obscured in a rag of shadow. My nose hits a concrete wall and it explodes. I cover the clipped bone with my hand and blood makes a glove. I see now that the canisters next to me holds giant fetuses, they are pickled. Bisected misshapen arms, bone thorn sticking out and harlequin heads with their mouths agape like a leviathan of the foggy depths of the sea. The warmth forms a running grip around my arm seeping down to the elbow as if it was the edge of a lance. My reflection was seen in the lucid glass square in the middle of the giant vessels of conservate, superimposed on the face of the friend i was searching for, his head was in there with the rest of the misshapes. I begin to cry and i reach out and put my red gloved hand on the glass. Your face, still so beautiful in there, i say to his lookless eyes. My gut sucks into itself like a steam train crashing with roaring mechanic noise. And i cover my head in red. From beyond this long aisle the beat still blasts.

When he had anticipated writing this, Joseph had supposed this document would require much preliminary research, but he had now decided to simply write from the knowledge at his disposal. What he was now writing would be more than just deeply personal, it would serve as his means of surviving his own death. His thoughts on various matters and his deepest woes would be eternally remembered in this manifesto. And so they ought to be. He drew away from the screen of his computer for a moment to suck on the cigarette idling in the ashtray before returning eagerly. Just what exactly was this manifesto going to be in explanation for? You see, our young protagonist has, for many years now, had vague notions about committing glorious acts of mass violence in settings which he had distaste for; places in which he could never belong. Ever since he had been thrust into the high school eco-system--a domain in which he did not fare well socially--at the ripe old age of 14, these recurring fantasies had been the source of much entertainment, fanciful supposition, and finally, plotting for a real happening. While Joseph certainly wasn’t bullied, he was shy and desired companionship. He realized how autistic it would make him seem to shoot up a school and that was his first motive for writing this manifesto; to show the world that not only was he not autistic, but that he was quite normal except for these fantasies of bloodshed which he kept to himself. Another perception that this action would warrant was that he had delusions of grandeur, narcissism, and other psychological problems. His defense of these charges was difficult since he probably did have all the aforementioned diseases of the mind and wasn’t sure if he cared to avoid their implication in his writing. He had debated to what degree his writing should impress this mental health profile on the readers. Would it be better to be viewed as deranged or a normal 17 year old. He prefered the latter but figured it impossible to completely avoid the former given the nature of his crime.

>>10284322
not sure if this writing is supposed to be a joke but I'm not laughing. It's tiring to read and doesn't make sense to me.

When he had anticipated writing this, Joseph had supposed this document would require much preliminary research, but he had now decided to simply write from the knowledge at his disposal. What he was now writing would be more than just deeply personal, it would serve as his means of surviving his own death. His thoughts on various matters and his deepest woes would be eternally remembered in this manifesto. And so they ought to be. He drew away from the screen of his computer for a moment to suck on the cigarette idling in the ashtray before returning eagerly. Just what exactly was this manifesto going to be in explanation for? You see, our young protagonist has, for many years now, had vague notions about committing glorious acts of mass violence in settings which he had distaste for; places in which he could never belong. Ever since he had been thrust into the high school eco-system--a domain in which he did not fare well socially--at the ripe old age of 14, these recurring fantasies had been the source of much entertainment, fanciful supposition, and finally, plotting for a real happening. While Joseph certainly wasn’t bullied, he was shy and desired companionship. He had always been too lonely for his own comfort.

He realized beforehand what kind of impression shooting up a school would and that became his first motive for writing this manifesto; to show the world that not only was he not an autistic faggot, but that he was quite normal except for these fantasies. Another perception that this action would warrant was that he had delusions of grandeur, narcissism, and other psychological problems. His defense of these charges was difficult since he probably did have all the aforementioned diseases of the mind and wasn’t sure if he cared to avoid their implication in his writing. He had debated to what degree his writing should impress this mental health profile on the readers. Would it be better to be viewed as deranged or a normal 17 year old. He preferred the latter but figured it impossible to completely avoid the former given the nature of his crime.

Preamble:

>>this is where I write some shit in his manifesto that is peppered through the story


Let me know what you guys think. The subject matter is supposed to be edgy but also kinda a satire. so if its not good it's satire

The Song of the Heart
Is an ethereal roar,
Like a geyser bursting,
From under Our feet,
Reaching endlessly towards the sky,
And proudly existing beneath all sound.

It was poured like wine,
Into a sick longing cup,
Streaming through the cracks of,
My just broken shell.
The song took me near and I flew
Like a wand pulled through a lake by a string.

Impregnated with love,
It is the song of my home,
I was lead to the band
And there I sat down.
Beholding the voices soft and
So humble, but louder than the rancour

Of that bold city --
Twirling and laughing we played
I said "I thought I knew
You all this time but
I had not known that you always knew me"

This dual knowing has
Broughton us so much closer.
Now I lay in her lap
As a shrub that is
Gleefully adorned by the veils
Of an eternal and forgiving love.

>literally no websites seem to let you have automatic first line indentation
paste the text into word if you want it. Using docs because pastebin doesn't have italics.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1MUf4OuWJqQnUmEHED3l7MtDA3oqR0Ch1qqRQ82SejnA/edit?usp=sharing

The first chapter is pretty much fine from what I can tell. The second chapter has a small handful of things I want to change. The other two are the ones that are actually in need of crit if you want to save your breath.

>>10282246
anyone?

>>10281571
my yard

Unlocked doors, short gates, dark lights
give me a reason to crawl on the asphalt
A pack of cigarettes, spare change, maybe your backpack
Oh wait, it's empty, let's set it aside
there's a nice set of speakers in this ride

It's a tough life, between you and me,
People so paranoid they install more security
It's not my fault you left your shit unhitched
serves you right for being careless, bitch

It's no thrill for me, I just like getting even
One small splinter won't sink the ship
Don't expect to be shot or be beaten
that's for the real criminals, unless you wanna get clipped?

Tell the police that your belongings are all gone, figure
they've got better things to do than find your lost family pictures
We're both on the short end of the stick
Take it or not, we both gotta pay those corporate dicks

So appreciate my favor, I'm off for today
I did good
Several thousand dollars is way above my pay
Let me just climb into my car
Before you've checked outside, and walked across-shit he's fast
Don't break the window, I'll open the door
I meant to give this to you later
Don't go for the face, it's mine okay?

>>10279204
bad
>>10279860
bad
>>10281517
bad
>>10281556
bad
>>10281639
good
>>10282631
bad

>>10285616
>Fleetwood Mac Dre,
>jams till the jelly plan to play
>to show the shrewd crowd
>that sometimes waiting pays
>until waiting's the game we play.

bro. this is at least redeeming.

Is it weird that I feel more comfortable with the idea of submitting my writing to a publisher than I do with the idea of letting my mom see it?

It's not even sexual or disgusting or anything. It's just that the last time she saw it she insulted it and I was so shocked that even she hated it that I quit writing for six months

>>10285937
>tfw mom wouldn't read or watch anything with violence in it under any circumstances with the exception of james bond films
>tfw my dad is dyslexic and has only read about a dozen books in his entire life in spite of having a PhD and somehow being a pretty good technical writer
>parents will never ever read my work unless it gets made into some watered down movie or television series
at least it means I can write porn

>>10279473
Youre both shit at it

Here's one I'm going to make up, on the spot.

In the house next to mine, there lived a family. There was a mother, a father, two daughters, and two sons. One of the sons did not live there anymore, and so I guess we could call him normal then. He wore the clothes you would expect to see of that time, drove a car that was probably not too expensive, as far as cars go, but probably not too cheap either, and he behaved somewhat like an aggreaved construction worker, as if he was never going to make ends meet and someone was perpetually dissapointed in him.

In fact, I only saw him a few times, always solemnly walking up to the house of his family, lit cigarrette in his left hand, arm, swaying nonchalantly while his right hand remained firmly tucked into his trouser pocket, and his head hung down as if he did not really want to be there.

That's it for now

>>10284460
You lost my interest after your first question. You shouldn't ever answer your own questions. You want the reader to keep asking questions. You never really want to get to the point.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4bTq16OXF8

critique my poetic short film.

well i guess you can decide if it's poetic or not.

Apollon peaked at him behind the shutters of the cuisine. Young Innocentius was chomping small bits of grapes while playing with his toys. With the left he held a brazen statue of a cavalier, which he moved threatingly close to a miniature wall made of eatern corn stacked on top of each other. Innocentius struck the corn with force and the cavalry came out victorious. His little teeth formed a delicate and adorable smile.

Apollon was proud of him and wondered if he could conquer the burder that would be placed ontop of him

>>10286345
Daniil Kharms?

>>10288219
The kid seemed surprised at the sight of Apollon's small brown eyes gazing at him. Apollon went for the balcony door and as soon as he entered the chamber Innocentius hugged him. "Sir!' he exclaimed with obvious excitement. Apollon played with his dark blonde curls and reached for his pocket. "Oh. What is this?" he said. "A token of my respect towards you, my Prince" Apollon told him. Innocentius grabbed it and flailed it around. "Thank you! Thank you! You're the best, sir!" the young prince shouted.

"My Prince" said Apollon in a serious tone, trying to hide his smile. Innocentius sat on his lap. "Is it time for another story? About Knight Thomas and his grand charge against the pretender? Or maybe when Theodore the Bard seduced the Queen with his golden mouthed words?" the kid was fully of energy and it was hard to deny him.

Apollon laughed. "My Prince, the time of fairytales comes before bedtime. You just woke up!" he said and Innocentius nodded with disappointment. "I'm here to talk about your mother. As you are aware, she is very sick. I don't want to worry you nor talk ill about her, but the Empress may leave us soon. You do know what happens once she's gone, right?"

"I become the Emperor in her place, right?" he said and Apollon nodded. "Do you know how to rule?" he told him. "I don't think so.." said Innocentius while looking at the floor, giving a sad look. "But you will teach me to, correct? You've been with me since I was born!" the Prince continued.

>>10288219
>>10288290
Reads like a waft of shit carried in our November's hostile wind.

What an impressive provenance that would allow something like what you wrote to make it all the way to our lovely rehearsal dinner here—and here you present to us on a plastic cafeteria tray something that hot shame should have had you chuck in the garbage before it got out of yr hands, into the keys & into my eyes.

>>10284460
What an electric event between our souls—how can we express our gratitude for ENTRANCE into yr fractal interior? The soul transforming expression of a soul transformed—your terrible horned demon chained & tamed & bent to the crafting of mind piercing word-arrows→All I request is more.

>>10282305
An arabesque of unthinking, unthought laziness. Visionless. An imperceptible line between garbage and trash drawn. So thx 4 that.

>>10280440
>not unlike

>>10284504
>no crit
I guess I'll just post some separate paragraphs I wasn't sure about

>[Protag, in a ruined building, just figured out where his target is; city is a red and black samurai jackesque sort of place]
>Travis burst back out the front door. By now it was late enough for him to have enough legroom to run through the streets, so he did. There was never a big crowd near the docks anyway; most people didn’t move very much. But one of the men at the docks, he looked pretty fidgety. It seemed like he was trying to fix something on a ship which may or may not have been his. Travis was surprised at how exposed the man was; he was just standing there in his denim jacket with his oily hair, over a pile of around a dozen cigarettes and almost as many parts. As the man closed the hatch to what he was working on, Travis came up behind him, drew his most polished revolver, and made his presence known. Yen slowly put his hands up.
I feel like this is a lazy transition; it looks like I'm cutting to the chase. I've also gotten some shit for using the word "legroom" this way; it makes me think of stretching my legs and gives me a birds-eye view of the character sprinting, but most people seem to see a guy sitting in a chair the instant they come across the word. I also started a sentance with "but," which is something I normally only do at the start of a paragraph if at all.

>[city has been described as well lit with empty streets]
>...Travis turned back around and walked up into the city.
>The hill was steep. As Travis hiked, he saw kids on bicycles starting to come around the corner. The shimmering spokes of their spinning rear wheels flicked the playing cards that had been fixed to their frame, producing a loud motorcycle-like noise as they flew past Travis and down the hill. He thought it was smart, but also disappointing in a way; it was an imitation. He turned back and saw one final boy on a bike struggling to get around the bend. The boy carried a large flag while repeatedly declaring himself the group’s “gang leader," but the banner proved too heavy for the child, causing him to wobble and flip right over his handlebars, splatting straight onto the road ahead of him. However, the boy was not discouraged; without hesitation, he climbed right back on his bike, hastily chasing after the children he’d claimed to be leading.
>The walk sign dinged on. ...
Is that clear? Do the details pop up in the right order? I didn't want to overexplain but I also wanted the mechanism on the bicycles to look ingenious in a childish sort of way.

>>10288831
So you know it's the equivalent of explosive diarrhea—each word & sentence just justed out on the document—you want advice, stupid? Each word needs to be a gravestone, mined from under the flesh of the earth, sending its carved memory up towards that nearly black sky w/its light pollution obscuring the blank ink of space.

And you wonder why you ain't got our eyes.

>>10289059
I got nothing but thumbs ups when I posted porn shorts anon; I'm smart enough to know its the document length thats scaring people off, you don't need to bait.

>>10289067
"Thumbs up" on yr porn shorts. Thumbs up from the dopes hoping for complimentary compliments—yeah, sorry, please get in line with the unrecognized geniuses posting in the critique thread—how did I mistake you for a dummy who writes like a boring loser? Please 4give me %[

Open a window, you may not be getting enough oxygen.

>>10289102
Seems like you're the one who's at your wit's end anon. Post some work.

>>10289114
Dude he is clearly trolling why are you responding?

>>10289135
Because I knew he wouldn't be able to respond to that comment before someone else did. He's typing something up right now, as we speak.

>critz 4 critz
Nine AI reports on the impact of the gov district assault spooled across a silent car screen. Aside from the many physical and psychological issues involving any war zone deployment, the people in and around the district had been exposed to a unique mix of hazards not previously experienced on Blone. These included ingestion of large doses of pyridostigmine bromide to protect from the effects of nerve agents. Radioactive munitions, countermeasures and bespoke biochemical weapons. Subway system filled with anthrax and botulinum. Oil and smoke spewing fires presented another hazard. City was coping with swarms of genetically modified insects, requiring the widespread use of pesticides. High powered microwaves were blasting across the air to disrupt communications the emissions exceeding safety limits for electromagnetic radiation. Several square kilometers of downtown City were covered in semi-conscious area-denial cluster munitions, in a deliberate use of illegal weapons by the air force. 248,000 Worldenders had their security ruptured by marines, cult leader killed on screen. Then exposed to a crude mass memic hypnosis, forced onto empty highways by a police cordon, and hunted by lobotomizing machines.
Gluos was passed out in the parking lot of the presidential palace in the front seat of the company car. The yellow sun had set; gone orange and was glinting in his side mirror. He opened his eyes, raised his arms and wiped his mouth. His suit was torn. Assistant was piled in the backseat with three sleeping women. They had been there almost all day and the insides of the car were plastered with trash. Outside sparks flew, wavering in gusts of wind, caught in helicopter spotlight. Data displayed on the dashboard, a flatline of a company profile. He had a conference call scheduled in two minutes. The call started. Gluos cleared his throat. “Hey guys, how’s it going over there?”

>>10289135
Read what he shared & then tell me I'm trolling.

>>10289374
You're trolling

>>10289827
Face facts :^)

It's not worth engaging. Clearly. Just be happy I read it and let you know what I thought. Writing off criticism as trolling is pathetic.

Wrote some verse today to the tune of the Catdog Theme.

>One sad day came no woof, just a purr
>Cat tried to get up, but dog didn't stir.
>Never could imagine
>reaper'd just take one,
>leave a weeping feline with a dead hangdog.

>Is it fair?
>Who can say?
>Alone in the world was a little half-cat.

>Dog half's buried, but Cat's above ground.
>Can't let them bones just weigh you down.
>Gotta rise above it.
>Gotta try to get along.
>His body may rot, but his soul lives on.

>In your heart,
>through your blood.
>The memory of Dog isn't all you have.
>Dog's dead,
>gone away.
>This lone half-cat will never be the same.
>This lone half-cat will never be the same.

:)

>>10289901
I'm neither of the people you're responding to.

>>10279204
I have a hard time focusing on writing subjects, /crit/. I get started alright but I lose sight of where I'm going. I feel like I'm in a slump.

Any tips?

>>10289939
Ha-ha and I'm none of you!

>>10289973

>>10289059
>our

>>10289980
Being this stupid, this publicly.

>>10289998
>our
>9998
You almost had it :^)

>>10289114
>>10289374
>tell anon to post work
>immediately he vanishes
>comes back a couple hours later, probably having spent all of the time writing something up
>too afraid to post it
Your next line is: "I just didn't like the genre"

>>10289341
Other than the first three lines, I like the descriptions in the rest of the first paragraph. Maybe change
>these included ingestion...
to fit the disconnection that the rest of the lines follow.
The first two lines seem so matter-of-fact in a way that doesn't flow with the tone of the rest of the lines.
I think I feel the same way with the second paragraph. The first line has too much info
>parking lot
>presidential palace
>front seat
>company car
maybe trim it down.
I like the next line, but again, make it more succinct like
>The sun had gone orange and was glinting in his side mirror.

>>10290019
wat

rate my shitty shit, i know its a mess but so am i

>impressive geoff
>in less then a year
>you can take gold
>and turn it into shit
>its built in
>its obligatory
>cant be happy too long
>right
>use self sabotage like an elixer
>push them away
>then bitch and moan when their gone
>like the wound isnt self inflicted
>impressive geoff
>start to fight
>when the battle is over
>a lone soldier
>fighting a battlefield of corpses
>and you still end up
>waving a white flag
>shes gone
>she left you
>mastermind of my own undoing
>palm reader
>of a self fulfilling prophecy
>impressive geoff
>a beautiful woman
>and one to be
>forced from your life
>now whos to blame
>fear
>insecurity
>vanity
>shame
>an inability to state all this
>before the death warrant is signed
>huh
>impressive geoff

>>10290340
I really even shouldn't be responding.

>>10279221
Your writing was so awful that pastebin removed it

>>10289341
Genius on /lit/ is becoming increasingly expressed in the critique threads.

Tight grammar, silky continuity, thrumming logic beneath—a step function of depth. The ticking of a mind with a furnace crackling with all it sees.

>>10289341
I agree with >>10290195 in that the first line gives too much stuff, but I'd cut it differently:
>Nine AI reports on the impact of the gov district assault spooled across a silent car screen.
I stopped and reread this and got a good image, but the time it takes for the event to play out is way less than the time it takes to read the sentence. Why specify nine reports? I'm gonna stop seeing reports pop up eventually if you just introduce them in a terminal fashion. And why give me details as to what the reports are right now? I'm not gonna imagine all of the little words on all nine reports that just popped up. Just let me see some bright browser windows pop up on a dark screen.

I don't like how the name "Blone" comes in out of nowhere and then doesn't get touched on.

After that you have a couple of incomplete sentences. It looks like you're using them as list elements. If you want to do that, but need a punctuation mark with more authority than a comma, use a semicolon.

>These included ingestion of
I want to tell you to add a "the" before "ingestion".

>City was coping
Again, "the".

>High powered microwaves were blasting across the air to disrupt communications the emissions exceeding safety limits for electromagnetic radiation.
This sentence is just spaghetti; what am I supposed to be seeing? Refer to my criticisms of your first line.

All of those issues reappear in a couple other parts of the essay; I'm not gonna point them out redundantly.

>The yellow sun had set; gone orange and was glinting in his side mirror.
I mean, I got an image, and I can kinda see why you wanted to phrase it this way ("the good times have passed" or something) but it's clunky. That also isn't how you use a semicolon.

>His suit was torn.
Why not "He looked down; his suit was torn."?

>Assistant was
"His"? "The"?

>He had a conference call scheduled in two minutes. The call started.
That was a really fast two minutes. Could put the clears throat thing before the call at the very least, or just lower the time.

>>10290340
>>then bitch and moan when their gone
I don't usually critique poetry, but you should at least use the right they're/their/there. I'm also pretty sure most people don't greentext their lines.

>>10281639
you got a blog or something?
where can I read more of your work?

>>10290929
I don't, but if you think there'd be a demand for it, I'll consider creating one.

"It's mankind,"
my mother George gestures,
"Not man—mean!"
emphasizing the last syllable
lost on the first
(you know, the one denoting the chromosomal question:
why?)
"Can you get me a water?"
she asks walking through the foyer
(we call it the foyer,
hence the marble flooring)
as I terminate a business call
wondering aloud like a thump
why I still live at home this many score into life
(a low score to be sure).
"Can't you get it yourself?"
I inquire, with Rawlsian gusto.
Enter: righteously indignant tirade anent scion duty.
Oh—cellular autonomy failing—I forgot,
I am the mouth that bites the hand it feeds
that slaps the mouth that needs
bemoaning the megalomaniacal stampede,
indeed: a great website for discovering jobs around you,
all you need is a CV first,
polish it like SinDee does poles.

Territorial boundaries dissolve
under the umbrella of an empire
even if the mesh breathe translucently
blocking not the sun, but the ability to fly.

In case it isn't clear
(the message, not the bottle
(quiet McLuhan))
matriarchal toxicity
erodes the constitution of not only the family unit
(I'd totally bang old lady Windsor:
God Save the CREAM)
but also the tightly bottled spirit
of the prodigal son:
a Starburst sucking starry eyed constellation
of seven brown dwarves
and premature supernovae ejaculate
occasionally called shame.

lol jk lmao ttyl
(losing our love,
Jesus kills
little mice across orchestras
temporally toying, yanking liberty)

>>10290954
really dude I love the poem you posted. it's so refreshing to read something of such high quality here.

If you don't have a blog, at least post some more poems.

I want to stay updated on your future work. is there any way I can do this?

>>10291063
Thanks a million, my man—that's insanely encouraging. As for my poetry, I gotta be honest and say that they vary heavily in terms of quality. Sometimes I get lucky and crank a pretty piece out, but most of the time it's just scrap metal. And this isn't feigned modesty, just a natural byproduct of how I write: incredibly lazily, zero editing, etc. And because I'm a sloth, it's unlikely I'd get my shit together enough to broadcast anything on a more structured platform—rather than in the comfortably faceless ephemera of 4chan. But we'll see

Anyway, here's one I slung out about my narcissistic mother: >>10291013

(and thanks again man, I appreciate it hugely)

Here's mine.

>pastebin.com/DJBJ3Fr9

Working on this, it's the start of my weebshit isekai cultivation story.
The feeding isn't just fetish fuel.

>>10282375
>As the sweetness of her lips filled me with the taste of her love, I closed my eyes and let her linger for a while. The sensation of her lips against mine made my heart flutter with glee but at the moment she broke off, I finally felt the true bitter aftertaste of a final farewell.

Some of your prose is overworked but we're all guilty of that.
I read it and haven't really had a chance to critique it properly but this jumped out at me, that's not what kisses with people you're incredibly attracted to do.

You get light headed and feel (it) in your chest, what you've described is a tingle in the lips and an after taste.

Lo! Sirens hear my plea!
May Rachael please go out with me,
For you i've taken to doing my homework and read,
For you, Rachael, i'll even quit smoking weed
I love you so, o' dolorous anxiety
Please give way, so I can love Rachael so pretty

>>10291013
You would be doing yourself a favor if you tried writing some poems without all the punctuation

>>10282375
>>10292253
>>As the sweetness of her lips filled me with the taste of her love, I closed my eyes and let her linger for a while. The sensation of her lips against mine made my heart flutter with glee but at the moment she broke off, I finally felt the true bitter aftertaste of a final farewell.
I'm not gonna go through all of 10282375's story, but assuming theres context before these lines which lets me know whats going on, the first half of the first sentance should be cut entierly. Too much her and her-lips in the paragraph because of it. The last half of the line sounds fine on its own.

>>10288831
In the second get rid of "down the hill" and change "while repeatedly delclaring" to "and repeatedly declared". If the alliteration is on purpose you could change road to street.

>>10292593
k

>>10290195
>>10290451
>>10290922
Hey thanks for all your guys inputs and comments. I owe y'all some crits, just post this pic with your stuff and I'll crit it, I lurk these threads pretty hard so hopefully I catch it. Or not, just know you helped.

>>10293528
Mine's >>10288831 if you just want to see my worst two paragraphs. Take what >>10292670 said into account about it.

>>10284485
underrated

Der letzte Tag, ein Samstag, brach um sieben Uhr fünfunddreißig an, als N.M. klingelte. Sieben Uhr fünfunddreißig: Die Augen unseres Helden, D.F., bewegten sich rapide hinter seinen zugezogenen Lidern, Wasser mag doch jeder, das Klingeln dingdongdingdong dingdongdingdong dingdongdingdong vermochte ihn erst beim dritten - aber nicht letzten - Läuten zu wecken, dummer Hurensohn, dummer Bastard, und er verließ das Bett (lechzte, lechzte, lechzte), noch im Gestern verfangen, das erst um vier Uhr vier erlosch, mit einer Bewegung, einer Rührung, die die allerletzte dieser Art bleiben sollte. Ein Mann wächst nur bis zu einem bestimmten Punkt, das Namensschild an seiner Tür, der Türrahmen. Kleiner Hurensohn, nichtsnutzig, albern. Ein Blick aus dem Fenster, schlagartig wach, als hätte er noch nie geschlafen: Ein grauer VW Polo auf dem Parkplatz - ach was - der Zahnarztpraxis. Dort stand er zuerst im Sommer zweitausendsechzehn, zuletzt vor einem Jahr. Also, sieben Uhr sechsunddreißig, dingdongdingdongdingdongdingdong, kein Vogel war zu hören, öffnete D.F. seinen Schrank, derweil N.M. vor der Tür stand, warum - er wollte ihn ermorden - wusste nur er, allein, einsam, keiner sonst, auch wenn D.F. es hätte wissen müssen; vor 15 Jahren schon, gottloses Stück Scheiße, hätte er es wissen müssen, kétségtelenül. Er trat auf eine Plastikflasche, er war schon angezogen. Sieben Uhr siebenunddreißig. Gestern Nacht hat er wunderschön gekotzt, ist auf seinen Magen gefallen, mehrmals, immer wieder. Heute Morgen: Nicht einmal Vögel hört man, dingdong dingdong dingdong. Er ging die Treppe runter, wie jeden Tag. Sieben Uhr siebenunddreißig. Die Tür ging auf. Er hat wunderschön gekotzt, gestern noch, ist auf seinen Magen gefallen, ja, jetzt ist alles dumm, jetzt ist alles blöd, kein Vogelgeschwitzer vernahm er. N.M. stand vor ihm, wie ein Baum, hinter ihm war der Rest, die Sonne fiel auf seinen Nacken, unverändert. Der Rest: Sein Auto, die Straße, die Zahnarztpraxis, weiter rechts das Tanzstudio. Er, N.M., versuchte sein Grinsen - er grinste wie ein Schwertfisch -, wie immer zu unterdrücken, meistens gelang es nicht, --Sag auch, warum du lachst, D.F. fragend, selber lachend, er musste nach oben gucken, seinen Kopf heben, um in sein Gesicht zu gucken, sein Rücken tat weh, seit Jahren schon tat er weh, trotzdem hob er seinen Kopf, um in sein Gesicht zu gucken, entwürdigend war das, sieben Uhr achtunddreißig war es. Das wusste er nicht, konnte es nicht wissen.
--Hat seine Gründe, immer noch wie ein Schwertfisch.
--Seit wann bist du in V.?
--Seit ... Er schloss seinen Mund, musterte das Vorzimmer, als wäre D.F. nicht anwesend.

>>10288831
>>10293678
Going to take a stab at the style. Just looking at these two paragraphs I see a lot of qualifiers and adjectives that in my opinion are not needed. This is my reaction to the 20-30 year old demographic that needs to put qualifiers in front of everything they say.

>, he looked pretty fidgety.
looked fidgety (can also lose the comma if you drop he)
>It seemed like he was trying to fix something on a ship which may or may not have been his.
Like he was trying to fix something that was not his.
>he was just standing there in his denim jacket with his oily hair, over a pile of around a dozen cigarettes and almost as many parts.
He was standing there in his denim jacket, oily hair, above dozens of cigarettes and almost as many parts.
>drew his most polished revolver
drew his polished revolver (unless its a joke that he has differently polished guns)

The second paragraph reads better, it's clear and the details don't get in the way.

>>10294320
>>drew his most polished revolver
>drew his polished revolver (unless its a joke that he has differently polished guns)
That actually is the joke: the protagonist is a bit of a tool who carries six mismatched revolvers.

The ship thing was also nessecary for later, though in hindsight I should probably just introduce it somewhere else and/or redo/split that whole paragraph if mentioning it that way looks bad. I definitely agree with you though. I'll probably take that to heart while rereading my work since it can be applied generally.

A little boat floats on a pale grey sea
with sails painted just as brilliantly

>>10291682
I like it. it reads nicely and paints a good picture. I hope it's not overly political

>>10291682
I don't like it. It reads awkwardly and doesn't paint a good or coherent picture. Many people—excuse me—many people are saying—so sad.

>>10291682
The opening line could be broken up, and I didn't like the comma splices. Putting that aside, I liked most of it. The congo line thing rubbed me the wrong way, and the "picked The Bargainer from off the ground and into an alleyway" didn't make sense to me. How do you pick someone into an alleyway? And the wording around here sounds all forced; the first sentence starts "The girl picked up on" and then the one after the next reads "The girl got up and picked". Also, I would continue the final paragraph instead of ending on that line.

I know a lot of poets and they're really
Fucking stupid
Why's that?
Why do I know em?
No, why are they stupid?
Because they try really hard
And fail
Instead of trying something different
Ask yourself
Why do shitposters
Always have an image?
Why does Rupi Kaur always have an image?
(Here's the answer, so try and be original)
(You won't get anywhere color-coding your text with parentheticals)
I'm gonna shove your em–dash down my dick hole and tickle my testicles
Morty, I'm gonna tickle my testicles!
Oh god I'm gonna cum Morty!
I'm gonna cum out of my Pickle Rick!
Because you're a red faced little kid who's allergic to public speaking like a little bitch
Here’s how it is:

If you need it
You can’t have it
So lay off the carrots, you fat rabbit

>>10294724
>gives hilariously bad advice
>concludes with "I would..."

>>10294801
>defending comma splices

>>10291682
I'm too ignorant to give worthwhile advice on prose but the concept is fucking 10/10

>>10294423
>>10294542
>>10294724
>>10294820
Thanks for all the critques guys! I may post more later with (hopefully) better writing.

>That one anon who knows exactly who he is who has been giving out consistently horrible and worthless advice over multiple threads.
Get a trip so we can filter you faggot.

>>10294962
I second the notion of >>10294542 getting a trip

so is it illegal for writers to publish erotic literature with underage characters or what because any time I look at something involving high school online they always mention how the characters are 18

The bustling crowd managed to guide the pair of them to exactly where they didn’t want to be: the center of the dance floor.
As soon as michael realized this, the music changed. Going from the peppy tune to something deeper and moodier.
“Mike, the music's changed. Is that bad?”
“Probably.”
The crowd, they realized, was pulling back. Leaving them in the center of the dance floor. It didn't seem intentional, as the pulled out crowd was retreating to tables to drink and chat, but it was too clean a move. Something was wrong…
A gunshot brought the room to silence.
Garys eyes immediately shot to the girl standing near the employee entrance.
Another flapper. Curly, dark red hair. Cute face. Smoking revolver.
Actually, it was the last point that had his attention.
“You! Youve gotta lotta nerve comin here after the things you've done!”
She marched forward, coming straight up to look up at gary.
“You heartbreaker! I can't believe you, Jimmy.”
The crowd let out a intrigued “oooo!”
“Mike. what. is . going. On.” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, keeping his eyes on the girl.
“It seems like we've been drafted into one of the show events.”
“They do those here?”
“Yeah. usually it’s the “cops raiding the joint”.”
“The gun is fake, right?”
“Of course.”
The girl started to speak again.
“Leavin me for that… that tramp!” she waved the gun accusatively at Michael. “and then comin here to rub it all in my face. I oughta plug you both! Right now!”
“Yeah, tell him girl!”
“What a jerk!”
“Plug ‘im!”
The crowd's jeers failed to distract gary from an odd scent sneaking into the room. Backing away from the girl, he turned to ask mike if he smelled it too, but was disturbed to see a vampish woman where his friend had been. She was holding her hand over her mouth and nose and scowling at him.

>>10295174
“M-mike?”
“God dammit, did you get the gas?”
“G-gas?”
“Some people are shitty at getting into character, so at important junctures like this they pipe in extremely hallucinogenic gas. If you got a dose of it, you're not gonna know what's real for hours.”
The wooping crowd had seemed awfully unperturbed by the gunshot. It made a bit more sense now how the whole place worked so smoothly.
“Say your prayers, Jimmy!”
The gun fired again, sending a very real bullet flying past garys ear.
“MIKE!”
The pair of them split in opposite directions as another bullet went flying.
“You said the gun was fake!”
“Usually, they are! I think ryans trail may have just got hot again.”
“You dirty louse! Get back here!”
Dashing wildly, it soon became apparent the dance floor was solidly surrounded. A wall of grinning patrons had them trapped. Having traced the perimeter, gary and mike found themselves next to each other again, and once again at the end of the gun.
“Gary, I have an idea for how to get out of this.”
“What is it?”
“Theres one thing this place is never allowed to do: break character.”
“So?”
“Even if it's trying to kill us, it's trying to do it in a way that looks like it's all part of the show. We just have to resolve this situation in a way that doesn't involve us dying.”
“Oh, is that all? How do we do that?”
“Like this.”
Mike stepped back and slapped gary across the face as hard as possible, sending him spinning to the floor.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“You rat! You left this girl for me?”
“What? Have you gone insane?!”
“No, you idiot.” hissed mike. “I'm saving our asses. Play along.”
Mike turned around and folded his arms.
“I'm not going to stick around and be shot at by some girl you cheated with me on. Goodbye jimmy.”
Strutting towards the exit, mike was pleased to see the crowd part for him, allowing him to exit.
Gary tried to follow, but found himself blocked.
“Wait! Mike!”
“Just do what i did! Act your way out!”
Garys blood chilled as he felt the cold barrel of a gun push against the back of his head.
“Jimmy… give me one reason not to blow your nasty little brains all over this floor!”
Swallowing, he turned.
“Be-because…. Uh….”
Deciding anything was worth a shot, he went for broke.
“Because I still love you, Roxy.”
The girl seemed taken aback.

>>10295190
“What?”
“Vira was just a nice pair of legs, and i was a real stinker not to see that.”
“Roxy” as she was now called, staggered back a bit.
“Think of everything we ever said to each other. Does all of that lose its meaning just cause i ran off with another dame for a week? I promise, i'll never do anything like that ever again! I swear!”
Something was clearly wrong with roxy. She seemed to be vibrating almost, as she took another step back.
“You have the g-g-g-gall to try that?”
Mike realized right away what was going on. The instruction to kill them both was being superseded by the instruction to stay in character at all times. The two commands were battling for control.
Finally, there was a loud pop whirr and pop sound, and she dropped the gun.
“Oh, jimmy!” she squealed, jumping forward into his arms and kissing him.

>>10295018
It depends on what country your live in.

Most people don't want to write loli/ shota shit though.

>>10283794


>I think it's good but it has basically what I said below

Am I just stupid or is anyone else here having to look up a ton of words in these posts? How do I increase vocab and have it permanent / be able to draw on such descriptive and unique words?

>Be me
>new to writing
>just started last week
>also new to reading (gave up gaming + fapping)
>always wanted to tell stories didn't care what medium
>but procrastinated and day dreamed instead
>ItsNotTooLateItaNeverTooLate.3daygraceEXE

Loving these hobbies so far. Seems hard to learn what makes something good/ how to write etc.

Can anyone tell me if you see gradual improvement from phase 1 - 3?

>A short poem about Fa'Glohm, One of the lesser cosmic beings/forces who had been sealed away from his own creation-Earth, which in these ancient times is known as "Feñgarr"

Here goes nothing! (nervous)

1
The force Fa'Glohm forgotten,
The force Fa'Glohm unknown,
The beings of Feñgarr trembled,
For, it; had come back home.

When all hope was lost,
And times appeared bleak,
'twas not the arms of the strong
But the courage of the weak

2
The force Fa'Glohm forgotten,
The force Fa'Glohm unknown,
The beings of Feñgarr tremble,
For it; had come back home!

When all hope was lost,
And times appeared bleak,
'twas not arms of the strong
But courage from the weak

Sealed away in stone,
They reveled without concern,
Unaware of the horror,
Fa'Glohm would one day return

3
The force Fa'Glohm forgotten,
The force Fa'Glohm unknown,
The beings of Feñgarr trembled,
For it; had came back home!

When all hope was lost,
And times appeared bleak,
'Twas not the mighty' who prevailed
But courage from the weak

Sealed away in stone,
They reveled without concern,
Unaware of the horror,
Fa'Glohm would one day return.

>>10288219
>>10288290
Really good

Winding the turn all, stopping the flow crash the turn ratio down winding the furnace trip down the steam of sledge hogs the run way turbulance the saidge the saint the smith the archer, show the turn it back the let loose wyling the tabernacle the chiefs breif case the free for all know it all wysabi, ok lets go upon the pondifurous yonder and seek out over barren that everylasting and go there and stay, dining with the heavens courses for wares unbespoken, the tell winds meerry team, unpaltry haberdashery, a snug bug is a bird in the boot when you cant scoot your whistle, you know what they say the way dug is the wedding between the side of wonder and the wreath of frame, the multipley curious phenom, oh its okay, to sit in your lab coats and smugly shrug a little dipsy doodle, exceedingly the time of your lifes always, oh my god dont you know its heaven and more, thats all its about, the best lives are possible, we float on snow beams, we touch the harness of the heart meme and ripple its monument husstle down, the envelope is carnivorous and is placed in the epi chamber of the memory of damaged hard drives and reknighting, excuse me, reckoeniging, sorry, reconning, oh jeez a weird flavor I really do beg you to pardon me reckoning devices. The headlines were marked with green wicker and ensembled as if the county chief were the county mayor in some backwards made for tv sci fi test dummy top secret government project world state. The sarge gents were of the uppity type and would march much more than head long in more than single file down the cantteen and station halls, chanting orders and commands, there is only victory and destiny, there is only victory, there is only control, there is only perfect motion, there is only completion, there is only embarking, there is only perfect measure, there is only the perfect chef, there is only perfect vigor, there is only perfect honor, there is only perfect form, there is only combat, there is only charge, there is only order, there is only protection of that order, there is only the merry chamber maids dancing and gallooping upon the stage and dagerdely dallooping their spaghetti up outwit the jollymens pantaloons, the cardboard cashmere sweater vests and nipple tassles, the leaopard scarf and chair and the techno music and the marching orders and logger in vermont the wild wet and tumbler the ripped lolly gogger, the big and mighty pagwag, the strong and steady and fast and slow wild logger, walking down around fort base, sniffing out the scene, on this merry day.

"Attention!, Acelrion, have you seen Private Commander Perry Winkel?"

"I don't believe I can tell you that poncho, you see, the matter is kind of private"

"enough of the jokes you fucking retarded faggot fucker"

"I believe he went up to the mezzinine to gaze at the stark blue starry sky in consignment hedgemoney bliss, dreaming about cherry fruit cakes and literal sugar tits ya feel me senpai?"

"alright, will you be going to karaoke

>>10295591
Looking back horror might not makes sense since they are unaware in the previous line. Maybe oblivion, threat or doom? (I'll thesaurus similar words)

Still need a reality check if anyone's lurking.

>>10284460
terribly boring. also, i'm not insulting you in particular, but anyone who unironically writes "autistic faggot" is the type of person who doesn't have much to say in the first place

>>10295871
Not him but you sound like an autistic faggot with nothing to say.

>>10295961
Imo the most talented can take something mundane and make it magical

>>10295973
Eh I didn't actually read what he wrote. It's just that anyone who unironically writes "anyone who unironically writes "autistic faggot" is the type of person who doesn't have much to say in the first place" is probably an autistic faggot that doesn't have much to say in the first place.

>>10296026
I didn't read anything anyone wrote either I just wanted to express my viewpoint because I'm shallow.

>>10280588
Very good!

>>10283794
Dear

>>10280588
I sense some worth in you, although this is overwritten.

Get out of this board before its too late:

http://www.cosmoetica.com/Contact-Submissions.htm

>>10294387
The YUNT in Brill YUNT Lee isn’t stressed that much, I think

>>10295591
You started last week, man, don’t worry about not knowing some words. What I did, long ago, while trying to escape public school, was read a big classic and just write down every word I didn’t know and it’s definition. As well an an example sentence it’d fit in. Good words stick, I think.

>>10296090
>cosmoetica
>not North Star Stories & Poems

U take the L for this one

>>10296200
Fuck *ITS! This is the legacy of public school, ok? And it’s 3 AM and I’m sick, man! I’m SICK!

>>10296200
This is a good sign, as I started doing just that in this thread last night. I also quick-doodle an image to accompany each sentance.

>>10284322
>>10284342
GIVE ME CRITIQUE YOU FUCKING LOW LIFE PIECE OF SHIT SCUMFUCKS. EVERYTIME I POST. E V E R Y S I N G L E TIME you ignore it, at the same time posting your shitty generic poetry that makes me wanna bash my skull into the the wall. you fuckers will never accomplish anything, you are unoriginal hackfucks sent from hell doomed to walk the earth writing meandering rip offs of better work. AND I WRITE SOMETHING COOL. SOMETHING NEW. AND YOU DON'T EVEN READ IT???? WHY? i want to drown you all in a lake while stepping on your heads back to back with iron nail boots

just something I dashed off a month or so ago

What is the substance of my thought
Before I sit and write it out?
Colored baubles, green and red,
Strung along a silver thread;
Each one glimmered, gleamed and glowed
Whether in word or image clothed.
Whether tangled in a skein
Or clipped and measured, neat and clean,

O, the things that I have seen
Starry scene on starry scene
Fast as fire they interchange
Marvelous landscapes, new and strange,
With animals fantastic teem.
But, however real they seem
All you see is but a dream.
But what is waking, what is sleep?
By now you've surely thought too deep.

>>10297393
Wow, great work anon.
>GIVE ME CRITIQUE YOU FUCKING LOW LIFE PIECE OF SHIT SCUMFUCKS. EVERYTIME I POST. E V E R Y S I N G L E TIME
maybe you forgot to turn caps lock off but this passage perfectly conveys the emotion of a butthurt retard.
>you ignore it, at the same time posting your shitty generic poetry that makes me wanna bash my skull into the THE wall.
I don't know where you channel this energy from, but this passage alone should win the national book award for its ability to accurately portray the psyche of a pretentious teenager. The new Dostoevsky!
>i want to drown you all in a lake while stepping on your heads back to back with iron nail boots.
I swear I read something similar by Joyce. It might just be the overall impression of erudite and abstruse prose, but you really have something going here. I'l drop the email of the penguin classics editor-in-chief below.
Again, I have to commend you for your great work. You're miles ahead of this board and maybe people are just too intimidated to critique this elegant prose.

>>10297657
thank you

Crumpled bag of Wendy's
contains a shameful deed.
And if these packets could speak,
they'd elect to only scream.
Soaked through with grease, or worse.
I had to hide it because it hurts.
But now it leans upon my desk,
like a student waiting it's reprimand,
while Wendy's one blotted out eye
it seams a tear has opened there.
And through the eye of Wendy
I can see though, beyond to
the dog I've long missed, my mom,
two boys I've never kissed.
And through Wendy's opened eye
that stuff flows, the bag breathes.
Wendy's face begins to crease.
With all of it coming out,
she appears to find relief.

>>10284322
>>10297393
>first word is "And"
>second word is a lowercase "i"
>never capitalizes so much as a single "I"
>missing punctuation marks
>confuses "was" and "were"
>focuses on ways to look (not so) clever while presenting an image rather than ways to cleverly present an image

The second post of yours I quoted is actually better than the first. Thanks for putting the "violent" back in "Violent Femmes," anon.

>>10297708
Not to defend him, but I am willing to bet "And I was looking for a friend of mine" is a Joy Division lyric.

>>10282375
>weebshit
Nah, man.

>>10297708
this is the way i write it's stylistically designed to be that way please crit other parts, i am serious i am TIRED of posting my shit and and never getting any real crit. please do better next time my friend.

>>10297393
I like the tude of your piece, some lines (gun gestures in my pocket), but it's very loose and hard to really talk concretely about. Seems a bit off the dome, unedited just whipped out like crazy man for us to chip in too much.

>>10297708
>>10297723
oh and here is a continuation :)

Reverberating across the expanded far reaching counters. Down on the square brick road i am naked and penetrated to a blank for the whole supermarket to see. Moisture hasn’t caressed my exhausted skin and wind damaged eye gorge with its silken and motherly touch for decennia. I shake hand with my tears and i sob and i let myself depart into wailing. Wait. A step. My muscles flex and my cries are relaxed. Mixed up into a cascade enemies got the drop on me. I see none i feel them all they have me in chains one hand against my neck pressing into the pointy frail bone feels like it will burst like a sewer pipe i pathetically try to fight by wiggling like an eel i get reeled by whoever holds the grips of the chain yell out crazed “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

They chant out with much amusement
“DOG DOG DOG MAN DOG MAN EAT EAT EAT DOG MAN CRAWL”
I am hit in the head with a club and i drift away in bad dreams and specifically designed enshrouding terror scenarios before i awake. The back of the supermarket, the marketing executive general with his 3 dastardly goons behind him. The office design displayed an appreciation for the aesthetics of german expressionism. The general’s medals shines golden, best place to shop, best market in town, best groceries in the nation. He leans forward stirring and striking, his pointed nose acting like a weapon of intimidation, he says
“My big guys caught you sneaking around like man with thievery or something even more unsavory in his plans, could you be a pyromaniac?” I say
“I am no thieving pyro, stop revering the sound of your own fife, i was looking for a friend of mine, and i found him, in a can” The general says
“That low life bug man was a friend of yours? He was here on your spot, accused, he spoke in a very annoying and whiny way so we pickled him and put his parts in the hominal isle”
I say
“He had a razed lung condition, his throat was like an exhaust pipe, it was not his fault that he spoke like a retard, curse of the birth, he was a very smart guy actually.”
The general draws his dispatch sword from his reptile skin scabbard.
“In the eyes before my goons and my security cameras, i hereby sentence you to death”
Golem he stands there his clownish but suave arms readying a one dike strike. Solemnly, for one moment he is still, this is the second. Where the moment upwards becomes still, and like a roller coaster, peaceful balance before the explosive bullet travel downwards into DEATH!

>>10297723
>it's not a mistake it's a stream of consciousness
every time

even if you're writing things wrong on purpose, the last line of greentext I gave you goes beyond that

>>10297734
ok you are right, i am sorry for my outburst i appreciate you giving me crit
>>10297725
you too :)

Someone rember to read and comment on my Wendy's thing.

>>10297596
Good rhymes, structure and sound. But the content is a little trite. Still nice to read and hear.

>>10294756
I know this is a joke but I don't get why you didn't just end on "Bugs... lay off the carrots". Better yet, just on "Bugs..." to show off the fact that you don't need the last half of the final line.

>>10297596
What >>10297767 said. I would say it gets progressively more stale. The first two lines are cool, then you get into this dream of a butterfly nonsense.

>>10297682
I like this

>>10297790
Ty!

Enjoy the poetic ramblings of a depressed former tranny

Butterflies when I see her

Butterflies want to be her

Butterflies want to be heard

Shed the skin of this weak worm

But whys it feel like she left me?

Fully dressed but so empty

She was standing tall but he's venti

Is this the truth or just venting?

Express yourself be free

I swore they were talking to me

Now Im Blonded, track 3

And there's scratches on my cd

And there's scratches on my thighs

And I'm scratching on my eye-line

The sight felt so divine

But now what's looking back isn't mine

There's a stranger in my house

There's a stranger in my blouse

Set the trap little mouse

Affection dry now Im doused

Going deeper for something so superficial

Boots made for walking but I feel so crippled

1 'like' = love, wish it could be so simple

Self destruct on camera while Im riding the missile

Its over now, just want to crawl into bed

Until Im feeling low and she rears her pretty head

Mascara running in the shower, could this be the end?

Mascara running to her grave, sleep well old friend

>>10297948
this just confirms my theory that trannies are all failed nu males that make themself into their own fetish girl, you get turned on by yourself. fucking sicko.

>>10297760
it's fun and consistently creative but suffers for being an obvious pisstake

>>10297948
I liked the allusions to dumb, vain blond girly girl crap in this.

>>10297971
It's just meant to be fun. The emotions isn't mockery at all, though it's not completely personal. But thank you, your comments excite me!

frozen bones
can't machine white blood cells
because nothing moves when frozen
except falling ice

so the spring teases the tip of winter
glans looking like Punxsutauney Phil
who hasnt had ass since 06
let alone a piece

the bloated guts washed ashore the marsh
look like a blind anatomist's nightmare
all strung up alone the bank
like corn rows sewn by Stevie Wonder

so decry the speculation of the gods
those bored listless tinkerers playing cat's cradle
with the sinews of fate, contracting with each pop
of quantum bubble wrap laid underneath the real

so bones frozen warm up in the sun
exuberant in their melting rigidity
putting a spell on the past, a blanket cliche
wrapped up in elegies for moments tucked away
in dusty crevices encircling the aperture of willpower
that's lost its functionality as of late,
awaiting a software update

i’m FotoFobic
thas why the shades
jus lifted em off the rack
an about
the jacket
it’s cuz i ride
cuz I can’t afford much gas
cuz the kid
is sick
he weren’t born right
cuz his momz a coked up cunt
cuz her dad did fuck ‘er
n’ so did I
which’s why I’m in this
rut
cuz my dick don’t work
when I’m fucked up
so the raincoat slipped right off
n’ rotten worm
foun rotten apple
ch’is why I’m in this
rut
ch’is why they
give me
hair gel free
n’ tell me
keep it real
cuz i’m the new damn Fonzie
n’ I guess I’m Cool
with that

>>10297393
lol look at this gaylord, you must be joking

Bumping and I'll crit tomorrow when I'm not dead tired.

Moondog, that crazy loon
he'd rather sing than bark at the moon
loves the cars and the waves and the vicious talk
loves the Rhine and the old gods that make us walk
his spear and his beard and his viking busby
hold the voice of the solemn Indian's plea
so when you hear those skin drums ring,
listen to that old loon sing:

https://pastebin.com/t9hP0NdU

i'm not very proud of this but someone please critique it. be brutally honest; i'm not very emotionally attached to it.

>>10300130
Old gods does not fit in here otherwise it's good

I engaged with the substratum of my nature, and there was a quaint fellow who approached me there. And I broached upon a little tête-à-tête with the fellow, and the fellow unto me he said:

‘Garghfusfusycillarfusciylargfusfusscyular’

Evidently, he spoke in tongue quite foreign to me. And so I spoke to see if my own tongue was intelligible. And so I said to he:

‘Why are you so uncouth fellow? Why are you dishevelled and greased?’

He beckoned me over, and his hand I did follow. When I was upon him, he ensconced my in his lumbering arm. And there he plucked out his eyes like olives, and placed them in front of me. And I wore his eyes. And I beheld what was his time. But I was still I, and he was still he. Dissolution was not entire. So, partial was my understanding, for my impartiality is as bias as me.

And great ancient terror swept across my eyes: I saw beastly creatures that resembled men, as dirty as my acquaintance. And they passed by quickly in the darkness, and hung stealthily in the trees, and clung artfully to the branches therein. And I saw black hands move swiftly. And I saw carcasses torn open, chewed fast and abandoned. I saw teeth bite into pulsating organs. I saw these creatures in the shallow banks of a water also, which traversed an unending dell. And I witnessed the sluicing of hands and the cleansing of faces, which were caked with mud, dirt and offal. And I said aghast, in involuntary horror: ‘The tumult of the primordial deep!’

And my friend reappeared, and my eyes were in my own eyes. And my friend, unto me he said:
'Remember there was beauty in my day. Even in my day there was beauty' he said. For I could understand his tongue now, having been alongside him for eternity.

And I was back among the trees, and the reverberating blackness, and the glinting eyes which gathered therein. And, behold, all was exposed in the expansion of day, which unfurled itself upon earth’s lumpy mattress. And the sun, the self-same sun that I knew (and I thought it absurd that I should see it there!) shone arbitrarily – punctual and as timely as ever it shone!

And it shone on all the human creatures, contorted atop the swarthy trunks of trees. And it shone on the waters which ran deep. And white glitter was upon the face of the water. And from it, some humans did drink. And amidst the leaves and limbs of bodies was fruits, red, glistening, and ripe for the pluck.

I uploaded this once. I hope it's much better now from a first person view.

>>10301776
>He an infamous reputation
>had*
The man in the cell only appeared at the end. I assume this is just one page of the chapter, but if not, maybe you should change it to "the escape" or something.
>Desert Blade
I'm getting some demon cycle ptsd right now.

Someone charitable enough to crit my spanish text.
https://pastebin.com/bG4gwqcZ

>>10301986
So... Was it good?
Oh and thanks for the critque!
(btw I was thinking of doing yours but you said Spanish. So, yeah.)

>>10302125
If it was, i'm sure you wouldn't be posting here. I would read more though, i haven't seen a first person perceptive with a female main character in this thread in a while and It could help me with other story.

>>10297790
It was a complicated metajoke where I make you see what the line really should have been without writing it I think I just wanted to call something fat

>>10301986
Critiquing for this anon >>10301776.
>Una hora transcurrida (...)
Awkward phrasing. The most orthodox way to put it would be something like "Una hora después de dejar el pueblo, el camino era ya irregular, casi difuminado sobre la planicie, ancha hasta donde alcanza la vista." Seems a bit too long, but it's alright since this is the opening sentence.
>El esfuerzo de cada pisada (...)
So you mean the pain is doubled with every step? Try to be more clear and concise. Also, if your character has been walking for an hour, his feet would hurt more than "ligeramente".
>El mayor indicador de que el viaje no sería placentero fue cuando mi compañera de viaje (...)
Really long sentence, trim it. What you say in a 33 word sentence. This correction, for example, is 20 words long.
"Aquel áspero camino logró lo imposible: callarle la boca a mi compañera. Ya ni quedaba rastro de su sonrisilla burlona."
Your phrasing is quite clumsy and your sentences are way too long. Try to fix that and you'll be gold.

>>10302428
Thank you senpai. I really appreciate it.

Any critique would be awesome. Be brutally honest.

Submission:

In a dimly lit apartment , a man lies. His thin and lanky frame enveloped by an egg shaped chair, thick corded cables lie wrapped on the floor like so many dead squids. Hes been consumed by the sprawl for who knows how long, an IV blasting vitamins and other nutrients straight into his bloodstream. His body jerks, and the chairs horizontal stripes switch from green to red. A siren goes off and a formal female voice echoes throughout the apartment " Error, full dive emergency ev-", before being cutoff by the sound of rumbling electricity. The egg shaped chair rocks forward, as if flicked by a large invisible hand. The man falls out the chair like a newborn lamb, his pitch black hair coated in sweat, eyes sky blue and vacant. The cold matte black laminate floor greeting his face like a scorned lover.
Consciousness returned to the man several hours later. He struggles to get up, his muscles weak and aching, his arms and legs floundering and unsteady. He stumbles his way through the tiny studio apartment, a neon blue line appearing above him, lighting his way. He approaches the bathroom door, 2 thin slabs of re-purposed steel.The metal door folds open and he stumbles through. The man takes a long hard look at himself in the mirror. "Fuck me" he silently mouths to himself. Dried blood lays caked by his nose, his chin and cheeks covered by thick black stubble. He wonders aloud to himself how long he had been plugged in. He quickly washes his face then taps the mirror, a stream of information starts appearing but only one catches his eye. It was the 18th of November 2043.

Death


After our casual goodbye kiss,
‘I will love you till death do us apart’- he said

It took me eleven phone calls and the entire night to realise,
It came too soon

>>10300207
please critique this

>>10300207
While the into about him playing in the sand wasn't bad, the rest is. I have no idea how old this child is, because he still makes sandcastles in his backyard, but is cognizant enough to think of killing his father with a hatchet.
You don't get into the head spaces of the characters very well, so I don't even really care that the father is murdering his wife.
Seung-Hui Cho / 10

>https://pastebin.com/1dE26873
This is mine

>>10296026
>on /lit/
>didn't read
why am i not surprised

The car starts. I must have turned the key. I must want to go home. All the stupid things at the strip mall have sucked up my mind. The world can only be so curious, and I can only give so much sympathy to passersby. I turn the radio on in the car. The Democrats have lost another election. Cold, fat drops of water leak from the broken seal of my door and land on my forearm at unexpected intervals. The seal is broken because I locked my keys in the car on accident three or four months ago. A Mexican man helped me break into it using a metal rod, two flat head screwdrivers and a towel. He was grinning ear to ear: happy to have the tools I needed when he spotted me stupidly jamming paperclips into the window, alone, in the great big parking lot, with rain coming down like today. I was glad to have him as my good luck.

I give the car too much gas, pulling onto a backed-up road and hitting the brakes. My orange soda and beer bottles go flying from the empty passenger's seat, making anxious thumps. Leaf bits, hair and lint stick to their wet surfaces, which I scrape off with annoyance, while driving. The clump of yesterday moves, awakened by stirrings of late. It is halfway between the indigestion of stomach and the flatulence of large intestine, some grumpy half-witted thing bothering me with its mammalian rantings.

The bass booms. I am alright. A white Nisan that may or may not be expensive pulls up to me blaring trap. I cannot tell if the driver is Indian or black, so I scoot in for a better scoop. Just then he taps the gas, and dances around with both his middle fingers up. I am offended and angry for half a second but then crack a smile.

>>10279204

nice poem

The San Fransisco Gardner Museum of Contemperary Art is the largest collections of its kind on the west coast. The museum is split into 4 floors, then split into an east and west wing. The most remarkable art can usually be found on the east wing of the first floor, the art is on a rotating schedule with new pieces introduced or reintroduced on a roughly three week schedule, or when the assistant curator of the Gardner is overwhelmed with the knowledge that she had chosen the wrong path in art school, or even one time when she broke a vase that her mother had forced on her before she had died.

The floor of the west wing of the first floor of the museum is laid with light oak. There is a noticable wear in a semicircular pattern where visitors over the years have entered the wing from the vestibule of the museum, turned as a pair of two or three or four, surveyed the open wing, walking back up the stairs to the rarified humidity of the dadaists on the third floor or muddy lettrists of the second. They are not wrong in holding a common belief that the deeper sections of museums and libraries will hold the deepest secrets. This is intuitive sense knowing that people are very protective of any sort of knowledge, and those who have dedicated their life to the research and curation of art and beauty would hide from the world that same beauty for selfish and unselfish reasons.

The lighting in this wing of the first floor is neither soft nor harsh. It is not the warmth of a library hugging students compressing inwards or the blinding white of a department store bathing shoppers in vulnerability. There are no windows.

The people from afar and anear and aclose and almost who walk up the valley semicircle of the first feet of the floor. They ship-shuffle track the depression further into the room like explorers, or kids tracking mud into the house after a rainy game. Or adults who tell the kids to come in from the rainy game and decide to not wipe their feet.

>>10303678
I really liked this.

>>10303678
nice

>>10302365
>I would read more though
I've come back with more if you're still interested.

Link to even more:
https://pastebin.com/xwGTFVNM

Seeing the different ways her body squirmed upon being poked and pronged with the stick was deeply intriguing for me. Her ghostly appearance and cold eyes whisked me into one of those dark places of the mind, the sort of place where one sees it acceptable to fantasize about morbid act of an amorous nature.

I had it in my mind, and let the ideas develop perhaps because of my current semblance with her appearance to insert the stick inside of her. My first oberservation was how little resistance there was upon penetration, followed by the fleshy sound emitted to which I anticipated giddily. Satisfactory feelings indeed.

I worried someone would walk in on us so. Locking the aging door I then turned to see her lying there with the large spruces arm still inside, with the hoary light pouring onto her from the dusty window. For me, it was surreal and I still don't understand what came over me from the dark recesses of my mind; I first must make it clear, this for me or at least up until now- was strictly a exercise of my queer curiosities for anatomy, there was no venereal motive.

>>10305594
Regardless of how I think of it now , it doesn't change the regretful actions that followed soot.
I gently pulled up her snow white dress, remarkably still in prepped fashion from her funeral. I tried to gracefully remove her undergarments aside, however they seemed now to tight. The state of decay on her bottom half already begun, which caused swelling to a minor degree, the smell was likely not bearable for common folk but alas, I was not what one could consider "NORMIE REEE!" (Top kek I added this just to fuck with your emersion)

Frustrated, I decided to do the deed with her bloomers still on. I yanked the musky panties aside, naturally I was already fully aroused so penetration was simply a matter of undressing myself. Entering inside of her lifeless body I felt a cold shiver crawl through my spine, regret soon followed. Penetration was not as easy as I expected, when I begin to use more pressure I caused a pocket of gas to erupt from both her bottom orifices. I paused to catch my breath then continued on, thrusting myself with much friction, occasional exhaust of heavy smelling gas exited her, eventually the room reeked of the odor. I next grabbed her head and did unspeakable things of a grizzly nature when I got too carried away, " Damn it all!" I had cut myself lightly on one of her canines. I poured some cold-well water over it and for a moment I considered retiring for the night, regretfully I objected. No longer concerned with my cut I had the idea to try myself at her derrière area, from here I am with much shame, so I will not go into detail, but it did bring me to a satisfactory climax, which was almost ruined by my assistant who was delivering a cage to our office. I had heard the front doors iconic creek just as I was finishing, "Just One Moment!!"
I yelled in desperation, exiting her taboo hole with my fluid seeping out behind. My pants were up as quick as my assistant swung the old door open entering our office where he then laid the cage down and upon viewing the corpse I made sure to rearrange orderly, said "You know doc, people who dress their dog up for a funeral make me sick" Satisfied with his lack of conjecture, I retorted "Yeah I know what you mean"
I knew I had dodged a bullet that day, never again will I perform such acts with canines. Felines are sufficient as their size makes it possible to sneak in my apartment in providence.

Hope you liked my story lads, critics please I only started writing 10 days ago. There's gonna be issues !

>>10295591
>>10279204
Is me btw
Also if anyone couldrecommend any good books for learning to write. Not so much plot structure but sentence structure good prose all that sort of thing. Thanks

>>10295591
>>10305670 WTF
I didn't quote OP I meant to quote the >>10305605

Anyways Quad post Bump I guess sorry mods

Rate my new book title:
"Internet Shills and the Retards Who Believe Them"

>>10305701
That sounds great, where can I buy it?

>>10303678
>My roommates had all gone home for the holidays, and as long as they aren’t here I don’t even resent them for leaving a mess. The upstairs only had mine and Adam’s rooms and bathroom. I had already cleaned the bathroom this week and knew I wanted to save my room for last, so I start in the living room downstairs by vacuuming up the years’ worth of cocaine and ashes ground into the carpet, the product of Osama’s art gallery internship. Cleaning is good for the soul, and I feel my self-worth increasing in fifty dollar increments just like the contents of the vacuum bag.
The change to present tense at "start" feels weird. If you made it past tense, it would have still be clear that the bathroom being cleaned was something that had happened even further in the past as opposed to within the part of the past you're narrating, since they would at least still be in different types of past tense.

>the bicycle that I never road
The past tense of ride is rode, not road.

>>10304376
The "I held up my staff" was a little jarring because I read "I" and expected something like "said" but instead got "held" as though you were holding up the quotation. Might just be me though. I had a similar issue with "A hooded man in rags sat waving," but I the capital "A" tipped me off at least.

>there was no telling if a prisoner got loose when the warden wasn't looking
this is like saying "when the warden wasn't looking, there was no telling if a prisoner got loose," which isn't what I think you intend to say. I think you at least need to change "got" to "had gotten" and "wasn't looking" to "hadn't been looking".

At the start you seemed really hesitant to put gesture before quotations rather than after for some reason. I kept having my camera flip to the other person with them already talking, instead of flipping to them preemptively and showing me some of their reaction to what they'd heard.

>A moment paused
Is that something moments do?

>I let out a reluctant breath as I folded my staff into a baton
Why "breath as" and not "breath, then"? I'm more inclined to see the latter, but maybe you're doing it differently on purpose.

>bon fire
bonfire is one word

>closing-in
no hyphen, could use a comma after "in". The whole sentence could stand to be broken up with commas at least.

>Rulers, really,
you don't need the first comma

>men of promise and revolution of a greater good
At first this reads like "men of {stuff and revolution}", but once I get to the second "of" I realized I'm supposed to read it as "{men of stuff} and {revolution of whatnot}", which is a jarring rewind.

>>10305605

that's not what strong and weak verb mean at all

>>10305983
>>10304376 here
Thanks for the critque.
Was it at least fun? How would you rank it right now?

Oh staunchéd rod of old,
Why art thou now so limp and cold?
Has desire fled from thee?
Or art thou anxious to be free

Old-Cold
Free-Thee

So- Quenched?
Again-When?


You changed the texture of the sentences drastically. That's not criticism necessarily, but the transition could be more clever. It's a bit of a belly flop into the what could be smooth swan dive for me to clap at.

>>10297682
This is just masturbation. But it flowed okay.

>>10306680
Like it's celebrating my own struggles? The content in that poem isn't personal, I just made it up. So thank you.

>>10306686
Well the content you're expounding on is self shame. I didn't learn anything greater about the subject. Nothing was produced, so it just felt like poetry for the sake of poetry. pleasure without pregnancy and birth. Birth of knowledge.

>>10306723
I get what you mean, and it was meant as just poetry for the sake of poetry. It was a fun exercise for creative expression. Wasn't hoping to change hearts and minds lol. But the emotions are something you should be able to empathize with, even if you don't approve or accept them yourself.
But thanks for reading it.

>>10306495
>rank
I don't think I would do that.

>fun
I guess, yeah. It was encouraging enough.

>>10306847
Thanks mate for the honesty.

>>10306869
Bear in mind that when I say I wouldn't rate it, I only mean is that it strikes me as a silly thing to do in general.

>>10306878
>I only mean is that it strikes me as a silly thing to do in general.
yikes, remove that is from my post. The actual criticism has a get that should have been a got as well

>>10291682
Opening line is bad but the rest is surprisingly decent

If you were to hunger
Ravenously at these words
And taste them
You will lap the umami
Of blood and vowels;
It is the fluid to a human mind
To your mind,
My small mind,
And all else in this phantom
Of a green world.
These letters are black and blue
As every man on Earth;
All our craft, too.

>>10306943
>umami
Strikes me as a bit pretentious
But the rest is pretty decent, conjures some interesting images

R8 me bois
"You want her. You desire her so bad your cheeks and your whole face are burning. Probably no one has noticed it, but to you it feels like there’s an enormous red light mounted inside your head. You stumble through the hallway, dodging the small groups that flock around, chattering incessantly. It’s hard, though: summer vacation starts in a week and a kind of madness has engulfed everybody, like slaves being freed. Until September, that is, but nobody seems to really care for now.
The girls by her side are called Angela and Karen, and it seems to you that they haven’t left her alone since school started. Right now they’re talking about some band: you can overhear them while opening your locker. She loves them; the other two girls think they’re overrated.
---They’re over-fucking-rated, I’m telling you ---Karen says---. They sold out, their sound went from art rock to… I don’t know, crap rock. Fuck them.
—I think they’re still pretty good ---She says. You notice she dyed her hair a shade of brown lighter.
---Karen’s right –says Angela. Her blonde hair’s tied in a ponytail, and it looks like a pack of straw-, since they released Raincloud they’ve been just another pop band.
---Whatever, girls –She says, rolling her eyes. You think: “that’s so fucking sexy”. You finish getting your books out and close the locker as the bell rings. She sees you---. Hey, Charlie!
You smile (“do I have something between my teeth? I think I do, fuck fuck FUCK”) and walks towards her.
---Hi, Lucy –you say in your manliest voice. Her name rolls like chocolate as it flows out your lips-. Karen, Angela, what’s up?
---Not much, Charles –says Karen. She’s skinny and flat, but she has a little cute nose.
---You’re gonna help me study for the Physics exam today, right? I really need some help –Lucy says, smiling. You notice a small gap in her front teeth and that just makes her even more precious to you.
---Of course, yeah. Yeah. It’s fine if I wait for you after class and we walk to my house?
---That’d be perfect, Charlie. Wait for me at the entrance and I’ll find you.
---P-perfect (“fucking stutter”).
You lose yourself for a second in her smile, in the little holes in her cheeks, in the lonely freckle by her nose, in her hazelnut eyes."

Cont.

>>10307054
"The hallway is getting empty as people enter their classes. At the far end you see the jocks heading towards the football field: the last practice of the semester. Angela’s looking at both of you with a “it’s getting really late” face. And then you realize you haven’t said anything in ten seconds. Lucy’s looking at you with a half-amused, half-concerned expression.
---Uhm, well –you say, trying to salvage the situation-, see you at three, then.
---Yeah, see ya.
---Bye, girls! –you tell her friends. You can’t be disrespectful. They say goodbye too, but you scarcely hear them as you run. You’re late for Algebra, and you don’t want to give Mr. Lizcano even more reasons to hate you.
You arrive at the classroom grasping for breath, and you thank the saints and angels that that Spanish asshole hasn’t arrived yet. Andrew has saved you a seat at the back of the room. You dodge a couple of paper planes and sit heavily in your desk. You turn around to face Andy.
-Hi, man –you greet him, bumping his fist.
-Hey –he answers, bumping back. He frowns and looks at you, somewhat annoyed-. So, what took you so long? Some savage, primitive, African booty?
-Fuck you –you give him the finger as he laughs-. Have some respect for Lucy, man. You can’t just go around saying that kind of stuff. People have been killed for less.
-I’m just fucking with you, Charlie –he says, still laughing.
-Please don’t fuck with me, that’s the last thing I want.
-That’s pretty gay.
-Precisely.
-Anyway –he says-, you were with her, right? What happened?
-She’s coming over to my house to study.
Andrew makes two big quotation marks in the air.
- “Study”.
-You know what I’m planning. We actually study Physics, she’s ready for the exam, I give her some of my homemade chcolate chip cookies so she sees I’m husband material…
-Jesus Christ.
-…I invite her to watch a movie upstairs using my trademark wit and humor…
-Trademark. Nice.
-…and, mid-movie, I tell her what I feel.
-And what do you feel?
-I’m not telling you that, man. It’s pretty deep.
-Uh-huh. And what if she rejects you?
-We… uhm, finish watching the movie? –you don’t actually have a backup plan. You’re going all or nothing.
-Awkward –Andy combs his black hair back. He could be the lead singer of rock band, or a supermodel. You’d wish to have those looks.
“Stop it man, you’re good. You’re fine.”
-Whatever happens, I wish you luck, my man –Andrew says.
-Thanks, man. I’m gonna be alright."

Cont.

>>10307058
"Mr. Lizcano enters the classroom, towering over everybody, says “Good afternoon” in his thunderous voice, and immediately starts writing on the whiteboard. You try to pay attention (this is gonna be on next week’s text), but your thoughts are in another world.
They’re with Lucy, the girl with brown skin and hazelnut eyes, with curly brown hair and thin fingers, with a small gap in her teeth and a freckle by her nose.
The girl who likes to read old fantasy paperbacks and draw alone in the library. The girl who bites her pencil as she thinks how to answer on a test. The girl who is undyingly loyal to her friends. The girl who listens to art rock and tries to see the good in everything.
“Holy shit” you think, snapping out of the daydream, “I’m in love.”
And you think, “hey, if my feelings are true, if my heart is open to her, maybe she’ll understand. It’s gonna be alright. You’re gonna be alright, man.”
“You’re Charlie fuckin’ Hoffman, and Lucy Turner is gonna fall for you today.” "

End

"Do you believe in god?"
The question caught Nick out and he hadn't time to think of how he wanted to answer.
"No." He answered trying desperately to mask his shame with a docile tone.
"Well, have you heard the story of Saul?" asked Asher unphased.
"No, I'm not familiar."
Asher's grey eyes lighted up and he began to recite the story to Nick.
Nick had admired the good nature of Asher for a number of months now and as of recently, had grown friendly with him. Asher was innocent to an extent sometimes difficult to believe of any college aged young man, and had a childlike personality at times, but there was no doubting that he was a truly good person with an unwavering belief in God.
While Nick tragically considered himself an atheist, he just about revered Christians.

"so Samuel tells Saul that he has been disobedient and that Jehovah will choose another King of Israel" Asher continued.
While Nick didn't have much interest in biblical literature, he enjoyed talking with Asher. In fact, the two had grown to be quite close friends in the few weeks since Nick had first struck up a conversation with him.

The late afternoon sky began to tint orange as Asher finished telling the story of Saul--Nick had grown quite interested toward the end when he died. The two shook hands and said goodbye.

"Do you believe in god?"
The question caught Nick out and he hadn't time to think of how he wanted to answer.
"No." He replied, trying desperately to mask his shame with a docile tone.
"Well, have you heard the story of Saul?" asked Asher unphased.
"No, I'm not familiar."
Asher's grey eyes lighted up and he began to recite the story to Nick.
Nick had admired the good nature of Asher for a number of months now and as of recently, had grown friendly with him. Asher was innocent to an extent sometimes difficult to believe of any college aged young man, and had a childlike personality at times, but there was no doubting that he was a truly good person with an unwavering belief in God.
While Nick tragically considered himself an atheist, he just about revered Christians.
"so Samuel tells Saul that he has been disobedient and that Jehovah will choose another King of Israel" Asher continued.
Nick had resumed listening. While Nick didn't have much interest in biblical literature, he enjoyed talking with Asher. In fact, the two had grown to be quite close friends in the few weeks since Nick had first struck up a conversation with him.

The late afternoon sky began to tint orange as Asher finished telling the story of Saul--Nick had grown quite interested toward the end when he died. The two shook hands and said goodbye.

A Life’s History upon the sea; the Adventures of a Man

Sea--llthatismyleafternedlest--
Inowceanewestanding. Now--onder
Overightorwrunginthemouthere;
Ishameleftanoteffortlesslyonday-sea.
Endend. . . nowthing.

Between finishing the first draft of a novel and editing the shit out of it so it can be submitted to an agent, is taking a short break to plan out another novel a bad idea?

"Do you believe in god?"
The question caught Nick out and he hadn't time to think of how he wanted to answer.
"No." He replied, trying desperately to mask his shame with a docile tone.
"Well, have you heard the story of Saul?" asked Asher unphased.
"No, I'm not familiar."
Asher's grey eyes lighted up and he began to recite the story to Nick.
Nick had admired the good nature of Asher for a number of months now and as of recently, had grown friendly with him. Asher was innocent to an extent sometimes difficult to believe of any college aged young man, and had a childlike personality at times, but there was no doubting that he was a truly good person with an unwavering belief in God.
While Nick tragically considered himself an atheist, he just about revered Christians.
"so Samuel tells Saul that he has been disobedient and that Jehovah will choose another King of Israel" Asher continued.
Nick had resumed listening. While Nick didn't have much interest in biblical literature, he enjoyed talking with Asher. In fact, the two had begun spending much of their time together in the few weeks since Nick had first struck up a conversation with him.

The late afternoon sky began to tint orange as Asher finished telling the story of Saul--Nick had grown quite interested toward the end when he died. The two shook hands and said goodbye.

>>10307079
>asher

It's a bit edgy of a name for me. Almost like it does not fit. Opportunity to name him something that represents something insightful about the story.

>he just about revered Christians.
consider revising that sentence.

>While Nick didn't have much interest in biblical literature, he enjoyed talking with Asher.

Golden opportunity here bud, I would like to see hints or something to play with that would lightly hint at a explanation (preferably multiple) of why nick enjoys talking to the lad.

I would love to see you play with the theme of nihilist enjoying the company of the unconscious compatriot, almost like it reminds him of what he lost.

I would consider a general revision with greater and more telling/profound adjectives. But I think you have a really cool theme bud.

>>10298515
Really really good. I love the theme, it's fantastic, but I have to say you should consider revising your pacing.

Some corrections especially in the beginning would be easy, Im not exactly sure how you would manage that toward the end.

I'm not a fan of Cuz though, it's in the texting abbreviation family and does not convey the country twang I think you're going for.

C'ause? maybe. It's not great either. It's hard thing to convey. But you can start with knowing what does not work

But definitely would say consider revisions from

>ch’is why they
give me
hair gel free
n’ tell me
keep it real
cuz i’m the new damn Fonzie
n’ I guess I’m Cool
>with that

Started strong, Hit really hard in the middle, but it would be fantastic to see this end with something memorable.

>>10300130
If he would rather sing than bark at the moon why is he called moon dog?

If that's intentional irony it might be conveyed better.

>vicious talk

I wouldn't be attached to to that line, I think you meanviking puffery, but I think you could convey it more cleverly and obviously

also it gives you a opportunity to get rid of

>old gods that make us walk

It just does not naturally follow that an old God would be related to walking. Dancing perhaps but walking seems to be just granted in all creatures. Just needs more grease to get the flow of the poem right but gj

>>10306943
If you're not a writer or love words you won't get this poem is my biggest criticism.

>>10307090
You think my eyes just naturally see the beginning and end of words without spaces? Chore to read.

>>10307151
It's supposed to be what you get out of the letters you see there. Perhaps your eyes already pieced together a narrative unconsciously on the first read

>>10307159
okay that's really really fucking interesting now that you say that. Did you come up with that? I've never seen that before.

>>10307163
I did. I published a chapbook of it but I've only handed it out to close friends and members of my literary circle. I feel like it's a bit too experimental for house publishing

>>10307054
>>10307058
>>10307064
Firstly, let's get the you problem out of the way. I know most people enjoy this but I hate being told how I would feel. I would never think or behave this way. If I did I would cease being me. Most people are cool with that, so in terms of marketability I think you're absolutely fine. But you have one reader that objects.

That aside I think you need to consider heavy revisions of in the nature of your dialogue. You're introspection was nice, I found the character pathetic but it made me feel.

But I think this plays like a shitty 90s movie about highschool.

>you dodge a couple of paper planes and sit heavily in your desk.

No one threw paper planes in high school, only in shitty 90s movies. Everyone was a stoner and people were slightly more mature.

"Mr. Lizcano enters the classroom, towering over everybody, says “Good afternoon” in his thunderous voice"

Students entered the teachers room, very rarely the other way around. It's just dangerous to have youths unsupervised.

Again something that would only happen in a 90s movie.

I found your dialogue too cold, it was like reading the transcript from a court case, you need to convey more character.

>>10307171
That's insanely creative. It's actually pretty interesting, like a word search with certain words sticking out at you. Everyone leaves with depending on their mood with a slightly different story.

>>10307195
>>10307054
Forgot pic that accompany first paragraph

>>10307200
I'm glad you like it. Only reason I write is to get that sort of compliment from other writers and hopefully influence someone.

I had a rough Thanksgiving, thanks for the (you)s

>>10304178
Out of curiosity, where is this going?

>>10307090
>>10307159
I like the idea but I'm not getting a lot

>sea -- all that is my leaf-after needle lest
>I now clean west standing now -- (y)onder
>Over right or wrung in the mouth there
>Ishamel left a note effortlessly yonday -sea
>(in a five year old's voice): Endend... nowthing

I'm trying to go through it faster and read it more like a poem in hopes that some kind of rhyme scheme will make a more coherent message, but I'm not having much success

>>10307269
I think that you're putting too much thought into it.

Let the words come without your thinking first. Also, I wrote it with dialect in mind. "Nowthing" == "Nothing" If you'd like. Or "No thing"--each unique.

>>10307195
>Your introspection was nice, I found the character pathetic but it made me feel.
Well he's supposed to be pathetic so there's a point
>Students entered the teachers room, very rarely the other way around. It's just dangerous to have youths unsupervised.
In my country it's like that, I didn't know in the USA it was the other way around. I'm gonna need to read mote about it
>I found your dialogue too cold, it was like reading the transcript from a court case, you need to convey more character.
Any suggestions for that? A couple of people have said the same about the dialogue.
Also the story isn't about the school at all. It later switches POV (and switches to first person) and introduces another guy and then it switches to the girl, Lucy. The three end up having a poly relationship and try to hide it.

Thanks a lot for the criticism, man!

Leaflet, were a tree
Now just garbage, sucking on dirt
Brown and ground and rip rocks
Right out. Leaflet, were from God,
A tree herself, but a tree,
Not a leaf, nor leaflet, a grand Oak
Twisting all curls like Goldilocks
Not too big, not too brown, just Right
That’s God, and he grows you
Grows a leaf until you green bright
And shine in the sun for a minute
Feel the sun on your green chlorophyll
Skin
You’re God, Your God,
Little things growing on you
Til you shed like the leaves of fall
Til God grows you brown and ground
Til dirt do you part
God, you are in the sun for a minute
And twisting in the wind you fall
God lets you fall
Because we all fall and
We all fall

here's an autumnal poem

i wish i were half as good as some of you ugh

>>10293823
>>10282246
>>10282067

Deutsch ist für mich keine Muttersprache (ich bin nicht einmal gut darauf) aber es hat mir gefallen.

Ich mag wie du die Sätze unterbrechen; es stellt mir der Verwirrung eines weckenden Verstands vor. Ich mag auch wie du die Aufmerksamkeit auf der Zeit lenkst und dass du zwischen die Gegenwart und die Vergangenheit kontinuierlich wechselst.
Es gefiel mir besonders:
>er grinste wie ein Schwertfisch
Fuer mich war das ein schöner scharfer bildlicher Ausdruck

Tut mir leid, dass ich nicht mehr helfen könnte.

Do you ever think about the boundaries of your own body and wonder,
Where does it* end

I am soft and angry and weak and enduring --
Explosions like dulled tapping in my skull and I'm
ListeningListeningListeningListeningListeningListeningListeningListeningListen

*?


Rank: obscenity obedient obsidian
Obsolete in my march, I stared into the core of the earth
and it* stared back. No meekness.

Invalid. inValid. In valid;
Guaranteed existence is a problem when you can't
Figure it* out


But I stayed remained hitched camp started fire
And by the time the light wanes, I'm
LISTENINGLISTENINGLISTENINGLISTENINGLISTENINGLISTENINGLISTENINGLISTENINGLISTEN

*!

>>10304178
I like. I'm with the other guy, wondering where its gonna go.
"afar and anear and aclose and almost" is a nice set of sounds
>>10300518
disorienting, but in a good way which is what you were going for I bet

My shitty shit:

Caroline was in a daze. What was going on? What had happened? She drifted in and out, time stretching and contracting before her very eyes. She snapped out, in front of her the unbroken, blue sky. Around her birds talked and cars moved. Motion all around and including her. To be still was impossible. Sedentary on a bench, yet still propelled by Earth's rotation and revolution. She wondered if she moves fastest when she is most unaware. She was shaken from her secondary fuzz by her pocket, specifically her phone. 1:45 it read. She thought for a moment whether it was AM or PM before looking up and realizing the obvious. She always checked the time before the notification. It was a message from Suzi. "come over, my aunt is here. youd like her, she is culture" it read. Caroline wondered for a moment as to whether Suzi meant cultured, or that her aunt truly embodied the concept.

If I could just leave my body for the night. Raoul thought to himself, as he loaded up the neural connector. The chip clicked into the acceptor port on the back of his skull, and nothing happened. He sat there, accepting the chip was a bunk. Well there goes my fucking night, scammed again. He laid his head back on the arm of his couch, dejected, and absentmindedly read the sideways titles of the books on his bookshelf. Slowly as his eyes went from book to book, he realized the bookcase was starting to slide across his field of vision. In a span of a few seconds his bookcase had stretched into a segmented snake of identical bookcases trailing off into infinity in both directions. He felt the couch cushions fall out from underneath him, as he started to sink into complete blackness. The feeling of falling was slight, looking up he could see his living room getting smaller and smaller, a window in the utter darkness that surrounded him. His descent accelerated quickly, and soon the room was just a small pinpoint of light, surrounded by emptiness.

He closed his eyes to relieve the nauseating vertigo, and suddenly the feeling of falling vanished. With his eyes closed, a wave of smells and sounds assaulted his senses. Loud tropical birds were screeching all around him, the smell of a fresh cut mango filled his nostrils. He could feel the sun beating down on his skin, and the distinct scent of dimethyl sulfide wafting off the ocean. Opening his eyes, he saw the blackness had been replaced by the vastness of space. A stunning astronomical display of thousands of galaxies shimmered in every direction, each one a droplet with it’s own sun and orbiting progeny. Focusing on a random pinpoint, Raoul felt the rush of motion as his consciousness traversed through space at an unimaginable speed. Soon he was orbiting around a glowing crimson sun, the entirety of the massive combusting sphere stretched out in every direction.

>>10307854

Coming to rest on the surface, the glare of the sun was somehow manageable. There was no heat, and he watched as the pools of hydrogen and helium collided, time slowed as the rays of energy formed and surge towards him. Focusing in on the ray, he could see each individual neutrino, which grew to the size of softball sized bubbles. The space around him was filled with these transparent bubbles wafting slowly away from the sun towards the space beyond. The ruby light of the sun glistened off the side of each bubble, while the other side reflected the light-pocked obsidian expanse of space. The entirety of each bubble occasionally flickered in and out of existence as they bumped into each other, reminding him of the flickering light bulbs in his dingy apartment hallway.

Reaching out to touch a bubble, Raoul noticed he had left his body completely, regardless, the bubble of subatomic energy that had captured his attention popped, releasing a spray of water in every direction. The wave doused him and then the sun, extinguishing the dazzling light into an azure blackness. The bubbles surrounding him changed color and texture, taking on the blue and white hue of the ocean. Looking up he could see another source of light rippling through the water above his head. The bubbles around him started to rise upwards, and he felt the harsh throb of his empty lungs. Following the trail of bubbles and dim light, he rushed towards the surface, breaking the waterline and breathing in a huge gasp of air. As he blinked his eyes trying to clear his vision, the soft lines of his apartment fell into focus, and he was suddenly sitting back on his couch. The faintest glow of dawn through a thick layer of smog shone through his window. With a big grin across his face, he grabbed a beer from across the table, cracked it, feeling ready to seize the day.

I have this sort of obnoxiously well-read friend who complained that her bum wasn't "something a 19th century romantic would wax lyrical about", so I wrote a Byronic sonnet about it

Thine eyes' bronzéd vigor, thy pallid front,
The keenness of thy mind - every thought slung,
And all of the cleverness of thy tongue,
Pale in comparison - let me be blunt.

To one aspect - deservéd of all vaunt:
My sight is lidless upon its bearing,
A shattered dam within me: preparing
run my fingers down away toward their hunt.

Returning they bear their viscous quarry,
Slathered all in hard-won gore, to where sparse
are their missions and their crooked glory.

Turn about now, and let us end the farce,
To where began my worshipful story,
That peerless jewel could only be thine arse.

It got big laffs at open mic night. What do you guys think

>>10307953
>rhyming front with blunt
>rhyming vaunt with hunt
>rhyming quarry with glory
Anon please
I think it's a pretty accurate parody of Byron otherwise

>>10304178
Good job setting the scene. Enjoyed the bit about the temperamental curator. If you tried switching the 2nd and 3rd paragraph, I think it might flow better. Using the visual descriptor of the library lighting cements the place as real, and gives the bit about hidden knowledge more impact IMO.


Fourth paragraph is a little shaky, "Afar and annear and aclose..." doesn't really make sense. I was spending more time trying to figure out that sentence than appreciate the next two lines, which are pretty good descriptive metaphors regarding the wear of the floor.

A story I've been working on in it's infant stage.
https://pastebin.com/GeqekNKD

Acid green, the grove.
A Saint curled in the center surrounded by grass walls
cloven in the shape of upside-down V’s; brightened
by everything. Spotlight and Saint made glow.

Plastic plants and wax fruit;
neon gobos blaze over gnomic tears.
Leaves and moss cover the Saint, who
is not Augustine.

Tear—a neon-green ball—rolls
billiard-like, breaks, the sacred body does too.
Sticks grow out from under the Saint’s sleeves.
It must be done again, lights go out, green

>>10307953
You really end it well here. The rest of it isn't as interesting or funny, but it sounds alright imo

Aphorism: If you're laughing, you've won

https://pastebin.com/Gj0YwmjB
https://pastebin.com/X0ksY8kC

Some short stuff I pumped out recently

>>10307346
For the dialogue that's a tough one, but you have to put yourself as God in the situation. I know I was being hyper critical but the editors are worse.

I think you have to get to know your characters soul, and prefacing or postfacing a bit of dialogue with some some telling adjectives helps me understand more about the character and where those sentiments arise from. Something for me to dig my teeth into, a complex or lack of complex should be evident in the dialogue if I search hard enough.

Essentially what I as a singular reader would like to see is a why. That's the point of reading and writing, to deconstruct, you don't have to be obvious or forthwith but something for the reader to digest would be nice. I read the words, but I found that I didn't know that much more the characters. If I was a director I would be able to cast many people in the roles, I guess writing that's well done makes the directors job much harder.

But really knowing them as you know yourself helps, not bad though good luck with finishing it or editing it

>>10308674
If you want me to criticize that I will lol

Laughter is the subconscious being made conscious through a pleasant medium. I would not consider it winning.

>>10308674
Why would you post that? Why would you even think that?

>>10304376
>I've come back with more if you're still interested.
The second sample was good, it flowed smoothly with the first sample. Aside from certain grammar that errors another anon already pointed out, it was enjoyable.
I can't say the same for the rest of the pastebin text. Somehow, you made the mysterious old man very wordy, loosing it's initial charm. Maybe my first impression was misguided.
Even with the "whoring" part, the main character may well be male. I wouldn't know if she is a dyke with one chapter alone, but you could use more inner monologue to make her feel feminine. Unless the story is not about her but rather than Lee Edwards, then it's fine.

https://pastebin.com/9huCCYC5
Decided to try my hand at writing, would love to hear your thoughts and criticisms :)

The two paragraphs also aren't related to one another, I just wrote down some random stuff that came to my head; it doesn't really follow a storyline or anything

This is the ending to a goofy science fiction story about space pilots. I like writing romance.
https://pastebin.com/AnDcB1C3

>>10309426
Don't be discouraged. The sentences in the first paragraph need to broken out into more sentences, instead of a couple long sentences with too many clauses. The detail is also boring, what you describe is not interestingly conveyed and it's also overdone.

>>10309447
I do feel that I stretch out sentences longer than they should be, but I didn't think my descriptions were overdone. Anyways, thanks for sharing your thoughts, I'll definitely take them into consideration while (re)writing

>>10307422
Vielen Dank für dein Feedback und schön, dass du es mochtest. Seit wann und wie lernst du Deutsch?

>>10309458
I felt that they were overdone because, once you got through it all to the end of your sentence, the reddish-brown tinge, the spherical shape, the ambiguity amounted to a description of a sphere looking around that had no emotional connotation. Is it Angelic, in the classical, bizzaro shape way? Is it threatening, mysterious, awe-inspiring? Looks up, see red ball, as it moves? Alright, is all I'd have to say to that.

>>10309433
>goofy
To put it mildly. It's one of the most amateurish post I have read in a Crit thread. It has some sort of Valerian vibe.

More spanish text:
https://pastebin.com/4fR4gehb

>>10309458
Just think about reasons why you'd want a long or short sentence. Read your work out loud and watch how much breath you have while reading.

>>10309344
Thanks for the critque, friend.
I can send some of the first chapter if you'd like.

And yes, the story is really about Lee.

Raindrops patter onto water. He stands transfixed, unaware of the slow saturation of his clothes. Three magpie siblings huddle, invisibly, on a nearby treetop as alien climate unfolds around them. They call out for maternal comfort, assurance of safety, as fractured reflection falls through the surrounding still air. He inhales, a thousand scents announce the presence of a world dappled by light spread below. A company of ants traverse a puddle rocked to and fro, gripping to a ship granted by the bounteous decay of an ancient nearby oak. A small stream meanders once more, etching, serpentine through the crevices of a rocky outcrop. The tick of a clock. He presses his cigarette into an ashtray. His boots sound against concrete.

It was his father’s funeral that brought him to town. He was choking down gin in the kitchen. He shuddered after both shots – a thing he did. After any shot he shuddered. His mother stood nearby, coat on, ready to get out the door. Today in 20 minutes was the viewing. They were probably late. Being tardy seems pardonable, he figured.
“You like gin now?” his mother asked.
“Not really.”
They hopped in his Altima.
“Can I smoke in here?” his mother asked.
“No.”
They sat in silence on the way to the funeral home. David-Williams-Wampner or something like that. They all sound like macabre law firms, he figured. Or would maudlin be a better term?
He hadn’t been to his hometown in ages. He was anxious to see all the people he never thought of anymore. That seems silly. But he knew he would have to explain what he had been up to. His father’s dead body didn’t need much explaining… He was just sort of dead.
There was also the social decorum of a viewing to which he had never had to adhere… Do I walk around? Do I stand over the casket? Do I sit? His mother fidgeted in the passenger seat.
“I wonder if the Lewises will be there,” he said, aloud.
“Oh I’m sure.”
“Didn’t Aaron almost die in heart surgery or something?”
“Oh God yeah that was terrible.”
“If only he had died.”
She made that sound of disbelief people make with their throat. Like an “Uh!” but with breath pushed out.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe not really, but he did pour dry cement down my throat, and throw diving sticks at me, and introduce me to porn when I was seven.”
“He was your best friend.”
“A shit person nonetheless.”
Fuck me, he thought. Here I am wishing death on someone else instead of my father. That’s not cool.
“- Rob” his mother said, forcefully. She had been talking.
“What?” he yelled. He didn’t mean to yell. But he did yell. He realized this immediately and felt guilty. He was trying to be more patient with her.
“Well?” she asked. She had been talking again. He had missed it.
“I’m sorry, Mom. Did you say something about a pin?”
“Did we bring Daddy’s rotary pin?”
“Oh. Uh, I think Sarah did.”
“Good.”
Did she bring it? Did she even have it? He wasn’t actually sure… She had sort o taken the lead in the whole thing. She was, though, the older sibling by eleven years. She had been on the scene for a long time before he was even introduced to this family… Like Ted McGinley in Happy Days, he thought. He smiled to himself. But that would mean we are going to get canceled. Although I guess Dad’s death was a type of cancellation. Jesus fuck that went sad fast.

>>10297596
Great sound

>>10310136
You're trying for a more technical tone here, right? If so, your priority is to stick to your tone no matter what.
Overall, your first paragraph flows properly, so I'll point few things here and there and then switch to the second paragraph.
I'm not the patient for genre fiction so it'd help me if you submitted a conflict scene too.
>Año 47 después de Rath, (...) de sus cuatro miembros principales.
"Crepúsculo" is okay, but I'd suggest "90 minutos para la puesta de Sol" because it sounds film-sy and can help you convey the atmosphere without it being cliché'd.
"Durante el alba" is awful though. Doesn't match the tone. Try "Al amanecer".
"Su piel continua con parches (...)" What does this sentence mean? Are the "parches" the treatment? Are they a symptom that's interacting with the rest?
The next paragraphs need a thorough consistency check.
Delete "Afortunadamente" and "en general".
"Al principio pensé que el medicamento (...) demostraron el error en que estaba."
You can't say that in a report. Try "El examen preliminar sugería que el tratamiento con dióxido de sulfuro causaría quemaduras en los pulmones y, en cuestión de horas, se extendería causando irritaciones generalizadas. Bajo la supervisión del doctor McAngel, aplicamos el tratamiento a las (hora y día del tratamiento, muy brevemente). El paciente evoluciona positivamente: aún se encuentra en estado crítico, pero la expansión ha remitido."
Delete "de todas maneras" and try to be consistent with your use of articles ("Las pupilas y el iris siguen encarnizándose/ (...) que el día del internamiento.")
The last four sentences are okay, but they need a rephrasing.
/I'll finish my critique on another post/

>>10279473
Kill yourself red swine

>>10311796
>>10310136
>Milos bajó la grabadora de voz mecánica (...)
Aren't they all mechanical?
>volteó su mirada
Clumsy. Rephrase that.
>un paciente reposado en una camilla (...) realizando exhaustivos experimentos.
You're overdescribing. In my opinion you could get a better result by describing the building's layout and explaining briefly what they're used for. Also, you're using the same pace to write a technical report as to describe the doctors rushing to save the lifes of the patients.
My diagnosis: have your character glance at stuff more often, be more to the point and use shorter sentences when describing things happening fast (it'll help you build better action scenes) and try to hint something more ominous soon, as your writing could get boring unless there's an actual threat.

>>10309471
Ich hatte zwei Semester Deutsch zwei Jahre vorher, und nun lese ich Zeitungen auf Deutsch von Zeit zu Zeit.

>>10307770
I'd remove the comma between unbroken and blue to give it more flow. I'd also remove that "she always checked the time before the notification" - it's already discernible from the text. Just start next line with "There was..." instead of "it was".

Apart from that it's a good start. Just needs a little trimming here and there

>>10311818
Rubbish. Only, there's one salvageable line:
>I will become hope, live on it, like some monk on sunbeams and dew...

Ditch the rest and work with that line. Make something comprehensible. No one likes wankery

"Here we are, the power of stone and the grace of fire.
You know this is, and was, and will be
But of course we speak much higher than these shallows about us, we their betters and they our lessers
So some time ago(quite some time ago) a cold lot of them came before your equally exceptional forefathers and began to speak stupid
' Ya we bash!.?'
Their stupidity confused even them
More appropriately angered
Your wise(tall, strong, handsome) ancestors responded wisely and did not respond.
They were quite the brutes, the runts, as they'd soon show, they though to lay us low
'So come now, die!'
And the low ones slosh approached our great laughing fathers, who I imagine quite cleverly replied
'Hahaha! Look at their shallow heads! Come, let's make their heads even shallower, with, rocks!'
quite merry

Those about us can no longer even speak stupid, they wander the forest and only seem to make spittle."

People love to ask why Im continuously switching up my smokes. What spurns such a tedious curiosity if I may ask? Is the capitalistic spirit of this country really perverse enough to demand brand loyalty for a product that the public labels commercialized cancer? Have we no shame? Obviously not. Why pose such a question in the first place. In fairness to the tobacco gods half of American products could be equated to 'cancer in a box' if viewed under the same lense. Still the volk never reduce Ronald or the King to death between a bun, and so such a casual inquiry will always strike me as morbid. If an answer must be given I'll give it to you straight. It's simple, I don't want any of those cunts owning too large a slice of my wallet. Marlboro can't own my soul if Newport and camel have there greasy fingers hooked in the pie too. When your huffing and puffing on a Red you may as well be blowing the CEO of Marlboro himself. I don't want one of there pricks to have the satisfaction of being sucked off too many times by yours truly. Does that make me a slut for sucking around and not sticking to one? No because I'm lining there pockets with every mouthful. If anything they're the whores and I just don't want one whore getting too rich off my dime. If I'm paying to fuck then I'm sure as shit not plowing only one. That would be no different then marriage. And I'm not marrying a whore. Or anyone for that matter.

Here's an excerpt from a short story I wrote.
I've been writing for a while now, but I've never shown another human being anything I've written, mostly because I'm very insecure. I don't mind being bad since I'm only writing for myself, but I do want to get better. Normally I've just been relying on what I think sounds good, but I'm curious whether or not I'm doing anything glaringly bad since I've never actually had any external criticism.

I'm aware I probably put too much into the details, but that's how I like it. Any useful criticism would be greatly appreciated before I crawl back inside my hole.

>>10312651
Speed enhances my hunger for life. A couple lines and I'm starving for experience. Famished for adventure, renewing an unquenchable desire deep in my soul to live. To talk. To explore. To fuck. To embrace the energy of existence and sprint to the corners of possibility. Yet while stimulating my spirits appetite it suppresses my bodies. Why the fuck do you think I'm so damn skinny. I'm no anorexic. I may be restrictive in my eating but it's a painless effort. The hardy concoction of stimulants which fuel my engine erase the desire to stuff my gullet. Eating very rarely occupies my thoughts, while an anorexics mind is consumed by it. There life is centered around food, day in and day out constant hunger. Constant denial of what there body craves. And when there wall of willpower finally crumbles they gorge themselves on every edible item in there vicinity. And while there belly hangs full and heavy, the shame weighs heavier. Crushing there soul in agonizing remorse. To alleviate there burden they burrow there fragile glass wrists down there emaciated neck, and probe around with silent desperation, searching for the fleshy switch that will purge there body of its weight.

>>10312651
>>10312668
A real gift for language—a hyperbrain skipping across potholes. If you'd slow down a bit, it'd be easier to pick the diamonds out of our teeth.

>>10310623
Unfiltered psychological truth not quite keeping pace with the expression. But definitely intelligence closing in from all sides, nouns, verbs, &c. Stop screwing in the grammar and start riveting. PFT PFT PFT PFT not SQ SQ SQ SQ.

>>10312796
Please adopt a trip!

>>10308069
Your ability goes deep into the unlit mineshafts of experience—words luminous, Faraday twirling lexical loops showing us the way through the contours of your demolitions.

Preposition Ratio: 12.82 % [prepositinos / total words]

Zombie nouns: 'population', 'notion', 'intensity'

Lexical Diversity: 45.75 % [uniqure words / total words]

Content Carrying Words: 57.71 % [(total words - most common words) / total words]

Personal Vocab Diversity: 66.45 % [(unique words - most common words) / total words]

Longest word: 'unintelligible'

>>10312846
>being this new

At least you're off r/books or wherever

>>10312853
please! it would help us all out.

>he ran out of kincaid paintings to post
Boy, a real shame

>>10312796
Thanks, there excerpts from a semi autobiographical novel I'm writing

Care to read a few more random passages?

Bump

>>10312999
Duh

>>10313715
Bruce is a rare breed, an amalgamation of supercharged humanity. Few exist who deserve more admiration. Bruce is a man of limitless ideas and a dreamer of infinite possibilities. The sort who effortlessly generate countless schemes and pursuits but rarely put there plans into motion. There are two types who fall into such category. There's the introverted idea men, these are the chaps who spend every hour in there own heads without doing a damn thing. Wastes of good flesh and bone. Now the extroverted sort, they're living saints, angels who grace us with they're presence. Sure they don't get a damn thing done either, but every one of there fantastically ambitious plans escape there mouths unfiltered. Swimming out into the world and inseminating the fertile minds of us simple folk with divine inspiration. Bruce is a goddamn nuclear battery, just being in ear shot is more energizing then a needle full of pure adrenaline right between the ribs. A natural story teller, with a tongue quicker then a hare, sans the actual hair. And a wit even quicker yet, by the time it takes to process one of his jokes he is already 3 sentences ahead. Keep up. A natural con man by nature, but good hearted for the most part. It's as if Cowboy Neal himself reincarnated as a short and chubby black chap with glasses. All his plans and ambitions are rooted in his one eternal desire, his singular never ending fixation, pussy. I've never met a man with such a titanic libido, with such an insatiable and ravenous craving for coitus. And he does a damn good job at satiating his hunger. It wasn't his appearance that opened up flowers, but that gift of the goddamn gab. Hell he had more Eire in him then all of Boston. God bless the Black Irish. I really got a good look at the paddy in him one night while I was whistling to whiskey in the jar, and with the vocal range of a deaf leprechaun he sung "As I was going over the far flung Corey mountains, I met with captain Harold and his money he be counting!" That Mick in disguise even butchered the lyrics like a real potato head would. The limey Ulstermen who ran the place were not thrilled by our soulful duet, but Ronnie Drew would have been damn proud. That is unless the "student chap with skin as black as coal" was Bruce's grandfather from across the lake. It would explain where he got that wee bit of starch in his veins, and his penchant for courting pretty fair maidens in the morning bright and early. I wonder if Molly Malone ever got a taste of his family tree back in the rare auld times.
But Bruce supplied a simpler explanation. "Of course I know the Dubliners, Ive cross pollinated with your people in the past."

>>10312218
I need I'd realize it sucked in the morning...
all right I feigned humbility PLEASE give me attention now

>>10313801
Bruce hosted "shindigs." It didn't take much questioning to squeeze out of him what exactly went down at these gatherings, I figured his apprehensiveness was not so much an unwillingness to reveal his perversity but more so an effort to create mystery, but I finally got a "yeah pretty much" when I inquired if these shindigs were of the 'eyes wide shut' variety. It touched my heart to discover that Bruce was a fellow deviant.

>>10313801
>>10313807
I take it all back. Yikes.

>>10314546
Don't worry, I'm far too narcissistic to place merit in criticism

>>10314597
Me? Worry?

The levels of narcissism in these threads are what brings me here.

The only things worse than the paltry ass-pickings posted for review are the critiques.

>>10314874
The irony of this post is almost poetic

>>10315124
It may be surprising—especially to a teen boy—that there are modes of existence beyond and between me me me.

And don't throw around irony and used up hack phrases thinking they're knives. It gives you away %^)

>>10315299
Irony is irony. You shouldn't mistake pointless abstrucity for genius.

In case you were mistaken, I'm not the one you were originally replying to

>>10290340
I just can't get away from you can I? Things are different now.

>>10315341
Who cares? There's no mistake to be made. Also, you misspelt abstrusity. Pretty cringey, everything considered.