/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.11189409]

Critique Thread
C-C-R-R-I-I-T-T-I-I-C-C-A-A-L-L E-D-I-T-I-O-N

[Anonymous No.11189426]

Given that I may keel and die
The horses' shrieking neigh
Or the bay's soft patterned sway

Given that I may keel and die
What a lame and lonely day
I do not mind their shouting

[Anonymous No.11189844]

He labored up the small hill where they had placed the ammunition. Boots gripped by mud, stuck, wrenched free then stuck again a foot ahead. Samara slip down to his position and helped him carry the gun up the rest of the way. The slick sound of their feet trudging upwards was the only break from the silence. The nest had been washed out by the rains and the two men collapsed onto their stomachs on the mud, protected only by the apex of the hill. They laid the gun on a shower towel. Crisp air, clear cobalt night, pale moon precariously low over the wet expanse. Samara dutifully loaded rounds into spare magazines with trembling hands and short breaths. Heaven’s vaulted ceiling illuminated by crystalline stars, a noble blue air hovering over the fragile souls softly murmuring to each other in terrified anticipation. He loaded the gun and scanned the fields of rice paddies which spanned from their defensive line all the way to the titanic mountains on the horizon. Their still waters reflected the sky’s royal lights. Anticipation was its own monster. He stood slowly then leaned forward into the night, that bright blue night, cold air burning his lungs and flickering life coalescing into a single moment of ephemeral being. His hands too, were shaking. He held his head back and look directly up into the cloudless stained-glass empyrean then closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His breath’s vapor, visible in the air faintly ascended and faintly left the world of the living.

[Anonymous No.11189852]

what's so critical about this edition

[Anonymous No.11189874]

>>11189844

the slick sound of their feet trudging, seems like a poor use of the word slick or trudging. i love the juxtaposition of the sentence beginning "Crisp air.." followed by the sentence about loading the guns. stylistically, for me its slightly too descriptive, maybe slightly overwrought, thats my opinion tho

[Anonymous No.11189887]

>>11189844
well done, you can write. too on the nose towards the end - save that kind of floruish for something more significant in the story. overall bretty good

[Anonymous No.11189905]

There is a barbershop on Manchester Road in which the capes aren’t black but blue. You go in and wait your turn and the wait can be some time but it’s okay because whilst you wait a hi tech music system blares trap music made by rappers from Atlanta, Georgia with lines such as ‘I’m flexing on your bitch don’t forget about me’. It’s kind of funny to note the contrast between the music and the people that are listening to it, gormless children normally. Anyways, eventually it’s your turn to go up and so you go and take a seat in the barber’s chair. The barber, a Kurdish man wraps you in this blue cape whilst asking you what you want done before starting his inevitable discourse on the merits of Kurdish independence. Oh and there’s this TV always on that plays silent reruns of Antiques Roadshow or Bargain Hunt, or whatever’s on Freeview. At some point you’ll notice the blue cape is full of cartoon images, in the Japanese animation style, of preteen girls and cutesy platitudes based on love. And suddenly you’re smiling and then you’re sighing and acutely aware that everything, everything, about this situation is uncanny valley esque, too-real-to-be real.

[Anonymous No.11189915]

>>11189905
this swings wildly between competent and austistic but ultimately settles on autistic

[Anonymous No.11189954]

>>11189915

thanks for the feedback

[Anonymous No.11190229]

>>11189874
Thanks. The "slick trudging" sentence was the last one I added, and I was pretty unsure of it. I definitely want a line near the beginning highlighting the quietness.
>>11189887
Appreciate it. This excerpt does come from near the ending of the story, but I agree with you.

[Anonymous No.11190238]

>>11189409
Thanks guys!

[Anonymous No.11190245]

>>11189409
Is it Pynchon?

[Anonymous No.11190339]

My father, Wandsworth’s eminent messenger of public knowledge, retired last month to better spend his time sailing and singing. Nearly half a century strong because "it never really got bad enough to give up.” The only time he took a day off was when he broke his hip cycling on black ice. Something less and more than admirable: the dogsbody of the gods. There, and back again, gliding down and sweating up the sloped ridges of the Trinity motorway, charging out the gullet of London as it swallowed whole a shopping complex. The red-faced Victorian sat aside; but as the jaws of the earth closed all about it, the increasing tilt of the ground leant the old chap forwards at minor increments, folding itself top to bottom into the vacuum of the void. He was never around much to notice the difference. Always on the move. Perhaps he passed so quickly and so many times in and out through its doors, out onto the inclined rat’s alley, that their motions were like mutable partners in a dance of inevitable decline.

"A tractable service is our mobile library!” He would proclaim loudly at the dinner table, "and I know can carry the hide to survive each bite of cuts– but only just."

I wonder sometimes– Did he keep it well fed and sheltered? Dragged out of the scorched frame, so it wouldn't die of Spanish flu on the cold, hard ground?

I can remember that long holiday haul north, set to the dull croons of some jerk, a “Mr." Hank Williams.

Along the M40 daddy wanted to see its resting place. Despite the heat of the day, I stayed in the car and glared through its tinted windows. "A little rusty", he said upon returning, "and stripped of its shelves, but otherwise doing just fine."

"I’ll admit, it is a little hard to see an old friend die."

[Anonymous No.11190403]

>>11190238
Great. Simple setup and really smooth execution. You really know what you're doing when it comes to building suspense.

>>11190245
It's bleaky comic, but I think you make the kids a little too brattish to be believable. You could do something more interesting than simply spelling out their indifference

>>11189905
Same with this, don't explicitly say "It's kind of funny", just allow the natural comedy of the scene to express itself. Can't say i was expecting loli at the end which tickled me

>>11189844
It's a powerful contrast of images, and it borders on the poetic at times, but if you're taking a narrative approach there's something about the purity of the night's sky which detracts a little too much from the mess of war. I want to see even the heavens tainted and stained by the mud and bloodshed. But beyond that personal quibble its fairly impressive.

[Anonymous No.11190476]

From last thread.
>This is an experiment from a while ago. Would appreciate feedback.
>>He threw the papers. They cascaded in flight, landed on the table, and shuffled again upon sliding off. Both monkeys and the Zebra noticed, but he didn't. His mind was somewhere else. It was TOO somewhere else. Focused on the events of last night he shouted its name. "Margar!" This startled the giraffe, but it calmed down before the second more defeated utterance by the man. "Margar..." One monkey farts. The man cries. The other monkey picks up a banana and shoves half of it up a nose. The nose snorts it in and blows it out. Eating the other half, the famished ape starts scouring through the giraffes coat for food. With the free hand it pulls out a flea from the inside pocket and chucks it at the equidae. "Ohhh" the man moans. "Why..." the Zebra looks at the monkey and hee haws a whispered
>>"Why'd you throw that?"
>>The monkey looks the equidae in the eyes and hee haws a "You're."
>>The room was silent in between each of 6 farts that have passed and both apes are now starving eating anything in sight!
>>The man has been devoured. His intestinal scraps lay behind the turgid Zebra carcass and it's non existent hind arms. The giraffe had eaten itself in fear of its own life!
>>Margar enters.
>>Margar leaves.
>>Margar disintegrates.
>>Margar is trapped within an existential cyclical void not knowing which way is forward.
>>Her gaze was a prisoner, but was still in the man's mind as it whispered into the air from a Monkeys burp.
>>Margar.

[Anonymous No.11190961]

Critique threads been dying lately. Perhaps everything is/was garbage. Or everyone is too selfish.

[Anonymous No.11191074]

>>11189409
I don't know what it is, but I like writing to pictures.

Let's give it a go.

-------

https://youtu.be/RDPNjIbFGsI


The beast had claimed Lillie's life, and tonight, he would claim it's.

On each corner of the city, he left her mark. The Rainbow and the Hanging Bird-to let them know who's life they fought for. The deed would not go unpunished. When the other children, snooping the streets for left over scraps and bits of trash worth gold saw her mark, they knew it was time.

Anon stood upon his thrown, and the wretched stench of the rotting garbage inside the cold metal snuck into his lungs like a disease. His backpack was full, and his weapon clenched tight in his hand.

They came from both sides of the alley. Dozens upon dozens of them, ranging from skinny little girls in torn dresses to boys on the verge of becoming men in beat up jeans. All of them were armed, all of them ready, and it was in that instant that Anon realized, truly, how many lives Lilly had touched in her short time on this earth.

He held up his weapon, and the army theirs.

They were ready for revenge.

[Anonymous No.11191083]

>>11190476
what the fuck did I just read?

[Anonymous No.11191145]

>>11189426
The last line kind of threw me off of the rest of it.
>>11189844
Could use some better wording in some spots, but over all pretty good. Would keep reading.
>>11190238
63 degrees isn't hot
>>11190245
Not sure if legitimately trying to write, or messing with us, but you actually have my attention and I want to read more.
>>11190339
I like the imagery you have going on with the word choice, but it could use some editing.

[Anonymous No.11191156]

>>11190961
Do some critiquing anon. Thread ain't gonna bump itself, ya know.

[Anonymous No.11191230]

>>11191156
Here it goes, currently at a bar, sitting alone, drinking an old fashioned. How gay am I /lit? I bet it'd be gayer if I said "How gay am I /lit? Lol."

>>11190245

I haven't read Pynchon, but it's pretty good. It holds attention. I think the sentence about the children's anxiety to open presents weakens it a bit, but the rest packs a punch.

>>11189426

I agree with >>11191145
I don't understand the point of the break. Perhaps I am looking into it too much, but if the break was to symbolize some sort of distracted attention, then ya that is a good literary device or little tactic I suppose yet still a little weak in this context. But here he is saying that he does not mind the shouting, so the break does not signify much in that context. Perhaps someone else can critique the meter? I feel as though it is off.

There you go guys.

[Anonymous No.11191251]

>>11191230
>How gay am I /lit?

Only slightly. Only slightly.

[Anonymous No.11191303]

>>11191251
Lol. This bar literally has 5 people in it- me the bouncer and 2 customers. One is walking towards the door and has just left. It was a black guy in a security jacket. It is playing south park on the tv. The bartender is talking to someone at the bar. I'm sitting away for the bar.

[Anonymous No.11191338]

>>11191303
Write the scene, man. Give us an image to work with.

[Anonymous No.11191429]

Bamp. Come on you late night lurkers, get in here.

[Anonymous No.11191626]

>>11191338

Jesus. This guy literally just tried to debate anarchy with me for an hour. "Everything is bullshit man."

[Anonymous No.11191707]

I just put on its not unusual by Tom Jones.

[Anonymous No.11191826]

The only three girls have now just left. Will return with a recap of the night I guess. Not that funny but I guess that depends on the writer and the perceiver?

[Anonymous No.11192147]

By lilies white and amber light,
I board that gravedigger's bus
Through sea of light. by veil of night,
I ride that gravedigger's road
O sinful sight, bury the white,
I fill that gravedigger's hole

[Anonymous No.11192316]

Ever since I met ya I could peep the pressure
It's like your man don't understand, all he does is stress ya
I can see your state of misery from the introduction
Ain't 'bout no sucking and touching, just harmless discussion
Maybe we can see a better way, find a brighter day
Late night phone conversations -- would that be OK?
I don't wanna take up all your time, be the next in line
Tell me your size, let me find you things with you in mind
I can see you're cautious and I'm careful not to scare you
The anticipation of love making, got you shaking when I'm standing near you
News of precision will prepare ya
In case you get scared, just ask the man in the mirror
Now the picture's gettin' clearer all he does is hit you hard
I tell you to leave him, and you tell me keep my faith in God
I don't understand, I just wanna bring ya home
I wonder should I leave you alone and find a woman of my own
All the homies tell me that you don't deserve it
I contemplate but in my heart I know you worth it

Could it be my destiny to be lonely?
Ain't checkin' for these hoochies that be on me cause they phony
But you was different -- I got no need to be suspicious
Cause I can tell -- my life with you would be delicious
The way you lick your lips and shake your hips got me addicted
I'm sittin' here hoping that we can find some way to kick it
Even though I got your digits gotta struggle to resist it
Slowly advance when it's my chance not to miss it
You blow me kisses
When he ain't lookin', now your heart's tooken
My only wish is that you change your mind and he get shook
Wanna take you there but you scared to follow, come see tomorrow
Hoping I can take you through the pain and sorrow
Let you know I care -- that someone's there for your struggle
Depend on me, when you have needs or there's trouble
I wanna give you happiness and maybe even more
I told you before, no time to waste we can hook up at the store

[Anonymous No.11192326]

>>11189409
Her name will not last forever. This is because She was not here in the beginning and I won’t be here at the end. Perhaps you have had the thought that life has no meaning, that god does not exist. Can you make your own meaning? Can you be your own god? Meaning can only exist because there is no meaning. Just as good is evil. Easy is difficult.
Yes, but if that is true, doesn’t that mean that everything has meaning? We are behind cellar doors. Hanging from hooks above the pit. Our skin itches and our eyes water. If what exists is what is in the world. Death does not exist because we can’t experience it.
“Then let us experience death.” We said to the world.

[Anonymous No.11192505]

>>11192147
"Gravedigger's hole" sounds like a euphemism for the anus
Beyond that the rhyme scheme is a little rudimentary

>>11192326
Don't take yourself quite so seriously pls

[Anonymous No.11192525]

>>11192505
lol it is a euphemism

[Anonymous No.11192813]

>>11192326
>Instrumentality psycho-bable
Just get in the robot and shut the fuck up

[Anonymous No.11193315]

Bump

[Anonymous No.11194045]

Bunk

[Anonymous No.11194669]

>>11194045
Bunt

[Anonymous No.11195375]

>>11194669
Cunt?

[Anonymous No.11196570]

Still a page to go, but it’s five minutes to eight. I’ve got some text I have to dispose of on this white junkyard. The hounds on the junkyard are white too, maybe dalmatians with their spots fallen off, painted over by the whiteness that takes over the whole page. There are dalmatians hiding in all the text you read, hidden in the black and white on the text of the page, perfectly camouflaged as periods and the tops of semicolons and dotted i’s and j’s. And one day, if you’re not careful, if you read too much, you will read the sentence that hides the most rabid junkyard dog of the bunch. It will reach out and bite you, and one of two things will happen: A, you will become as rabid as the beast that bit you, and you’ll shamble through life frothing at the mouth, lashing out at everything, trying to spread your disease throughout the world. In all likelihood you won’t even spread it to one person. Unsatisfying for you, but so much the better for the rest of the world. B, however is the more likely occurrence, where that mad Dalmatian will grab you by the face and drag you into the scrapheap of words with him, and none shall see you again, left to walk through the white junkyard the rest of your life, scrambling over the uneven terrain of run-on sentences and incomplete paragraphs and point-form notes that go nowhere. You’ll begin to convince yourself that the white of the page is the light of the sun, and then someone will close the book.
Now you will continue to read.
Now you will continue to write.
The dogs will continue to eat and multiply.

[Anonymous No.11197377]

>>11192326
It's a little too out of context for me to try and critique; do you have a bigger chunk of it?

[Anonymous No.11197383]

>>11196570
Nice imagery.

[Anonymous No.11197426]

>>11190476
bump

[Anonymous No.11197447]

Oggi ho fatto tutte le cose
che mi sono detto fai
ho sistemato la stanza
corso in un rovo di cavi
la rilevazione è stata:
tutto è un cavo, oggi
niente è una corda

/

Today i did every thing
that i said to myself do
i setted the room
ran in a bramble of cables
the detection was:
everything is a cable, today
nothing is a rope

[Anonymous No.11197582]

I have had a conversation with an ancient king,
In his hidden and cold court.
His hatred fierce, his face dark
and flesh rotten and dying.
Weary eyes never blinking stared at me.

"I am ancient and wise, more than you could ever comprehend."
His voice set the air shivering
With the dreaded fear of death.
"My might..."
The king rose, reaching to the middle of the pine trees that hid him, and rasped,
"Is greater than you may ever understand."

Far below him, sitting at the edge of the forest,
A girl, thin and pale, looked up to meet my eyes.
"Our palace is forgotten and unkempt.
No one remembers but one."
She stepped out into the glow of the fire, and cried out,
"You were the only who remembered!"

The dark woods echoed with her cries
but before I could respond they slipped away
Back into their realm of unlight
And their rule was eternal and silent.

[Anonymous No.11197594]

My gargantuan ambitions stand witness only to my failure
On the path to forgiveness I stopped and stared into the crystal pool of regret
Doomed to forever walk under the shadow of my intention
Forgive me, restless master and foul creator
Forgive all my missteps

But do not forget

From the misty mountaintop I gazed upon a sea of cloud
And in the darkest cavern I coveted the light
I felt ever rain drop fall fair and level upon the ocean
I heard the dark creatures that lurk beneath the waves

Between every rise and fall of the tide, the moon sighs with empty relief

'Ah,' he says to himself. 'This the land I have born. This is the fruit of my creation.'

In endless passing of time, there is a continuous motion
It sways, if you stand still enough to feel it - It rocks itself to sleep

[Anonymous No.11197629]

Never again
Never again will I...

Grapple with comedic flaunting of
Pseudo-"smart" exaggeration and facetious
Farce from the cashew gallery.

Happily would leave my ears covered.
Kudos to the artists who aren't capricious.
Narcissisticlessly hewing reality -
An ever tender append

[Anonymous No.11197657]

>>11197582
Trying to hard and not enough talent

>>11197629
Talent but not trying at all

[Anonymous No.11197726]

I will run, you understand
The truck runs fine - runs good
Jackson happened - so bland
You remember in a minute
It was tender like the cable

Plastic - like the steel lantern radio
Listened to you say: I will say nothing
Star person Jackson. Star anything
Star no one and nothing in radio night
Person past him - like you in naked fright

So simply say nothing
And I will agree
Simply say listen
Again and again
With verbose generosity

I'm back in Jackson - with me and grey man
Yellow me this, big man Oh Jacky say so
What did it mean when I declined, when I said no
When did one blanket suck heat and choke lone alone me alone
Jackson, where is the truck, where is it, what have you done

The cold lantern radio steel truck
The cable snow battery power goned
Goned where did I go am I going
In which direction did snow cable come
I am gone I am going, you know you remember

E town, E way low down
The Jackson, the town
The brown, the sown
Jackson yer in town
Hown rown town, Jown

Run red blue yellow grey
You understand understanded
Tender truck member minute
Cable cable was a
Minute happened you remember

[Anonymous No.11197731]

>>11197726
were the last two stanzas english?

[Anonymous No.11197864]

>>11197731
Ye

[Anonymous No.11198060]

People sharing content and refusing to critique is what kills these threads. This isn't your dumping ground, a little respect keeps the thread alive

[Anonymous No.11198124]

>>11197377
The sky was crimson blue. She danced nude whilst being blown by winter winds. Violet dripped down her legs and painted the snow with post-modern art. Finishing her routine she looked at the stars.
“If only I could be everybody.” She said. “I could fight in wars and profit off it too. I could murder and be murdered. My limbs could be hacked off and I would be raped, I would be in bliss knowing that it was me who did it.”
I looked at her, my eyes burned cold.
“Confused? I would expect that, after all you are wearing clothes.”
“What does me wearing clothes have to do with anything?” I said as she stretched towards the stars.
“When a fire is extinguished does it die?”
“It depends on what you mean by die.”
“Don’t use epistemological loop holes you faggot, answer the question.”
“Yes.”
“But if embers remain it has potential to rekindle does it not?”
“If it does it would be a new fire.”

It's just a draft for a philosophical story I am writing. It's not trying to be ground breaking, I just thought it would help me remember concepts better if it had a story to it.

[Anonymous No.11198141]

>>11192147
The repetition of gravedigger's is good however I don't like the repetition of 'white'.
>By lilies white
>bury the white

But that's just me. I think repetition in a short poem should just be one word.

[Anonymous No.11198155]

>>11196570
Nice, Dalmations with their spots fallen off makes me think of for some reason the bat-wing demons in anor londo. Probably because of how you describe them as 'pulling you in'.

[Anonymous No.11198160]

>>11197657
Not enough virtue.

[Anonymous No.11198572]

>>11198124
Can't vouch for this I'm afraid old boy

[Anonymous No.11198983]

The bus driver steps down from the platform. I cannot hear his words, but they are filled with sorrow. I am at the periphery of this great gathering, and stand on my tip-toes to try to see what is happening at the heart of the crowd. I know what has happened, but I want to see if I can help. Cutting through the swell of overcoats and dresses and T-shirts, I see a man built like Hercules holding the girl. He puts two fingers on the side of her neck at the artery.

‘Has anyone called the ambulance?’ he says.

‘I did.’

‘I did too!’

‘Help me sit her up’, he says.

We all watch. She is pale-faced but conscious. Maybe she’s not so plump after all. Under the streetlamps, the sequins of her dress glitter. I want to move in to hold her. I want to say something to her, but there seems to be nothing I could say in this situation that would in any way, shape, or form, alter it for the better. My body is like a piece of driftwood floating out from the shoal. There is a commotion, and people want to see. I am separated from the others, and I’m drifting.

[Anonymous No.11199613]

There are times I know God is laughing at me. He is not laughing with, but at, I know it for certain. Just yesterday, I opened an unopened box of cookies I had gotten days prior from the grocer. I grabbed it from my cabinet opened them and saw that *He* had eaten three- an entire serving. That very same day, I noticed my milk gallon was short 8 fluid oz; that's another serving! For how else would the pristine packages have been bypassed without it being God?
It is either He or Santa Claus...Now that I think of it, they are known to look similar...perhaps I have been naughty? Perhaps he is laughing now...

[Anonymous No.11199761]

>>11199613
Not funny

[Anonymous No.11200055]

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
With witness I speak this. But where I say
Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
To dearest him that lives alas! away.

I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.

[Anonymous No.11200069]

Earth: sprawl of fusion powered lights across the world continent, babbling towers above an endless metropolitan. Preserves inside of preserves. Padded utopia. Bodies curled in comfort. Clear air. Seedy underbelly. Wildly intelligent. Future shock as a lifestyle. Wisdom isolated and mined. Traditions scoured. Machines take priority. Markets salve every desire. Destructive creativity. Cameras in eyes. Hardware memories. Accelerating in every direction. Miracles and awesomeness with nobody there to benefit. A dead child at the beach.

[Anonymous No.11200711]

she had long hair back then and always wore silly dresses. we met because i saw her throw a kitten from her balcony when we were fourteen. the cat seemed very distressed but somehow she managed to grab it in all fours and bury it in the sky. she winked back at me as soon as she did it and then got inside the apartment. i think she mistook me for a cross of sorts. later that day, at the end of the afternoon, when the entire day was sleeping still, i heard people crying outside, and it was her and her family, looking at the sorry body of once-was kitty cat lying dead splat on the concrete, as a red mattress. you would assume they were about to have a nice family picnic, if not because the mother was simply inconsolable. it was a beautiful day, i remember it well because there was a lot of wind over, on, behind and through the trees. my old city was made to feel as if i lived in sweden in the late 90s. i didnt think much of it back then, but as the days went by i thought - this girl is a genius. i thought, this girl is a genius, and that i'm gonna marry her one day.

[Anonymous No.11200766]

>>11199613
>that's another serving!
See
>>11197629 (not my poem)


>Grapple with comedic flaunting of
Pseudo-"smart" exaggeration and facetious
Farce from the cashew gallery.

This is unironically what you're doing. Trying way too hard.

[Anonymous No.11200920]

>>11200055
Huh, you pulled the archaic voice off without sounded too pompous, but I also felt I have read these exact feelings communicated similarly before.
The same lamenting of the 'flesh', cries of 'darkness' the 'black' the 'blood', its all from the same romantic gothic lexicon of sorrow yunno?

The yeast line was nice, and fell of the tongue well, for some reason this feels like the aftermath of a tinder hook up gone too well. Anyway, it's decent. Keep writing, anon.
>>11197629
What inspired you to write this, unironically? I have neuroses so this sounds like me.
>>11192316
Rhyming feels unnecessary and strained, the 'hood' voice is too articulate to feel believable or natural imo. The ending also feels inconclusive, like there should be more.
>>11192147
Good, but inoffensive. Not strictly a critique 2bh.
>>11189409
Rate/Hate
Putting on pastebin since I may wanna use for something -
https://pastebin.com/mqtm9pup

[Anonymous No.11200928]

>>11200766
Ya. It's not my best. I just wrote it last weekend. I originally wanted to make it much darker but then changed plan after not having any time to write something good. I posted it because I was bored.

[Anonymous No.11200939]

>>11189409
>>11200055
Huh, you pulled the archaic voice off without sounding too pompous, but I feel I've read these exact feelings, communicated similarly, before.
The same lamenting of the 'flesh', cries of 'darkness' the 'black' the 'blood', its all from the same romantic gothic lexicon of sorrow, yunno?

The yeast line was nice, and fell of the tongue well, for some reason this feels like the aftermath of a tinder hook up gone too well. Anyway, it's decent. Keep writing, anon.
>>11197629
What inspired you to write this, unironically? I have neuroses so this sounds like me.
>>11192316
The rhymes feel unnecessary and strained, the 'hood' voice is too articulate to feel believable or natural imo. The ending also feels inconclusive, like there should be more.
>>11192147
Good, but inoffensive. Not strictly a critique 2bh.
>>11189409 (OP)
Rate/Hate
Putting on pastebin since I may wanna use for something -
https://pastebin.com/mqtm9pup

[Anonymous No.11200950]

>>11200928
Fair enough anon, I think if you take your perspective out of the poem a bit, it could be funnier, just throw the reader into the situation and let them take the humour from it without you standing there jibing them on.

[Anonymous No.11201086]

>>11200950
Thanks for the honest feedback. I'll rewrite this in a way that's more genuine and see if you like it. Hopefully you will actually see it whether it be on this thread or another.

[Anonymous No.11201101]

Poem About Writing

I write to be written,
I read to be well-read.
I like to wipe my arse
until I’ve bloody left it red.

I love to be smitten,
I fuck to be well-bred,
Sometimes I clean the urine out
from under hospital beds.

I watch TV to be placated,
and I watch porn just to protest.
I want to be a girl sometimes,
if it weren’t for the hairy chest.

I can’t stand to be humiliated,
But I won’t sit to hide the shame.
Oh, would you look at that,
Tom's gone and pissed himself again!
Though,
at least it doesn’t (that badly) stain.

[Anonymous No.11201106]

any germans?

[Anonymous No.11201113]

>>11190238
Unironically you may be the best poster on this board. Go write instead of shitposting on this useless board.

[Anonymous No.11201164]

>>11200711
this is good but:
>there was a lot of wind over, on behind and through the trees
just say
>there was a lot of wind sweeping through the trees
or something that doesn't require so much stopping and starting, don't be afraid to be efficient. editing helps

>>11200069
Maybe lay off nick land, or at least try to incorporate that deranged runaway stye into actually saying something meaningful with it. Right now you're just impersonating without any substance

[Anonymous No.11201211]

>>11201164
the nick land stuff is just setting a setting for a chapter, I hope to say something meaningful around it, so you'll have to read the whole project eh.

but while you are at it, what is the most egregious line in that section that stood out? ill excise it.

[Anonymous No.11201220]

>>11201101
its a humorous piece that did not make me laugh much... Being crude, gross seems overdone at this point but maybe thats just me. I like the cognitive playfulness though, the first two lines and the "I want to be a girl" part most. Sonically very nice too.

[Anonymous No.11201228]

Same guy as above, here's my piece:


A Breakfast in my backyard

I vaulted on the paving stones
Sat alone at the glass table on a floral
Wrought iron chair, five scrambled eggs
And a sliced orange and the soft aromas of
Resurrectings flossed in the seams,
Spring balanced me on its fingertips.
The Thing was such I felt gargantuant,
Exhuding myself, light as a swimming pool,
I even figured a songbird would start to sing,
Sashaying crocuses uncork a cloud,
The Pouring sun ebb over
Blind and teetering tree-mouthes
Tangled tongues out in their buds.

Then satiated I abated to the glass
Sliding-doors but they would not budge-
The cruel acrobacy when I discerned
My own face on the other side
Holding the handle shut!

[Anonymous No.11201284]

>>11197447
I felt this on a deep level for some reason, even though I don't understand it. Good job.

[Anonymous No.11201290]

>>11199613
Underrated, I like it

[Anonymous No.11201315]

>>11192316
This is one of my favorite songs. Glad to see 2pac on lit

[Anonymous No.11201321]

>>11189409
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wv9XZCO7K-0

[Anonymous No.11201325]

>>11197447
From one anon to another I say with unadulterated sincerity that this was a beautiful poem and you, friend, are a poet. Keep writing please, for the rest of us suckers who can’t or will never bother to acquire your talent.

[Anonymous No.11201355]

>>11189409
the black sack

if i want to
stay my stay
in the black
sack
what am i to do?
pour some canada dry
in a glass
peel an orange
squeeze the juice
toss in the peel
muddle with bitters
and simple syrup
add ice
to ease its passage
down my gullet?
donate to charity
help build wells
eat less meat
dry my hands with rags
not paper towels
find a way
to direct
my mind
to the anima
the good?
a helpless sliver
in a vacuum
but all the more precious
being so.

[Anonymous No.11201359]

>>11201290

Hmm, if this isn't facetious, what is it that you liked? Mind elaborating?

I ask because another anon just said how they didn't like its try-hard vibe, and I also didn't see much value in it either.

[Anonymous No.11201373]

>>11197447
It's kino, concise and highlights the scene and character at once.

Fuck the pastebin, posting.
To everyone I am
I am every how I'm seen:
a hood of culture,
that disposes its sweat
licked baggage on me.
Your pity clefts my heels,
as I move
you clap on inwardly
then swipe history's talons
on my unexposed
coal.
No, that wouldn't do Samaritans:

"This child is naked!

we should

stretch our hands in him,

tack on old clothes,

then have him pose and

strut his beggar's song for us."

Well fuck you too,
I've my own clothes

I chose myself

Yes me

Me me!

I'm still moving while you wail

from pasts you still coffee house in.

I drift and you'd double bind me;
and so
I'll be about, always about, not

when or whence then shot to
withered consciousness.


I'm Black, okay, that's cool, and you?

A dairy dream
of milk and honey furnaces -
from smokes I rise,
see humanly,
unpeel these eyes.

[Anonymous No.11201380]

Damn you.

You are one to blame.

Having taken the fall for yours.

You were our sacrifice.

...

Plus another one that is also on my page.

[Anonymous No.11201419]

>>11201355
i'll preface my critiques by saying this is me, so take these how you will.
>>11189426
it's not bad, i just don't think it's doing much that is original.
>>11192147
i think this rhyme scheme may in fact be stifling something more profound you might be trying to say. try to play around with it.
>>11197447
just beautiful anon.
>>11197582
i like the narrative here.
would fix: "weary eyes, never blinking, stared at me."
>>11197629
browse /lit/ less. i say that as someone who also browses lit too much.
>>11197726
i like the sound of this. the cadence and meter really appeals to me. good stuff.
>>11198124
i need to see more to try to fully understand where you're going here. i'd probably try to avoid using the word epistemological though. it sticks out as the only "jargon" in this piece. try to break down what you really mean by 'espistemological' into simpler terms. get at the heart of it.
>>11200055
keats did it better. he always will, anon.
>>11201101
first stanza is gold. thank you for not being humorless. that's an underrated trait

[Anonymous No.11201424]

>>11197447 #
It's kino, concise and highlights scene and character at once.
My feedback's here
>>11200939
Posting:
To everyone I am,
I am every how I'm seen:
a hood of culture,
that disposes its sweat
licked baggage on me.

Your pity clefts my heels:
as I move
you clap on so inwardly,
then swipe history's talons
on my unexposed
coal.

No, that wouldn't do Samaritans:
"This child is naked!
we should
stretch our hands in him,
tack on old clothes,
then have him pose and
strut his beggar's song for us."
Well fuck you too,
I've my own clothes
I chose myself
Yes me
Me me!

I'm still moving while you wail
from pasts you still coffee house in.

I drift and you'd double bind me
and so
I'll be about, always about, not
when or whence then shot to
withered consciousness.


I'm Black, okay, that's cool, and you?
A dairy dream
of milk and honey furnaces
from smokes I rise,
see humanly,
unpeel these eyes

[Anonymous No.11201466]

>>11197447
It's kino, concise and highlights scene and character at once.
My feedback's here
>>11200939
Posting:
To everyone I am,
I am every how I'm seen:
a hood of culture,
that disposes its sweat
licked baggage on me.

Your pity clefts my heels:
as I move
you clap on so inwardly,
then swipe history's talons
on my unexposed
coal.

No, that wouldn't do Samaritans:
"This child is naked!
we should
stretch our hands in him,
tack on old clothes,
then have him pose and
strut his beggar's song for us."
Well fuck you too,
I've my own clothes
I chose myself
Yes me
Me me!

I'm still moving while you wail
from pasts you still coffee house in.

I'm Black, okay, that's cool, and you?
A dairy dream
of milk and honey furnaces
from smokes I rise,
see humanly,
unpeel these eyes

[Anonymous No.11201502]

I more need advice. I’m new to writing and I’m having trouble with the story. I have the big plot points and how the story goes but I can’t figure out how to fill in the story. I know my world and setting but I can’t make the story flow from a to b.

[Anonymous No.11201536]

>>11200766
>>11200950

Here, let me know if this is any better, don't think I am done with this one. It's hard to get the idea down- they never come out how I imagine...but this is definitely closer to what I had in mind when I first thought of God tantalizing someone.


Once again I am stuck in the reverberating echoes of God's laughter. I am stuck in His cold dark chamber with a slight candle to keep warm. He watches from above while the candle melts a pool of hot wet wax which I pour over my body in order to create a warm and encompassing coat- my shelter. This is precisely when He laughs. He places food at the opposite corner of the chamber, and becomes giddy as I crack my coat crawling carefully trying to keep it in tact. He laughs as the food carries a delicious aroma while having a most bland taste. And then He laughs as the temperature contrasts the item being served. Lately, I wonder if it'd be better to starve than to hear his most maniacal cackles, but at least I am the one deciding whether he laughs or does not.

[Anonymous No.11201600]

>>11201220
>>11201419
Appreciate the comments. Writing for me is like picking at a scab or playing with my own shit, which is probably why I like Rabelais and Chaucer so much. I love contrasting a tightly-wound rhyming form with idiotic, banal toilet humour. It makes the element of personal confession seem more like an act of excretion, which is exactly what it is– and who doesn't feel a certain metaphysical relief after cracking out a brown demon?

[Anonymous No.11201698]

>>11201600
haha, you're exactly right, and you're certainly in good company. the amount of ass/shit jokes in Shakespeare alone...

[Anonymous No.11201859]

>>11201164
thanks. that part really isn't in line with what i generally write so i was expecting it to be misguided. i think efficiency fits here, but i still like to somehow retain the pause as a break that measures how fixated he is with this cold/concrete/soviet block/trees scenery, in juxtaposition to how rather swiftly he passes by the gruesome scenery.

[Anonymous No.11202788]

>>11197629
this is me

>>11200939
desu i wrote this while listening to Bill Maher's guests argue about the riots in the Gaza Strip while browsing /lit/

Thought it grasped the essence of fake news talk show hosts and my artistic drive to filter their bullshit into something meaningful, no matter your political persuasion

[Anonymous No.11202909]

>>11201355
Never liked this style, but this one's got something going. So much substitution makes it kind of clunky. Not really an easy passage down the gullet you know, but I guess we're all intentional now.
>>11201466
For as serious and good as this is
>Me me!
Even if it's unintentional, still you know. Wasn't necessary to begin with. I feel like it's ironic that you capitalize black if I understand the message of the poem right.

Doubling up tonight:

It’s a yellow mirror, a yellow man
The plan - the ran has-beens of comfort
Break down - the it, break it in, break it all
That’s what’s said anyways - a yellow man
A yellow handsome bastard god damn
How is it that grey man says what he says
How is it She doesn’t look, doesn’t
How become how does the world look this way
Not that She matters, not that I’d say anything
Yeah, uh huh Oh Jackson sayer, mhm

Look at you, mirror man, look hair, look nose high tall overture
As if - bastard, grey I am the bottle cap collector, understand
I am unheard, I am not She, not Him, not me, I am unfuckingbound
But I am stupid, I am tame, I am willing to work and will will it nothing
Tame work stupid bound like the desk, like the wall, like the blue monitor yellow man light

I will write and cut through the canyons
Rendezvous with boy down in them
Correct his spelling and she a whore
Hippy irony, hippy stupid thick fat

Collect the pines for a home
For here and forever more
A son a work a Dad a mom
Like the yellow and the grey

[Anonymous No.11203173]

The useless drag of another day
The endless drags of a death rock boy
Mascara sure and lipstick lost
Glitter burned by restless thoughts of being forgotten
And in your sad machines
You'll forever stay
Desperate and displeased with whoever you are
And you're a star
Somewhere he pulls his hair down over a frowning smile
A hidden diamond you cannot find
A secret star that cannot shine over to you
May the king of gloom, be forever doomed
And in your sad machines
You'll forever stay
Burning up in speed
Lost inside the dreams, of teen machines
The useless drags, the empty days
The lonely towers of long mistakes
To forgotten faces and faded loves
Sitting still was never enough
And if you're giving in, then you're giving up
'Cause in your sad machines
You'll forever stay
Burning up in speed
Lost inside the dreams, of teen machines

[Anonymous No.11203266]

I posted this in another thread, but I've changed it around a bit now. Thoughts?

On the coast of Ionia, half a league from Notion,
There – within her temple – sits the Oracle,
And she – though away across the Aegean,
Has reached the Morning Star with her call.
His beloved’s eyes flow with burning tears,
And so three times Her cheeks are damp.
From his lips: “57 days, and 57 here.”
But what more is this beacon, but a dim lamp…
Zeus looks on abhorrent, and endeavours
To cast away Ceyx and his Trachinian vessel.
Around the hull a raging serpent is untethered,
Yellows, black, and ivory: leviathanic pestles.
The ship is torn asunder, and now at Winter’s scorn,
A faint wind breaths: “Alycone, Alycone, Alycone.”

[Anonymous No.11203320]

>>11189409
This dumb motherfucker again...walks in like he owns the joint...I don't give a fuck if you're Shalondalyn's cousin, you damn sure better not be stealing my donuts...and his friend too...with that bugged out eye...looks like somebody put it out...didn't ask him to shut up, fuckin' told him to...yeah, yeah, smiles...pay in change...candy hustlers...fucking sad...back to the crib...yak yak yak...swear to God, last thing that kid needs is another Reese's...brought the family once...not his kid, probably...tries to make out like he's legit...talk about trying too hard...hear that shit all the time...leaving your house is trying too hard...you're not fooling anybody...heard he was desperate to get a job at a gas station...dying to work at a gas station...I've lowered my expectations in life, and this ain't exactly my grail...just wants to kick it...stick around...no aspirations...hard pill to swallow...I'm used to people making an effort, even a small one...hard to digest this complete and utter lack of motivation...

[Anonymous No.11203399]

>>11199613

I like it too and it's definitely underrated.
It needs polishing, of course, but

>try-hard vibe

is the exact opposite of the truth. Its tone is relaxed rather than pretentiously striving for effect like almost everything else in the thread. Personally I would write it like this, but that's me trying to be me rather than anon being anon. We would probably head off in very different directions:

There are times when I know God is laughing at me. Not with me; at me. I know it for certain. Just yesterday, I opened a fresh box of cookies bought from the grocer only days previously. Suspecting nothing I grabbed it from my cabinet and opened it and saw that He had eaten three.

Three. That's an entire serving.

That very same day, I noticed my milk gallon was short eight (8) fluid oz. That's another serving!

Now, how else could those pristine packages have been despoiled, without it being God? Or Santa Claus, of course. Perhaps I have been naughty?

Or perhaps it's both God and Santa Claus? God responsible for the cookies, say, and Santa Claus for the milk, or alternatively, Santa Claus responsible for the milk, and God for the cookies?

It now appears that my problem is much worse than I first imagined, but this may not be the case. Perhaps I can pit them against one another...

[Anonymous No.11203486]

>>11203399
WHERE'S YOUR POEM CUNT

[Anonymous No.11203689]

>>11203173
It's melancholy is too drawn out pitying, too many common turns of phrase:
'lost inside the dreams..'
'forgotten faces...faded loves'
'being forgotten...'
'empty days...'
It's like, we get the message, this needs brevity, even with its dreamy tone it just goes on and on.....and unironically sends us to sleep. Not to be mean anon, there's clear earnestness in this work but it needs tidying for peeps to feel it how you want it felt, yunno?
>>11202909
So for this yellow=death right? And this is about the soulless work 'life' in offices? Either way you've expressed well, and your tone led me on without getting bored, I'm always a fan of profanities uses sparingly for max effect. Good work.
>>11201355
Not enough flair for the form! It's all stated so plainly without much personality behind the words, the texture and choice of words are dry and 'clinical' and the 'what am I to do?' feels too formal for the fairly informal tone I'm getting. Could definitely be a lot better anon, I believe in you.

Posting:
I'm a strobe!

I'm disfigured!
I slide off walls!
In room
vacuums of pulse and poise.

I think the music fancies me,
it finds my frills,
I'm so unstuck -
and stop.
Stare off.

Then lift again.

Fuck man I can't not love my friends.

Each moment flits green white blue
epilepsy.
Shooting
space
and I into
whirring
strumming
my muscles' lute:
please loud machine,
unmechanise me,
oil these joints and
sodomise me.

I'll strut up pure pangs like fists
Or sex,
and
speaking of, they're options here:
but, does the minx's glint
hint a relaxing orifice?
Or reflect light shows?
This our shit show, this full farce of
limbo bongo.
I'd go ask but my flask's full.
Ok I'll go and gulp a few.
And ah she's gone, oh well, new song!
I recognise this one, when I was young
so very young...

Ah yes!
Everyone sings along!

Come ground accommodate us now,
we sycophants for tickled youth.
Recalling our culling, cool and such
unlikely collection.

Yes if you want life,
then get some friends,
a half handful will do.
You want to lull and lie?
They'll have that too,
piped next to you.

In Arcades of Disfigurement,
and love tunnels of noise,
some rowdy random
fuckers have no tact.
We can't have that,
someone snap that!

How old am I?

No one knows in respons-disability,
sound blooms nonsense and this our
shining slither's age for so!

[Anonymous No.11203724]

>>11201101
^^^
Adding a bit more critique onto my post, first stanza is great, but you digress without returning to the original point. If this is a poem about writing, keep it about writing, we don't need you life story! Kidding, but I get the urge to splurge a focused idea to other things (which can work for certain poems), but I think this would work better if you stuck to the subject and kept the humour going - however you see fit.
This is a poem on a similar subject I found funny, by Ethan Coen.

[Anonymous No.11203852]

>>11203724
Thanks. That poem is great, its obsessive quality really adds to the humour. I think you've picked up on the fact that everything emanates out from that first stanza- I wanted the piece to be a series of grammatical and metrical variations on the very first line, but my attention is scattershot at times so when I write in lyrical verse the content and images become quite unpredictable (and not necessarily true, although I was an occasionally incontenent child). I focused less on the relation between the individual images as the poem progresses, than the transformation from action verb to adjective that occurs within a single line. It's a process of materialisation (excretion?) that just screams to be thematically explored through poop jokes, so I apologise for the verbal diarrhoea

[Anonymous No.11204278]

The lyrics of the song remind me
Of a dream I had which reminded
Me in turn of a scene we’ve had
Before we talked and we knew each other some

The rights and wrongs of lights
In the streets and in the aisle
Tell me I should look for an answer
Or otherwise I will die, die without and answer

While talking is so hard and the
World remains a bitch the insides of my body tell me
what is what and which is which
and will rot if I don’t speak

I meet a damsel on the street and
Ask her most politely with my voice
What makes your heart skip a beat
Who boils your blood till all is noise
If the world was to end today and
Birds still sang and you were here
Who will you go to, who will it be
because it better be somebody

To tell a stranger, a man like me
Is no match for telling him who it will be
But she, obviously distressed, says
Nothing and is in general a voiceless charm
But a charm nonetheless

And I begin to think in fear I’d met
A soulless body in the shadow of a church
So I seize her and we swing
With the pleasure that exists between
The ordering of a meal and
not having the cash to pay the bill

Before we’d notice they’d give us three straws
One for you and me and the last one
Not the third man or anything
Just the last straw

I’d like to live she said and I thought
and it came to my attention I never heard
Somebody speak so plainly
And I never heard the phrase outside TV
And it occurred to me
she’d never be that fond of me
If we keep standing on that street
And because I’d rather die than live alone
I brought her in and poured her tea

I introduce you to the you of my dreams
My mother said your pretty and well-mannered
In the course of an absurdist fantastical diary entry
That no one will read for at least half a century

And you ask most nimbly an important cause
How come I have dreamt you if the meeting that we had
Was the first one and one only, I could not understand
Her question at first hearing and asked for repetition
But none came as it is the case with all the events in the world

Those are the things that make me stay in bed
Smoking a cigarette until ten when I wake
And decide to face whatever’s outside
At that time of day it depends because it might be
The shadow of a church or a damsel in distress

[Anonymous No.11204385]

Anyone better versed in Homeric poetry, or any dactylic hexameter, should help me out.

I'm not sure if I understand what counts as "long" or "short" syllables, but if you could help, that'd be great. This is just an exercise by the way.