/crit/

[Anonymous No.15857654]

Critique the work of others and post your own.

[Anonymous No.15857667]

>>15857654
That's a big glass

[Anonymous No.15857672]

>>15857667
for you

[Anonymous No.15857738]

>For Snyder


The wind was blowing through the trees today;
The sound is a green reminder, a dream.

As it whistled through the leaves,
That rippled, and those which fell
Fell flat upon the ground,
I carved a picture of you in the wind-
All wisp hair and fog lips.

I dragged my hand along the underside of a cloud,
I raised my hand high enough to stroke your face.
How sweet that face was! How it took your place
For a second, and faded back into the world,
As you have. How silent that face was,
That did not blow, or gust.

A sky content with quietness,
delightful mother of mine.

Maybe there is nothing to it but that;
I have been myself for long enough
To be ready to be everything forever.

Here for a second, we are clouds-
Our forms fragile, our power slight, and yet
With every fibre of our beings,
We hold ourselves together.

We are the breezes giving a moment’s relief before death-
The light pleasures of this world that exist for a second, and never again-
Before death, and then, nothing but the cool wind.

And if, on a burning August evening
You are crying, and you look
Up towards the Sun, to see that it has been replaced by clouds,
And find that there is rain,
Then you will know,
As I have known,
What it means to be everything.
Then you will know,
As I have known,
What it feels like to be God.

[Anonymous No.15857865]

Alchemical Love

How to turn this leaden longing
To warm, glittering gold?
How to find that love again
Before I die, bitter and old?

It began an immoveable solid
Through force no progress found
Melted down to sobbing sea
In which I nearly drowned

Laser focus turned sea to steam
Cloying and inescapable
Knowledge exhausted, hear I lie
Prostrate and incapable

The damned seek absolution
Probing person, poem and book
But this essentialism immutable
To the grave this feeling I took

[Anonymous No.15857879]

>>15857738
>>15857865
I like your work. Contact fourlitreview at yandex dot com if you have a huge pulsing member betwixt your legs.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.15858148]

>>15857865

I like it but it feels like it’s missing a center piece, main image or a strong Enough concept to center it all around.

I understand the feeling you’re talking about but I feel like you haven’t elaborated enough on it.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.15858154]

Bent and torn and twisted, Monsters melancholy
I have no purpose here, I do not belong here
Everything is now clear, i dwell in the great fear
Light only reveals dark, striving and rest are Folly
Linji or Plotinus, Even patanjali
My illusions are gone, everything disappears
Emptiness is not rest, hidden forbidden spheres
Flesh mangled to cover, hollow hole of Eli

My soul was like a star, dark is the inmost part
A spirit of the air, now bound to the dark Sea
Lost what was never had, Anguish is being Free
No I and no thou remain, the Sphere is apparent
Sit but do not forget, The Void is your own Heart
Birth or upon your death, Hidden light Aberrant

Look upon the aberrant Light, the light of the void, it is not black and it is not white, it does not full but it drains and pulls. Look upon the aberrant light and your Face becomes its mask.

[Anonymous No.15859753]

>>15858154
this doesn't feel like a poem, man. it feels like a string of words with tenuous connection and occasional rhyme, sure, but I can evoke no feeling from this. read more of the romantics, and read w.h auden, and read theodore roethke.

[Anonymous No.15860966]

Wondering where I should go next in my piece? I know some of the language needs to be tightened up.

>>15857738
Some of the flow of this works well and reminds me of Neruda's sweetest poems. However, you spend too much time on the wind and in the sky. In the third stanza, the exclamation "How sweet that face was!" might be a bit too much--I'm not necessarily sure it's needed or worked to enough. Similarly, I find the last three stanzas heavy-handed. The blending of the clouds with the speaker and the other person should come through without it being stated. Basically, I think you need more tactile imagery centered at the ground-level focused more on the one the speaker addresses.

>>15857865
It's all very abstract and doesn't work well with the rhyme scheme because of it. The second stanza in particular is quite awkward in terms of the changing states you're trying to do. The move from "through force" to "no progress found" and then onto the third line in that stanza is doing a big leap for us as the reader. We need to see the stagnation and/or hear it. Same thing can be said for the rest of the poem, too. "Laser focus" and "Prostrate and incapable" aren't strong enough to feel the failure.

>>15858154
Notice that your second line is stronger than your first, but even then, the poem is overwrought. Most of the language you're using along with the dichotomies you're exploring are old ground that isn't made new here.

[Anonymous No.15861157]

>>15857865
That first is stanza is amazing, anon.

[Anonymous No.15861447]

North shore anon here
Hope you guys like it

Slow as it moved it became immune to the hold of time
It chugged onward towards a unique and personal forever
Against the grey and pink sky of the shore it seemed luminous
But it’s dark windows full of invisible ghosts, looked bleak
What conductor steered this steel ship on land
What destination did it pursue far beyond my sight
It moved north like a bird in the latest days of the winter
To a forbidden land of wood and stones, old as god
There is nothing there, nothing for men to build or do
Beyond the tracks of civilization lay the lands of the forgotten
The lights of the city’s could not hide the stars here
The sounds of life could not drown the sounds of reality
Here the material world could not touch its past self
Only look back and dream about days when nothing ever Changed
But I thought, perhaps, the train of ghosts is not lost
They ride upon tracks no living person can ride
Only the dead can look back on the world as it was
The ghosts in the window, far beyond the tracks
Who, sit silent, and wait to arrive back where it all began

[Anonymous No.15862261]

>>15858148
>>15860966
>>15861157
Thanks

[Q No.15862434]

This is a poem I wrote I’m still super wonky with the mechanics of the grammer though

[Anonymous No.15863486]

For all the intimidation which he bore in his wide shoulders, dense muscles, and tall stature, she felt distinctly drawn to him; not as two young lovers might be, but as two children who each thought themselves alone at a park might look curiously upon one another, and look to see who might speak first.

[Anonymous No.15863564]

Oh what a malady
Hunted by fools
Morality chained by strangers
Infatuated with a noose
Oh what to give for an opportunity to choose
But those experienced in these things, say it's no use


A boost I could use
My madness a malady
I could cure if I so choose
Deny my pain, an errand of fools
My closest fears I'll take a noose
I'm far to shy to expose my rotted self to strangers


My dreams soon feasted on by strangers
Perhaps for them, they'll find a use
Restless stalking, a wolf in a noose
Free milady from her malady
What did I trade for this gold of fools?
Was I aware and did I even choose?


Poison seems an opportune thing to choose
But to this choice I'm no stranger
Those who emerge know it's the choice of fools
Eternal illness, no cure no use
Pray you never treat yourself to such a malady!
Though I'd pick neither, preferable's the noose.


Enough blather about the noose
Blurred brain believes it my only choice to choose
It's not mine but their malady
I refuse to be swayed by strangers
Whose souls are made of refuse
Why attach myself to the poison that comes from fools?


Nobody judges themselves greater than fools
Who shout out their dogma, then cling to the noose
So many better ways to put their time to use
Perhaps weak minds lack the capability to choose
To their own souls they are a stranger
Insufferable idiocy a rampant malady


These fools, they are a malady
Strangers who think they can handle a noose
While I still hold it's no use, someone should tell them they can still choose

[Anonymous No.15863596]

Tersa Sphinx pt 1

A brilliant nest of riddles indeed
Your name remains true
When I spotted you perched
On my apartment door
I was unsure what to think
Sphinx yes
That is what you are

Your timing was swell
As my bloated belly
As I had just prayed to
The god of moths
Who told me to follow the moon

Between you and I
That's his answer to everything
But then he gave a real answer
You

A shiny abstraction
Of a request deferred
A symbol to be devoured
By tomorrow's spider

You waited patiently for hours
Until I arrived
And even the sickly outside light
Deterred you not
You had a message to deliver
Even if it meant
Delaying your inevitable
Self immolation
On some humble campground

I touched your wing
And still you stood your ground
Determined to advise
That you were less a thing of nature
And more the world's strangest familiar

Rather than invite you in
I uttered out a weak thank you
Returned to my business
Your message squandered
Not on deaf ears, but something worse
A deaf mind
Locked in a kind of rigid, complacent hell

[Anonymous No.15863603]

>>15863596

Pt 2

You gave the message I asked for
and in return I ignored you
You gave your life to tell me something
I already knew
But wouldn't change
Like old pharaoh,
I deny miracles
As they erupt around me
Like loud angry crickets
More obvious than
The sun itself

The day after I blamed the god of moths
For the spider web erasing it all
Stuffed my lunch down my face
Re-repeating my status quo
I mocked my faux miracle just so

Listen to the exact same station from the radio
Drove the same route
Lied to myself
Said why today was different as I
Drank the same coffee
From the very same cup
Prayed to the god of unlearning

Stared at the wall half dazed
Half yearning
He probably won't bother with another messenger
Which is half a shame
Half of me will accept his words like a fanatic
While the other half begs me to be grounded
But a grounded moth won't fly
Neither will I

It's a thing to accept
Mr spider, devourer of miracles
Thank you for your lesson
The druids bang their heads on the oaks as I say this

Understand,
Even if I acted on your message
Fruit would not bloom
If I tried to reopen that long dead door
To the old ways
We would find the spirits calling to us
But so what?
What do we do?
Flee everything?
There's nowhere left to flee!
We flee the death and iron to find more
Death, more iron,
More wires, Not a piece of moss to be found
Just chained blobs of fat choking on their own essence

The moon was the eye
Of a beast
In the sky
He stared me down
no guilt nor humility
It held the essence of joy
In cruelty

To dance with the old ways
Is to dance the Totentanz
Appreciate your song, I do
But I swallowed my pride long ago
I've accepted these walls as reality
Trees and air as fantasy
Cabin fever necessity
Liberation unnecessary
Broken spirits the par
Homogenization of our cares
The putting on of airs
Gonna need that if you're gonna go far
So the dance of death is all that's left
An uncomfortable silence
Retreat to your signs

[Anonymous No.15863629]

Why do some people hate having any rhyme in poems

[Anonymous No.15863640]

>>15863629

I don't hate it but I tend to avoid it because for me it gets a little sing songy

[Anonymous No.15863648]

>>15863596
Is there any meter to this?

[Anonymous No.15864020]

>>15863648

This one no, though the one I posted before is a sestina. (Mostly)

[Anonymous No.15864849]

>>15860966
Love the second paragraph. Would maybe break up the longest sentence in the first paragraph, it feels a bit tiring by the end of it.

-----

Just the first part of a scene I'm working on:

Bill’s basement was thoroughly air-conditioned. They sat in front of the expansive Vizio flatscreen, a white canvas with pulsing squares in rows across it – HBO Go, Netflix, Hulu, YouTube. Past their windows the sky was a bowl of smog. Grainy bark dust blanketed Seattle’s airways, drifting down from the B.C. forest fires, burning wood debris clotting in their orifices when they stepped outside.

“This remote is just broken,” Bill said. “It doesn’t work. Well, I’m just sorry. We’re gonna have to watch with subtitles. I can’t get rid of the subtitles.”

“That’s fine,” Tristan said. “Do we have any snacks here though.”

Bill stabbed at the remote buttons with his index finger. “Well now are you actually hungry or do you just want to eat.”

“Actually hungry.”

“But think about it,” Bill said. “Think about that feeling of hunger. Is it hard to bear? Or can you just sit with it for a while? Notice the feelings that arise in your consciousness and try to practice mindfulness, try to say, ‘hey, what does that feel like?’”

“Alright jeez,” Tristan mumbled.

Bill booped between the TV’s squares with the remote. “Don’t go ‘jeez.’ There’s no need for you to be saying ‘jeez.’”

Tristan squinted out the window above Bill’s head, looking up into the bushes of the front yard. A skinny pigeon was bobbing its head against the glass. The pigeon’s feathers were discolored in blotches across its wing, and its eye was leaking some kind of fluid. It finished bobbing and stood there hunched, its breathing labored, wreathed in smog. It hobbled away.

[Anonymous No.15865170]

I gone and done this https://docs.google.com/document/d/19XS5CnlT2wcf2UMbigW_Ph0YDdlVQOsjl2SAn70R5gA/edit?usp=sharing

[Anonymous No.15865896]

Story plot, what do you think?

> main character is a narwhal and she thinks her life is terrible
> the sea turtle invites her to lunch to eat jellyfish
> it's not jellyfish. It's a plastic bag. Sea turtle gets a stomach ache
> narwhal mc goes to her sea cave for a nap
> boyfriend narwhal comes by
> he says that their home, the ocean, is getting too hot, and he's going to look for a new home in the river because rivers are cold, much better for whales
> mc says that while it's true, the ocean is hot and the river is cold, the river is also dangerous because it freezes easily, and if the river freezes, he'll be trapped
> boyfriend narwhal goes to river anyway. He comforts mc by telling her that he'll meet her at her family reunion party next week
> a week later, mc heads to the family reunion
> on the way, a frat boy narwhal invites her to a party. He says there's going to be this great loud music
> mc follows him, and there is music
> the music is actually sonar. All the narwhals get disoriented and beach themselves
> A seal saves her at the last minute, and drags mc back into the ocean
> The seal was immune to the sonar because it was wearing soundproof earmuffs
> The seal knows a shortcut to the family reunion party, it's a path underneath an iceberg
> they go underneath iceberg, taking breaths every couple of meters
> mc hears steps above ice and stops, but the seal continues, unaware of the danger because it's wearing earmuffs
> seal takes a breath above the ice and gets scooped up by a polar bear
> mc makes it to the family reunion. Her mom is holding her newborn calf, mc's little brother
> mc says that she can't go to the party yet, her boyfriend is her date and he hasn't arrived yet
> mom shrugs and goes off to the party
> several hours later
> boyfriend narwhal still hasn't arrived. mc goes to party by herself
> when she gets to the party, she sees a pack of orcas
> they've already eaten her family
> mc goes to river to look for boyfriend
> mouth of river is completely frozen. Her boyfriend most likely had been trapped in and starved
> mc goes back to her cave
> someone built an oil rig over it, there's black oil leaking everywhere
> mc is depressed, but she resolves to continue living life, even with the tragic loss of all her friends and family
> she brave swims into the ocean

> epilogue: an orca eats her

[Anonymous No.15865936]

I quickly wrote pic-related. Not really sure where I'm going with it or if it could be part of something longer.

>>15865170
I liked it, especially the Bus and Video Rental sections. I just noticed some awkward tense-related stuff: "I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight" should probably be "I won't be able to sleep tonight." "On the way home a bum in a filthy mechanic's jumpsuit sleeps next to a dumpster" could be "On the way home I pass a bum in a filthy mechanic's jumpsuit asleep next to a dumpster". There are a few others as well.

>>15864849
I really like the dialogue, reminds me of White Noise. What's the overall story line?

>>15860966
Maybe you could add in a specific instance of someone coming into the town to break up the flow. Between the second and third paragraph maybe. Something like the narrators friend comes into town and stays with him and the fountain changes the way he thinks about things or lives his life or something?

[Anonymous No.15866087]

>>15857654
For context, Neil deGrasse Tyson was wishing white people never existed in some post on Twitter, /lit/ was discussing him, and so I wrote him a little story about an alternate reality where his ancestors were never brought to America.

The year is 2020.
Neil deGrasse Tyson, or as he is now known in this reality, Mubaru Ungaloch, is son to tribal warlords in the plains of the Serengeti.
Mubaru begins his day by drinking from the fountain of outpouring blood from the lacerated throat of his enemy, and thanking the spirits of his ancestors and that of Ogbo, the patron deity of the Poopoo people, for the blessing of this meal and offering the lifeless carcass of his once rival in sacrifice. He begins his journey back toward his village with his Marula branch totem staff in hand and ponders upon whom next must be released from this mortal coil when the hunger returns; picking up any small insect he finds along the way to feed his 12 children whom eagerly await his return.
Just as he was about to make a paltry snack of a beetle a plane soars by, off in the distant horizon, a sight well out of place for the tribal Mubaru – who extends his staff to the sky and prays for its magical protection. Neither Mubaru, his people, nor that of the whole black population of Africa has ever seen the world outside of their continent.
Europe is currently more of a technological powerhouse than anyone has ever imagined. Having developed over the centuries without interfered in Africa has proved to be the wisest decision they had ever made. Without the competitive pressures of colonization, they have lived in relative peace and prosperity and no great wars have been fought between them in centuries. They have come together in common unity and objectives for the advancement of the European people, and have left the continent of Africa to its fate, now the only colonies they form are the stars.
To Mubaru, these stars only represent the spirits of his ancestors – the reverence of which coats the walls in assortments of stickfigures outlined with feces upon the mud and sticks he and his 12 children reside.

Mubaru's children greet him with eagerness, Obo, Doodoo, Dindu, and even the youngest, little Treyvon are the first to form up with their heads perched up and awaiting the alternate reality Neil deGrasse Tyson to put the bugs into their mouths. After all has been fed to some degree of satisfaction, it is time for the matured prince of the Poopoo people to bathe each of his children in the traditional method of their proud and noble people.

[Anonymous No.15866093]

>>15857654
>>15866087
They all line up, shoulder to bony shoulder, each nearly nude to completion save for an individual cloth diaper, and prepare for their monthly bath with their ribs protruding from malnourishment and starvation. Neil steps between each one, urinating on all of their faces as they giggle and laugh and rinse their hair in his putrid piss. Occasionally opening their mouths to drink from his salty golden nectar since drinking anything at all is a luxury in their humble tribal village.

Mubaru’s wife, Ungala(also known as Jemima), sat cross-legged with a satisfied smile across her face as the sounds of her delighted children echoed through the small dirt dome in which they dwelled. She was busying herself that day scraping up the mud from the ground and caking it together within her palms before setting them down to dry in a neat pattern around her. These ‘cookies’ were the traditional recipe and culinary favorite of the proud and noble Poopoo people, and consisted the vast majority of all their meals. Naïve enthusiastic little Treyvon ran up to his mother in hopes of receiving one after having not eaten in days, but these cookies were the rations of the slaves which were owned by their family.

Mubaru would take some of them and go out to the small dirt barn wherein they were kept and toss them to the floor. For either fear of the consequences or out of lack of strength, not a one moved so much as an inch, their deadened eyes fixated on that form of their deified tormentor before being enclosed in darkness once again. Wondering all the while why they were slaves at all in a village which has not yet discovered agriculture and still remains fixed in a hunter-gatherer lifestyle.

[Anonymous No.15866150]

Blog post about avoiding e-personalities.

https://thecharlieborchardblog.wordpress.com/2020/07/14/my-anti-online-e-personality-guide/

[Anonymous No.15866171]

>>15864849
Sounds like the start of a science fiction novel

[Anonymous No.15866190]

>>15866087
I enjoyed this thoroughly

[Anonymous No.15866209]

“How’s the racist study going?”
“It’s not racist. It is something you couldn’t understand. No, in fact that’s what it’s all about. When someone is being racist without understanding it, that’s the key thing.”
“Sounds like a bunch of nonsense,” Joe said.
“Internalized racism is a real thing,” Jessica said, sticking up for John, “It’s about how the relationship between a white person and a black person is inherently poisoned and toxic, unless proper acknowledgements are made.”
“And what are those acknowledgements?” Joe asked.
“The inherent drive of a white person to dominate and take advantage of every minority,” Tyler said.
“Maybe that’s true,” Joe said.
“Yeah, I guess it is,” mimed John. He looked off into the distance for a second and got up, “let me go towel my hair, we’ve gotta get going in a minute.”
John went upstairs.
“Let’s kill this fast,” Tyler said, lighting up the rest of the joint.
He took several quick hits and held it in, his face turned red, his jaws clenched, and a cacophony of coughing finally let up. Joe took the burning cinder from his hand and took a staccato of hits, blowing a little out after each hit. His eyes became red and irritated and he passed it to Amber.
John hopped down the stairs and motioned to hit the joint. By this time it was smoldering down to the filter, wet with resin and the mouthpiece had been soggied by the frantic mouths of everyone else in the room. He took a few hits and dropped it into an empty can.
“Let’s get going. I don’t want to have to pay for parking.”
The Mazda Miata was blue with a gold bezel lining the sides beneath the door. Joe always marveled at how it had been lowered to the ground. Anytime John reached a speed bump he had to cross it diagonally, a wheel at a time, so that it wouldn’t scrape the bottom of the car. It was absurd to sacrifice such a practicality for the sake of automotive aesthetics. The table in his living room was a disgrace. He would sit and eat his meals on that piece of plaster every day, yet he had the incentive to spend thousands of dollars on some bolts or carburetor or some such to keep this little car humming and beautiful. It was almost to say to the world, that he would go broke and blind before he would sacrifice this little machine, that a trifle like this rises to the top of his life’s ambition, and becomes the ultimate triumph of all of his passions.

[Anonymous No.15866266]

>>15857654
moot looks so happy and successful now

[Anonymous No.15866599]

>>15866087
Kek, this is pretty good. Like that Stonetoss comic about black people culturally appropriating white culture and achievements. Maybe add in stuff about peanut butter

[Anonymous No.15866812]

To the pathetic loser who keeps posting the group email in these threads, it doesn't even matter because we have a pleb filter in place. You haven't affected the group one iota.

Also, rent free.

Enjoy being a bitter faggot who can't write.

[Anonymous No.15867162]

>>15866266
yeah and all of us have to suffer for it filling in recaptcha every time we say anything like good golem.
fuck moot and fuck chinkmoot

[Anonymous No.15867206]

>>15867162
(((smeagol))))

[Anonymous No.15867323]

Is it okay for my 'main protagonist' to only enter the story around the 35-40% mark?

How I have wrote it so far, the first part is the story is of how a princess let her kingdom fall into ruin, and the knock on effects it has had.
She is also a protagonist, but just not the main one.

Should I just rearrange the chapters, so that the MC's chapters are at the start, and the princesses story is told in 'flashbacks' and/or 'tavern tales'?

[Anonymous No.15867329]

>>15867323
That sounds interesting, as long as you don't just fall into the same tropes. Try to experiment with them.

[Anonymous No.15867475]

>>15866087
>even the youngest, little Treyvon

Fuck you for making me laugh at this

>>15865936
It's funny you mention White Noise, because that's probably the most obvious comparison I can think of for what I'm trying to do with the novel this scene is from. My book (title "The Mold Palace") follows 8 guys in their 20s living in a crappy shared house in Seattle in late 2017/early 2018, around the time MeToo was at its peak. Novel doesn't have a conventional plot per se; its structure alternates between scenes inside the house where the guys are interacting, and chapters that follow the guys individually as they go about their work/school routine. The excerpt you read is the first part of a flashback where one character, Tristan, is reminiscing about his life before he moved in to the house.

The book is gonna try to explore issues related to how these guys are reacting to MeToo and the general societal changes around them. I'm aware that "bunch of twenty-something guys living in a shared house with no real plot to speak of" is a pitch for novel that many will not find interesting. What I'm hoping to achieve is to make it interesting by really exploring both the psychology of these guys, and also examining the sense of grinding hopelessness and feeling "stuck" that so many people that age feel in countries like the U.S. today.

It's irritating to me how similar >>15866209
is to what I'm going for, particularly given that it's pretty well-written and funny.

[Anonymous No.15868696]

I'm not gay

[Anonymous No.15869104]

>>15868696
I think I might be after reading that. You eloquent bastard

[Anonymous No.15869262]

>>15868696
This is great

[Anonymous No.15869392]

>>15868696
Good, now turn that descriptive prowess to something other than what sounds like a paki

[Anonymous No.15869586]

>>15866209
This is okay but still needs work. "cacophony of coughing" feels over-wrought, especially when followed by the informal "let up". I think you need to work more on maintaining an even voice throughout. Just something that will come with practice.

>>15868696
You again. You can have delicious prose, but if you still haven't finished that short story it's never going to be published anywhere. Be more disciplined with your writing and stop getting posting in here every time you need maturbation. You're a great writer, there you go. But it means nothing if you don't maintain a good work ethic.

>>15867323
Start in media res, the MC should be present from the outset. Too much backstory and exposition will annihilate your narrative. Not everything has to be revealed, and that which is revealed can be done slowly, through implication and subtext.

>>15865936
I like this concept, just tidy up a bit. Semicolon in first sentence or else cut it in two, "deep" instead of "dark deep", "illusory" instead of "illusionary", one "deeper" in the final line.

[Anonymous No.15869899]

>>15865896
I love this but the nihilism isn’t grounded enough, everything bad happening ever isn’t broad enough of a way to frame raw nature, that’s too far onto one side and not enough of both. Emphasize the sentimentalities with this and don’t make the darkness overly explicit in each and every instance.

Also I want to see more about the seal and the sea turtle.
>>15864849
The way this covers two separate focuses like this is neat, it’s hard to say what exactly would benefit this though with the amount of context this has.

>>15866209
The car needing special attention to navigate the speed bumps ties nicely with the opening wokeness pastiche, as does the not wanting to be rid of the car. I think that the dialog they have could be better, depending on whether you wanted to have it be more realistic and less stereotypical SJW or if you wanted it to be more explicitly a parody, although if you choose the latter then it would work best if it came off less of an angled criticism and more like a rag on the state of the world in a general sense (not saying to create a false neutral but you’d be more successful conveying the pitfalls you want to convey of a side if you show all the other sides as well).

Hard to tell what the context is just based on this excerpt but it’s cool how it goes over such a wide range of subjects, I think it could be condensed in some places though, particularly with the weed smoking and a few lines of the dialog.
>>15869392
Kek

[Anonymous No.15870372]

>>15868696
I know others have already said this is good, if a little short, but I just wanted to add this has a really nice cadence. It feels pretty to read, if that makes sense. Sing-song.

[Anonymous No.15870510]

>>15869899
Can you explain the nihilism thing for small brained people

[Anonymous No.15870998]

Zipped up, flicked like a little rock
Bird’s eye, rounding every subject like a fly
Each stiff monolith off to the side distract,
Distracting like a wicked shadow black cat,
Damned bitch of a thumbtack, spiderwebbed to the forehead

What holds is the permanence, but
What is this burning?
Is there any floundering that keeps on forming?
Any rise or swell that the corners of the room don’t keep poking the side of?
Every living shell, only moving shapes,
Each buzzing pattern against the skin separates it with a blade
Each kaleidoscope of sound renege what capitulates
Falling back down into a hole again
Jerking rigid and back up out of a much needed bed


This sick, sick grin
Looking like a dog in heat
A breath exhaled that shivers sideways
Building a house on top of a swamp

[Anonymous No.15871060]

>>15870998
Critique the last few posts

[Anonymous No.15871222]

Why is there so much poetry? I've never seen so much of it on a critique thread before

[Anonymous No.15871981]

>>15871060
Okay, cunty
>>15867323
That could be interesting possibly but for it to be an optimal approach would be challenging, like >>15869586 says I think it could work with maybe in media res or use some kind of device, something nonlinear maybe, can’t say honestly up to you. But have your main character in some capacity not be some unknown figure that shows up out of nowhere, unless exactly this is what you’re going for.
>>15866087
Funny jokes and haha and stuff, but if you want something scathing or broad then maybe create parallels between the fantastical and intentionally stereotypical perspectives of this alternate universe Nell Deadgrass Twinesum with an intentionally nuanced and realistic deprivation of what an (actually) oppressed modern day lower-class black person in America could be like. Or possibly make this alternate world Veal Digress Bison less stereotyped and more nuanced/sympathetic and parallel this to a white western person whose life is encroached by a politicized world (it would be important to make them sympathetic as well so avoid taking satirical liberties with them or making them overly opinionated Mary Sues or something).
Doing something like these gives this more shape, makes it more than just pointing fingers for the sake of pointing fingers. Funny jokes are funny and all but explore the reasons behind the need to satirize a group of people for the sake of satirization and this is an entire another well to tap. Or if you want to better critique this group of people, have it anchored to something else that won’t limit it to being overly one sided.
>>15865936
I like that concept. What else can be gathered from this.

And in addition to >>15870510, for >>15864849 / >>15867475 I think I’d you’re going to go into that kind of ““#metoo era”” territory then you need to be careful to not make it too much of something that reads like an excuse for the author to just ramble about their own opinions; based on the excerpt I don’t necessarily see this happening but like I said it was kind of hard to tell what the style was like. If you want to go for something modern in this sense and millennial bullshit then definitely emphasize kafkaesque elements that the metoo and identity/gender politics stuff can invoke and go on a lot about consoomer shit like you were doing (but don’t be too on the nose either, find either an iceberg approach for this or maybe create some fictional brands, or picture a concept of something we don’t even have yet that would fit with this). From your except though I see an element of the mc being given instruction, that fits with the element of feeling controlled by the social climate and other people. Having elements like this or other ways of feeling subjugated being present with this is good, just be sure to not make the mc too sympathetic or overly perfect.
>>15865170
It’s not letting me read this

[Anonymous No.15871992]

>>15870510
You shouldn’t assume I’m also not small brained, but I don’t want you to feel bad and I’ll help you out in spite of you’re lack of knowledge.
You have a cool sequence of events that there seems to be a passion behind or able to be received from, but everybody dying doesn’t do much good. Meaninglessness is a given as far as ideas go, but for an interesting story like the one you have it really needs something broader than just the one thing. You can have the grim depressing darks where appropriate but for a lot of them just having the suggestion of them can be an effective way of conveying them, and in respect to that you can have some uplifting moments as well (which for your story specifically it would really benefit from). I think also focusing on the characters with your story would work for it, the story begs for something the reader to latch onto with their emotion, and for the worst ending to happen each and every time isn’t effective in allowing for that.

[Anonymous No.15872007]

Fuck where I linked >>15870510 in >>15871981 I had meant to link >>15869899

[Anonymous No.15872051]

>>15868696
this reads pleasantly well, maybe needs some formatting though
>>15867323
I think it's fine as long as the princess part is an actual story and not just a world building device. Like, something must be happning to her/ she must be doing something and then your protagonists enters the picture and we just shift perspective.

Here's something, I haven't been writing for a while:


To grab a flimsy wrist,
and break it in a motion:
a dance of pain and love,
we exchanged a primal glare.
The faces of two lovers,
the note of an expression
and smiles would flourish, followed by a jab to the underside of the jaw.
Stomping on a thin waist, the moans I hold so dear
would colour
with ambiguity
and poke me with an hint of fear.

[Anonymous No.15872416]

>>15871992
hmmm

[Anonymous No.15872607]

Reply to this post with a story or poem with the premise I’ve just requested

[Anonymous No.15872621]

>>15871222
because this board is full of talentless subnormals

[Anonymous No.15872634]

the tristan guy should just give it up
youre writing is fucking terrible

[Anonymous No.15872720]

>>15872621
ding ding ding

[Anonymous No.15872825]

>>15866087
Where would you even publish something like this? Content like this would get you banned off of Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Google Books, Kobo/Walmart books

[Anonymous No.15873062]

When I'm dead,
bury me in the womb of the world.
Burn me to soft ashes in the slow roasting fires of decay.
Set a stone chimney grave where my body rests.
I want to fuel those memories.
Those that steam your eyes and make them leak,
until I am nothing, again.
Nothing at all,
but an empty space in the back of your head.

[Anonymous No.15873068]

>>15871981
>I like that concept. What else can be gathered from this.
Yeah, that's what I'm having trouble with. I'm thinking of using this as a preface of sorts to a longer story with themes of disillusionment/nihilism etc. However I like how nebulous this short piece is and the idea of writing something longer which more explicitly investigates the themes seems unnecessary on one end of the scale and intimidating on the other.

>>15869586
Thanks

[Old Ma No.15873085]

[Anonymous No.15873116]

>>15857738
>The wind was blowing through the trees today;
>The sound is a green reminder, a dream.
Hording, the couplet.
>The wind blew green through the trees today,
Synesthesia, polysemy, efficiency/approaching the image directly. What's there reads like an autopsy, the images are dead. Amputate 1/5 the words. It's recoverable.

>>15860966
Prosaic.
>Tourists visiting the town every season for who knows how long come to the fountain at the city center, our one true wonder.

>>15857865
>Alchemical Adoration
Fine as is. Drop love, it's too personalizing.

>>15858154
Non-negotiable tweaks maintaining syllable count:
>monstrous melancholy
>I have no purpose here, nowhere do I belong
>dwelt
>Light reveals only dark,
...
>my illusions fall away, everything silence
>Emptiness without rest within forbidden spheres

>Black sun of my inmost part, my soul's black starlight
Similes are cringe 9/10; last resort/always question if there's an alternative.


>>15861447
NIce
>particular and solitary forever/eternity
>...pink sky on the shore was luminous
The reflections on the window and leap to the train description doesn't come off/confounding.
>But invisible ghosts on it's dark windows looked on bleakly

Opening's strong, has a New England Robinson Jeffers tone. Little cinches here and there as in the above and it's getting there.

>>15862434
Falls off the rails rhythmically on the 5th line.

>>15863596
>>15863603
>The Moon was the eye
>Of a beast in the Sky
>He stared me down
>No guilt nor humility,
>It held the essence of joy
>In Cruelty

Pretty dancey stanza for one without meter. Interesting enough as is, but the enjambments need euthanizing.

[Anonymous No.15873122]

D'un pays aussi cruel qu'elle est délicate
Fut préservée des chaleurs et de l'ignorance
La rosière sans nom à la fonction ingrate
D'accoupler à de lourds bestiaux son innocence.
Sous un regard multiple le giron nubile
Que flattent l'amant masqué et l'ami inhabile
A confié la charge isiaque au lâche podex
Pendant qu'une lueur descend du front convexe
Au larmier confondu d'horreur et de plaisir.
Mais alors qu’un délire y alla bourgeonner
Une ombre vint vers la mésalliée le cueillir :
C'était la blanche main du sauveur empâtée.

[Anonymous No.15873619]

>>15868696
>aquiline
dropped here

[Anonymous No.15873913]

>>15872634
There's nothing really to give up - I am under no illusion that my writing stands any chance of being published. I try to make what I write interesting/enjoyable to others, because there's no point in writing otherwise. But it's a hobby at the end of the day.

That said, I'm curious why you think it's terrible. I'm definitely no expert in prose fiction as an art form, but I'm interested in learning more about what specifically makes for good or bad writing.

[Anonymous No.15874026]

>>15873913
you can always self-publish

[Anonymous No.15874057]

>>15874026
That's kind of what these crit threads are in a certain sense, no? I mean no one's gonna post a whole novel here (hopefully) but there's not a huge difference between uploading your writing somewhere and saying you "published" it, and posting it here.

[Anonymous No.15874532]

>>15874057
My mom can buy my "published" works from Amazon. She isn't going to go on 4chan to read it

[Anonymous No.15875901]

self publishing more cringe that no one will buy is worse than not publishing at all

[Anonymous No.15875910]

>>15875901
I self-published a book just for the joy of seeing it bound and in print, for my own pleasure.

[Anonymous No.15876281]

>>15875910
That's nice but I'd rather spend that money on weed

[Anonymous No.15876487]

>>15875901
Someone will buy it anon. It might be only one sale a decade, but it'll happen

[Anonymous No.15877388]

>From a book about an exodus from Earth

I could see the fear in her eyes. She couldn't see me, she couldn't see what I'd done. We were lost. We were lost, and there was no way to get back.

I started to get up, and she grabbed my hand. She looked at me and said, "We'll see each other again. I love you."

"I love you too," I said.

And I fell asleep.

After I woke up, I found myself sitting in a small, bare room. There were a little table and a few chairs. I was on the floor, and a man sat behind a wooden desk.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it's a long time since we last talked, but I just want you to know that I miss you. I miss everything you've done for me."

"I know," I said.

"I know," he said. "And I'm sorry that I can't be there for you anymore."

"I know," I said. "But I know I'll always be there for you."

He sat down next to me and we talked for a while. Then he said, "You've done a lot for me. I hope I can continue to do that."

"I know," I said. "I hope I can continue to do that."

"I want you to know," he said, "that I love you."

"I know," I said. "I love you."

"I want you to know," he said, "that I'm here for you. I know that you've been through a lot, and I'm here for you."

"I know," I said.

"I want you to know," he said, "that I'm here for you. I love you."

"I love you too," I said.

And I fell asleep again.

When I woke up, I was standing on the beach. The sun was setting. I was alone. I looked out at the water and saw that I was standing in a small, empty cove.

I looked back at the man. He had just left me. I couldn't see him.

I stood there, and the sun was starting to set. I thought about what I'd done. I thought about what I'd done to him. I thought about what I'd done to the ocean. I thought about what I'd done to the world. I thought about how much I'd hurt myself. I thought about how much I'd hurt others.

[Anonymous No.15877422]

>>15857654
>>15857667
>>15857672
>people are using my cartoonishly large glass shoop

Nice. Someone make it just a tad bigger!

[Anonymous No.15877454]

Why does none of you vile pseuds write prose? You make me glad that poets tend to starve.

[Anonymous No.15877532]

>>15877454
There is literally prose in this thread you dumb nigger

[Anonymous No.15877560]

>>15873619
Why?

[Anonymous No.15877569]

>>15877388
You write like an autist. Read more romantic literature. Why have you formatted it like that? Am I meant to infer more about what is happening?

>>15872051
Unnecessarily edgy content seems juvenile. Make sure your corpus is balanced by something less teenage. I don't know why the meter changed at the end in a way that wasn't reflected in the emphasis of the words in the last three lines.

>>15870998
The first stanza is euphonic. The middle stanza needs a more consistent rhythm, unless it is meant to throw the reader off in the second half. That said I enjoy this work.

>>15865896
This is like Candide but with if everyone was sea life. Pitch it to Pixar immediately. (I assume the epilogue is a joke though, obviously she should just wander into the ocean and we don't know where she goes).

[Anonymous No.15877584]

>>15877388
This is cool, though the lack of context to this excerpt leads to a frustrating sense of wanting to know more (which I suppose is good, after all). Strong beginning and ending, though the repetitive dialogue in the middle maybe should be edited down.

-----

Not sure where I'm going with this, just tell me if it works so far:

The swirling layers of sounds. Beeping barcode scanners, infants wailing, the rattle of shopping carts. The fans whirring ceaselessly above. The scrape of cardboard boxes against paper bags, the synth beat of the Safeway playlist, songs that charted on the Billboard Hot 100 several decades ago. Sounds colliding, merging into striated waves, a foundation of compacted sound at the bottom of all this, a primary hum innate to those buildings that serve as grocery stores, apartment complexes, banks.

The sound of Hannah, at the end of the checkstand, turning her hairy chin and single thick neck roll towards Gabe and saying, “me having coffee is better for the people around me. I am caffeinated for your sakes.”

“Is that so,” Gabe said.

“My blood type is Starbucks. Well, not really. I don’t go to Starbucks very much. In fact, I don’t even go there ever.”

“Mmm,” Gabe said.

A young mother with two babbling toddlers pushed her bulging cart up to the checkstand. Gabe fed her saran-wrapped chickens, organic fruit bunches, and packs of La Croix cans through his scanner. Hannah cooed and waved to the children, too busy drooling on their shirtsleeves to care. Zephyr, on Front End Supervisor duty, paced along the row of checkstands back and forth, holding up a handhold device through which she (they? he? it was a thorny situation) could monitor the self-checkouts.

The gang was all here. There was the Old Russian Lady (O.R.L., as the cashiers called her) whose grasp of English seemed only to encompass the words “no” and “bad,” and who would pay with an EBT card that frequently bounced, requiring the cashier to make some attempt to communicate this turn of events to her, rarely successful. There was Marcus, an enormous gay black man who bought only huge boxes of Squirt soda. There was Tony the bus driver, an old hippie with a gray ponytail who let Gabe in on a little secret: Almost any King County Metro driver will let you on for just a dollar, not the 2 you’re supposed to pay. There was that woman who always bought avalanching mountains of tiny cat food tins. All of these people and more had come through Gabe’s line today. He was halfway through his shift, in the center of the merciless noon. The sky was painfully blue outside.

[Anonymous No.15877653]

>>15870998
First stanza reads like Death Grips lyrics. Cool

[Anonymous No.15877745]

>>15861447
No place better—if you live there you’re lucky, truly

[Anonymous No.15877745,1]

>>15866087
You people are disgusting.