/crit/

[Anonymous No.16151285]

Critique thread
Criticise
Post your stories and poems
Repeat

For large works, please use Pastebin

[Anonymous No.16151383]

I wrote a short short story, short enough to fit in a post as luck would have it. I have no particular interest in critique, just thought I’d share it:

“It is still dark as I’m woken from my sleep by deafening creaks. Creaks that come from a wrought iron gate underneath my window. A car pulls in and the guard steps out of his ramshckle hut, wrapping up tight as he enters the frozen air. He lifts the iron lock up and way, and pulls on the gate. Rusty hinges groan in pain as the the gate swings in the darkness.

Where are these cars going, why must they pass the gate in the dead of night and not during working hours, when all of us are out on business? Night after night, the guard is forced to step outside, the gate is forced to open, despite not wanting to. And like them, I am forced to wake up in a sweat as the gate’s screams make their way up the brickwork like vines, pierce through the windows and my eardrums.

I get out of bed and step over to look down at them. There is the guard, his breath thick in the air, holding the gate so it doesn’t close prematurely, smashing the car as it passes through. There is the car, always a different one, slowly creeping through as the driver makes sure not to hit his mirrors. I have seen the gate in daytime, multicolored lines scratched into both its sides as tired drivers grazed it again and again, their small creaks adding to the gate’s own.

The car passes through finally and the guard pulls on the gate again. Another infernal creak as the iron passes through the thick exhaust fumes. A final clang as the gate is bolted shut, and silence returns to the night, but it is too late, the sounds continue to ring in my ears and my decision is as if made for me.

I put on my shoes and coat, my hat and gloves, and rummage through the cupboard until I find it - a small canister of motor oil. I do not even feel the cold as I step outside, worked up into a frenzy as I am. I approach the gate and with great gentleness apply some motor oil on the great gate’s hinges, soothing their pain. As the gate is locked I cannot test my method, but I believe, I believe it will save me from future torment.

But this gate is not alone, think of how many citizens wake up startled by great creaks in the night as they try to rest! I button my coat all the way up and, motor oil in hand, fade into the darkness on my quest to oil the hinges of all great iron gates in the city, until all their movements will be smooth and silent, and we will finally be able to get a good night’s sleep once again.”

[Anonymous No.16151404]

My wife’s son exists just like the coleslaw given to me on the side of my cheeseburger. It is not really wanted, but it’s presence is accepted; not just tolerated. It does not take up very much space. It consumes resources, but it must be admitted that they are more or less negligible in quantity. It does not suspect that I will throw it away once I am done with my burger.

[Anonymous No.16151529]

I ate from a little blue bowl
Meager, but simply filled
'Til one day she arrived
The little bowl overspilled

It rose several stories
It widened to a pool
With love's cornucopia
Even this bowl would be full

No sooner had it started
The bountiful flow did stop
Standing in this behemoth bowl
I could not climb over the top

I eat from my blue bowl
Same fare as before
Scraped from the bottom
Of an empty, echoing core

>>16151404
Do cheeseburgers really come with coleslaw?

[Anonymous No.16151717]

In the moment he ate the grapes they were little more than a novelty. How good they tasted in the beginning, the glistening violet marbles bursting with sweet juices. Maybe he knew even then it was destined not to last. What a garish sight he must have looked reclined on the king-sized bed that early evening! That newly tailored ballroom suit with all its glitters and sparkles like stardust caught in cream. There was a warm breeze from the large window nearby tickling his bare feet bobbing to a soundless tune; and beyond, framed perfectly, the pinkest sky he had ever even, and the wisps of clouds ushering the sun to sleep. From his first floor suite he could hear the ocean and the Baywater gulls sqwarking. Earlier in the day for something to do he had gone to the thin strip of beach looking for crabs under rocks where the tied was still out. The look on the poor inn clerk’s face when he trekked in the sea mud all over the polished floor! There was enough to grow flowers! He had decided to send a letter that night. The clerk, still furious with him but saying nothing, stood at the foot of the bed jotting down everything dictated to him onto eggshell coloured parchment:
“’To my dearest Mother and Father.’ no. ‘Mother. Father. I write to tell you your son has done what none in Knighthaven thought possible. I have become a successful’ scratch that ‘A man of wealth. Yes mother, I have finally learned how to read and write.’ anyhoo, ‘I'm sure you've heard by now of my heroics at Baywater. In an hour I will be attending the Prince's Engagement Ball where I am to be the guest of honor.’ hmm. ‘The only reason I'm writing this letter to you is to make sure you know: if you turn up looking for a handout you'll receive none from me. Destiny has decreed that you be poor and I be a very rich man who gets everything he deserves. Your son, Hress Crinny Dunter."

PART I: The Trial of Hress Dunter for the Murder of the Prince.

[Anonymous No.16152110]

>>16151717
better without the hresses, but now you have no paragraphs

[Anonymous No.16152136]

>>16152110
>>16152110
Right, this is meant to be an opener of this length approximately. I wanted something with brevity that flowed as one piece.

[Anonymous No.16152642]

>>16151717
Describing grapes as 'glistening violet marbles' made me laugh. And I mean that as a compliment; it grabbed my attention. The hesistance with and re-wording of the letter implies, to me, a certain emotional distance between the character and his parents. If that's intentional, nice job. His name sounds fucking strange, though. It put me right off. I've never been so disturbed by a name as I was by 'Crinny Dunter'.

Here's a shit poem that I wrote

https://pastebin.com/dyC4kJ4Y

[Anonymous No.16153456]

Cunny Hunter.
You're all thinking it.

[Anonymous No.16153481]

>>16153456
Not my intention but whatever. It's funny cos only 4chan anons would think this.

[Anonymous No.16153483]

I wrote this when I was 19, I've been too caught up with University/work to write since
It's just called "AST494 Introd Lecutre"

“Upon introductions I always wish to lavish a great deal of energy, in the case of this semester forthcoming due to how dry many an attempting scholar have found my course to be. However you have my word, as an educator, as a brother, as a mentor, and as your fellow man that I will never attempt to use cheap gimmicks in an attempt to engage you with the material. The podium of obscene vernacular is the lazy professors’ dwelling, and within this lecture hall I vow to never to convey a lesson weighed down with gaudy anecdotes, but instead to let it rise unhindered through the rows and enter the minds of those who allow it entry.
Allowing yourself a survey of the room in which you find yourself seated will produce the following realization (if we are like of mind): every single student sat down here today is at the very cusp of graduation and wishes to strive themselves further than the rest. Astronomy course four-nine-four, a class I’ve held the privilege of teaching for some thirteen years, is a senior course designed by the department of science to cover the obscure and unusual found in the stars above. It is, in my opinion, the best course available for me to instruct for it permits me the unique position of approaching a group of worn and learned men, whose romanticization of the field is near always cursory at its height or vanished at its base, and to turn the tempered flickers of the familizared, the well versed, the knowledged back into the roaring flames of the curious, the clueless, and the hungry.
Every human being is born with a fascination of the stars. This is true, this is in their blood, this is nature. Humans are the distinct rulers of this planet in this chapter, and the chief species able to recognize and appreciate what lay outside our atmosphere. No other mammal will stare up in awe as we do, no other life form that we know can grasp the sheer scope that we may, nothing else in the Kingdom of God will hold you in its sway once it holds you. To the common man, Astronomy may not mean much at all. The glistening above it written off as “space” and filed away in exchange for the problem of the day, never reopened or explored. All of you, however, were not satisfied with that response. You rose, you stood, you disagreed and you ventured out beyond not only what we can see with the naked eye but out to far beyond our sun.”

[Anonymous No.16153664]

cunny

[Anonymous No.16154042]

>>16153664
Powerful.

[Anonymous No.16154045]

Prometheus
stonebound
parched pale like bone
by daylight
dreams

of a plastic bag flailing
forest fire smoking
choked up rubbish river
frenzied locust feeding
hypodermic crucifixions in the earth

until
he awakens
to talon and beak
tearing insatiably
from navel to breast

Prometheus
closes his eyes
and feels the justice

in blood running
warmer than the sun

[Anonymous No.16154066]

>>16151404
Shit taste in food and also a miserable excuse for a man

[Anonymous No.16154076]

Where the Channel
kisses the lips of the Rhine:
I heard a song bird from your soul.

And as the gulf above us yawned,

I heard it sing nothing;
and so I thought of nothing;
and I feared that you thought it too.

[Anonymous No.16154120]

>>16151383
Sorry man, I dropped it from the first sentence.

[Anonymous No.16154309]

>>16154076
the last line doesnt work, i felt like it should have ended like
'and i feared of nothing at all'

[Anonymous No.16154364]

>>16153483
Satire?

[Anonymous No.16154370]

>>16151383
Your writing style is both stilted and sloppy, though in parts it is sensual and concise. For example:
>A car pulls in and the guard steps out of his ramshackle hut, wrapping up tight as he enters the frozen air
>There is the guard, his breath thick in the air
And even:
>I button my coat all the way up
The images speak for themselves, like smoky oil lamps.

>It is still dark as I’m woken from my sleep by deafening creaks.
>the sounds continue to ring in my ears and my decision is as if made for me.
This is stilted.

You could try your hand at a story about everyday life. Leave out the poetic language (infernal creaks, groaning hinges, screaming gates). Don't make it metaphorical, just straight. You have good eyes, so let your images speak. You don't need poetry as a crutch. Your talent lies elsewhere.

[Anonymous No.16154480]

>>16154066
Worlds best stepdad over here

[Anonymous No.16154734]

wrote this for the 'describe this body type in your best prose thread'. I don't write fiction much, so let me know what you think.

I sat rigidly on the musky carpet of her dorm room as she took me through her small collection of vinyl records. Slowly my mind began to wander as the sound of her voice decayed into a rhythmic drone. I looked at her body, considering its various angles and aspects. She had a strange figure, not boyish, but lacking the fullness of a truly adult woman. Yet there was nonetheless an aura of femininity about her. It was in the smoothness of her skin, the budding breasts that pushed against the inside of her shirt, and the awkward yet sensual way she carried herself.

[Anonymous No.16154767]

>>16154734
looks like an AI cut and pasted phrases from three other books.
how can something be both rhythmic and droning?
aura of femininity
budding breasts
sensual way she carried herself

trite
boring
undescriptive

[Anonymous No.16154783]

>>16154767
that makes a lot of sense actually. since I don't really write I've never developed a style of my own.

[Anonymous No.16154901]

>The man of twenty-seven years of age stood shackled in his pew. He looked the worse for wear, the sparkles of his ballroom outfit now almost entirely gone. And yet to the onlookers in the stands he did not disappoint; not even a two month stay in a courtroom dungeon cell could diminish his God given good looks. Even now he cut a striking image, one half of his six foot three inches in height bathed in egg-yolk sunlight, the other, seen from a different angle, making a strikingly heroic silhouette; even with the recent shortage of good food this man’s natural frame was broad shouldered and barrel chested, but still with a good deal of wiry-youthed muscle. Even the man’s hair hadn’t lost its poised shape; reddish-brown and streaked back like a pirate, but with one large vanity lock of hair curling upward at the front in defiance of gravity. Of all the aspects of the man seen on this day and the next, by far the most remembered by those stood or sat as witness to the whole ordeal, was the man’s outrageously charming looks; his impressive jawline, his large dimpled chin, and, most of all, his roguish grin peeling back to reveal a set of rather pleasant teeth for a man raised in poverty.

[Anonymous No.16154967]

>>16151285
Okay, heres my thired try with this story on this site. It's a commentary on struggle, aesthetics, lust, moral subjectivity, and religion in a alt-history setting. My influences are Evola, Wilde, and perhaps homer though this is far from their standards of quality. It is not lefty or pol tier, though it is quite inappropriate (nothing coomer tier) in some parts at the end of the story so if you like to avoid that, do not read:
https://pastebin.com/wYFjnAa5

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16154985]

>>16154076

Don’t particularly like the gulf yawning, I’d have preferred a stronger rhyme structure but that’s my own preference. Just doesn’t give a lot of substance imo, not enough imagery nor flavor.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16155009]

Two poems.


Conjuration of the Ghosts


“I do invocate thee, foul ghosts dwelling in graves
In darkness do you dwell, the spirits of the Dead
The absence of presence, The empty shades of dread
Heed my hamartic call, accursed hamartic slaves
ignorance, secrets, Lack, you are that which depraves
Unknown voices and sights, mysteries of Godhead
By the bell and the sickle, the Evil lord of Lead
You hold and wrap the forms, come darkness of the caves


And bring with you I am i, open hidden empty gate
Alien lights and knowledge, Meonic and thrice Mauve Height
logos without the logoi, unknowable fathers light
The living and moving Void, presence of absence is Fear!
Images of nothing, Essence of the hidden state
Hamartia thelema, you marriage phantoms appear!”

The willows

1. Surrounded by willows, spirits hiding with blades
2. Myriads of twigs twisting, contorting malefic braids
3. the Ancient moon and roaring river, million hands and golden forms
4. formless shapes surround me, Hamartic willow Shades

[Anonymous No.16155029]

>>16155009
terrible to the point of parody.

why do you insist on using a tripcode?
do you really want to get a reputation with this drivel?

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16155034]

>>16155029

So I can save critiques and recommendations and particular discussions I like.

[Anonymous No.16155037]

>>16155034
why do you need a tripcode for that?

[Anonymous No.16155038]

>>16155034
what the fuck does that even mean?
just disappear already, you suck and you'll never not suck.

[Anonymous No.16155047]

>>16155009
word salad.
kys

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16155074]

>>16155047

Which part was too word salady? Is the religious references like mauve and meonic too blatant ?

[Anonymous No.16155106]

>>16155009
this reads like it was written by a middle schooler trying to imitate Shakespeare without ever reading him

[Anonymous No.16155121]

>>16154045
Good work my friend, you convey a over stated message in a creative and refreshing format that is devoid in many writings on the same topic. You put life into it and convey a style, yet a familiarity with the raw simplicity of your motifs and imagery. Only thing I would change is some formatting in the first and third sections for visual and rhythmic reasons.

[Anonymous No.16155213]

>>16155009
Don't let others belittle your imagery rich poetry. This world has become so sterilized we need pompf and aesthetics like this to make up for the lack of it in our imaginations. Not all of it was comprehensible, but it sounded pleasing in my head as I read, Everyone else here just writes sterile, yet coomer like prose and they condemn anyone who tries to be more. Keep writing king.

[Anonymous No.16155265]

>>16155213
you forgot your tripcode

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16155276]

>>16155213

Thanks dude, I guess a large problem is I’m using too many idiosyncratic religious and personal philosophical terms which is making it come off more like word salad. But yeah I’m genuinely not trying to write like anyone other than myself. I’ll try to lessen the odd terms next time.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16155340]

>>16151529

I would extend it a bit by adding more to the middle to elaborate further on the love and continue it a bit to talk about the echoing emptiness.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16155349]

The Emerald Fox Dream

“Cinnamon in my spleen
Emerald a beautiful green
A fox colored green


Pellucid when it faced the moon
As a bloody cold corpse, bloom
Your Opalescent rainbow lights bloom


I’ll roast the flesh with a lamb
Lamb liver, fox, myrrh, and clam
Calamus, cassia, olive, cinnamon hidden in clam.


The sacrificial cream
That I saw in my dream
The emerald fox dream”

[Anonymous No.16155354]

thanks for killing the thread, fucking retard

[Anonymous No.16155650]

>>16154364
Depends on the student hearing it

[Anonymous No.16155897]

>>16155349
>>16155340
>>16155276
>>16155074
>>16155034
>>16155009
>>16154985
Can we just start a new thread now instead of bumping this shit for 3 days?

[Anonymous No.16156035]

Okay. Dug up one of my novel outlines, dusted it off, and began writing the story relating to it.
I've written 4 chapters so far, but I don't know if I should continue.
I wrote a prologue, to see if I could perhaps make this more compelling for a reader, and based off feedback from others.
This is also generally aimed at teenagers too, with the hopes of it not feeling too angtsy in a very juvenile way.
Anyways, here's the prologue and the first chapter, just under 5k words. I think there's a lot of issues, like inappropriate usage/inconsistency of metaphor, sentence structure, redundancy and so on, but I would like more criticism from others to see if it would be worth exploring this more.
https://pastebin.com/cjdx7HcK

[Anonymous No.16156058]

>>16151285
I loathe this place and all the memories I have of it. Not a single bit of nostalgia remains. Everything I can remember has been tainted by my failures and by the meaninglessness of it all. What used to be new and foreign to me is now decrepit and unpleasant. The people. The places. Even those blue skies which I once appreciated, taunt me relentlessly. The heat radiates down and fills my whole body, until it is pulsating throughout, leaving me nauseous and weak. My only escape is through the void of night. Under that veil of darkness, the intertwining streets become constellations, and the street lamps become artificial stars which act as beacons for the lost. All I can do now is wander along these constellations and past these stars.

[Anonymous No.16156957]

>>16156058
I'm no writer so take this as you please, but I'd say lose the last sentence; repetition of both 'constellations' and 'stars' so immediately after they have just been introduced in the sentence prior makes for stilted reading. I like the metaphor, though. Perhaps end the last sentence with a different but similarly related analogy to the night sky.

[Anonymous No.16157735]

Bumpen

[Anonymous No.16157759]

The rose
By
Hadrian White

Untroubled by the slightest thing
The rose it grows,
To rise in spring
Divine-ness brings
It's pose that flows
To the skies like wings.
Surprise arise; it sighes in storms.
Wise and shy, it hides its thorns.
Petals sing of sound creation
And its creator's name in elevation.
It's rise and shine and celebration,
Implies in kind, a revelation.

[Anonymous No.16157787]

>>16157759
>Divine-ness
Divinity? I don't get poetry at all so excuse me for being a retard

[Anonymous No.16157821]

>>16157787
I made up a word for two reasons, I want to talk about things being crafted by divinity rather than being divine themselves also creative license to make the words fit and all that.

[Anonymous No.16158064]

>>16157821
three reasons
the third is you're a faggot

[Anonymous No.16158086]

>>16151285
Even with full knowledge of my despair you still sought to wreak upon my spirit a conclusive death-blow. You promised to my heart to send that picture yesterday, thus deceiving me and perversely inverting what even the most defenseless and feeble of society can always cling to- the sense of hope itself. All this in one calculated move. In the immediate next you rubbed salt in the wound by keeping me up every hour of the day, when I meticulously anticipated the picture of my dreams... the picture that permeates my mind, both day and night, both dusk and dawn... the picture from which there is no escape, no matter how fast I run, no matter how strong my faith is- NO, not even in my dreams can I find any peace whatsoever.

Words utterly fail to describe the level of anguish and red brick rage I have reached - I say to you I am beyond the gates of misery. The pain I feel from dangling the flesh of my palms and wrists a scarce fraction of an inch above my candle's red flame- the searing sensation of my supple tendons melting away at an agonizing rate- barely describes even half of how colossally tortured my spirit has grown because of you.


I feel cringe reading this but I can't pin it exactly...

[Anonymous No.16158122]

>>16158086
>Send Nudes: The Motion Picture

[Anonymous No.16158125]

>>16158064
Anon, we're on 4chan(nel)...we're all faggots here.

[Anonymous No.16158172]

Poem I wrote with strong religious references, please be kind

When first I frolicked in the garden,
Delicious apples everywhere,
I begged of God above his pardon
And ate and ate without a care.

But fattened by the redness fruit
My tongue did tire of its pursuit
And left me, full of apples, sad.
I'd done the worst: I drove God mad.

[Anonymous No.16158183]

>>16158125
no, it's just you.

[Anonymous No.16158187]

Just then Gabe had this grim look on his face, wrinkles drawn in anguish. I looked at him and felt a great swelling of energy.
“You go into these places, these businesses. They give you their beautiful smile, you feel this warmth, this tenderness, this promise. A togetherness. Goddamn, how naive I am. You get into their office and give them something they want as an act of sacrifice, as some act of basic decency or warmth, and they smile back and accept you. They look you in your eye and you feel their love, their enterprise wrapping itself all around you and you have to keep a stone face. You have to relate a distance because nothing else will keep them from tearing you up in their endless grinder of going off. Going off with other entrepreneurs, Those with it all tucked under their arms in beautiful binders. And what have I got? This weight vest of stupid history. Lumped around my neck like I’m in a fat suit! This goddamn video! I pick myself up every time and say this will be different. This will be like another dawn, and that all that was wrong was my negative mindset. My own disgusting hopefulness. This paper guard gets burnt away each time. Trampled in the dirt and spit out. Again and again. How much of this can I take? Much more than I thought, but that is not a hope in itself. No, that’s nothing. That’s just the way things go, I guess. They go away. I keep this cool guy demeanor. You know it. You see it. I have an okay job. I have a fiance. But I’m just like you. Under it all we’re just the same. You’re just honest to the world.”
“No offense of course?”
“Offense? What could words do in this culture that just leads you on and on, making you feel good that they’re leading you ahead to some perfect life and it just feeds you the slop of candy aphorisms and guess what? The light at the end of the tunnel? It’s nothing. We are all in the chicken factory, my friend. Being led to slaughter with promise of upward mobility. I say to myself over and over again, this is the moment things change. This is when I capitalize and rise like a goddamn 747, but things stay the same, over and over again they stay the same. Well guess what. I mean it now, Goddamnit, I mean it! Now. This is when things change. Pull no stops.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
This was when we began to lie ridiculously.

[Anonymous No.16158200]

>>16158183
UWU

[Anonymous No.16158204]

>>16151285
>https://pastebin.com/dyC4kJ4Y
Here it is, I wrote this yesterday because I was angry at a bunch of retards in twitter, I hope its semi-decent

[Anonymous No.16158217]

>>16158204
shit wrong link, the first one errors out
https://pastebin.com/UJPMdgtn
I hope this one works

[Anonymous No.16158240]

What is that petty thing called love?
It's like that sanitary glove
That's used to touch an aching dove
That everyone just loves to shove,
To make up for their lack thereof.
So lighten up a little, guv!
I am not going to rhyme love
With such cliches as "heav'n above".

[Anonymous No.16158246]

ok, this has gone from mildly cringe to utterly revolting. I'm out

[Anonymous No.16158285]

>>16158172
>When first I frolicked in the garden,
>Delicious apples everywhere,
they were actually at one specific tree only
>I begged of God above his pardon
Eve did beg nobody
>And ate and ate without a care.

>But fattened by the redness fruit
calory intake of one apple is pretty healthy. it scares doctors how much. redness fruit? the fruit's redness? the reddened fruit?
>My tongue did tire of its pursuit
uff
>And left me, full of apples, sad.
>I'd done the worst: I drove God mad.
it's a nice little poem. needs some altering. after all, it beats Milton because it rhymes.

[Anonymous No.16158301]

>>16158240
reddit

[Anonymous No.16158353]

>>16155009
If you're only going to learn one spell it should actually be Explosion https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coYieIF8I5M

[Anonymous No.16158698]

>>16158301
rude

[Anonymous No.16158732]

>>16158240
I didn't laugh really at the punchline. I pushed air out of my nose a little more than necessary, but hardly appreciatively, rather in a forgiving manner.

[Anonymous No.16159590]

>>16158732
reddit

[Anonymous No.16159859]

People who mow the lawn
Are the same people
Who gassed the Jews.
Do you feel me?

[Anonymous No.16160420]

>>16158217
Your sentences are too long. Use less commas and more full stops. Also don't start with world-building narration. Start with a character in a scene doing something. You need to give the reader an anchor in the world before you throw world-building at them.

[Anonymous No.16161340]

>>16155897
Dude, why? Why pollute the board with more threads continually? ________bump________

[Anonymous No.16161498]

>>16161340
Faggot

[Anonymous No.16161945]

>>16155009
What's so bad about this?
Can I get a rundown, I'm new to poetry

[Anonymous No.16162503]

>>16161945
>I'm new to poetry
i strongly recommend reading ezra pound's essay "a retrospect"

>What's so bad about this?
it's not as mind-blowingly awful as others are making out
it's just full of unnecessary / jarring words, and the rhymes are mostly forced and cheap
just look at the first stanza:

>I do invocate thee, foul ghosts dwelling in graves
"invocate" - why not invoke?
"dwelling" is superfluous, "ghosts in graves" is silly

>In darkness do you dwell, the spirits of the Dead
burlesque alliteration
contains no new information except that the graves are, as one might expect, dark

>The absence of presence, The empty shades of dread
"empty" is hardly different from "absent of presence"
"shades of dread" (cheap rhyme) = "foul ghosts"

>Heed my hamartic call, accursed hamartic slaves
"hamartic call" - his erring / tragically flawed call?
"heed my call" is unnecessary, assumed in an invocation
"accursed" may be gleaned from "foul / dreadful"

>Unknown voices and sights, mysteries of Godhead
>By the bell and the sickle, the Evil lord of Lead
"godhead / lord of lead" is a comically bad rhyme
"evil" is unnecessary in describing a "lord of lead"

>You hold and wrap the forms, come darkness of the caves
word salad: "forms" + allegory of the cave(?) reference - seems to say nothing

[Anonymous No.16162510]

>>16151285
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lHTZ0QzWfLM2I4IOEwxVD0ogZdQv0icKM0fI558LBvg/edit?usp=sharing

This is all

[Anonymous No.16162538]

Sequel to an Edgar Allen Poe poem

Another raven flew my way
My eyes were full of tears
It looked so glad, happy, and gay
It ended all my fears
It was the beginning of May
I forgot all my cares
But then the raven came to say
"Nevermore - remember your fears."

[Anonymous No.16162661]

My views were very well received. My deep insights garnered many comments from avid readers. My prose was clear, and above all, ethical. My post, which was the thesis of my current political and philosophical views, arrived rapidly at the front page, where it was lauded with many upvotes and at least 10 different awards, including two platinum medals, pinned next to my well thought title.

I leaned back and looked at my post once again. I realized that what I had written was not really that insightful, and it was mostly hollow non sense, devoid of any intelligent thought. I had repeated empty words. None of it could be called genius. It was pathetic. It was worthless trash. I felt hollow. The post got another award.
"Oh God, I wish I were dead." I said to my empty room

[Anonymous No.16163289]

Wendigo spirit


I am always hungry, so I bite my fingers
I hate being around people, will to desolation lingers
I am always hungry, so I chew off some skin
In shadows and in deep forests, empty places no one has been
I am always hungry, so I bite the phalange
I smell my own body rotting, my bone and skin feel so strange
I am always hungry, so my eyes look very black
I eat and eat yet I hunger, cities harm me I must go back
I am always hungry, so I hunt for a taste
I see a human roaming here, i did perform the great disgrace
I am always hungry, so I am never full
Heart, Tongue, brain, entrails, eyes, fingers, though I have had many mouthfuls
I am always hungry, so my body is grey
Birch, white ash, owls, rocks, black void, only they can hear what I say
I am always hungry, so I eat my own lips
I am hunger, hunger, hunger, from my hunger I am eclipsed
I am always hungry, so i will always go
There is nothing left I am gone, for I have become wendigo
I am always hungry, hungry hungry hungry
Hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry

[Anonymous No.16164154]

Forlorn and glum in appearance,
With an icy visage and stoic heart.
Was a man both cold and distant,
Whose life, unknown, he lived apart.


His face sagged and displayed no joy,
From many years without a friend,
Until his heart froze forever,
To be alone till’ life’s bitter end.

[Anonymous No.16164231]

>Young hearts be free tonight.Time is on your side,
>Don't let them put you down, don't let 'em push you around,
>Don't let 'em ever change your point of view.
>Young hearts be free tonight.
>Time is on your side.

[Anonymous No.16164286]

>>16151404
I think its good

[Anonymous No.16164560]

>>16162538
this actually brought me to tears, good work anon
which poe poem is it a sequel to?

[Anonymous No.16164965]

>>16162503
Ah thank you for the effortpost anon, I've learned something new today

[Anonymous No.16165631]

>>16151529
I really like this, what inspired it?

[Anonymous No.16166112]

>>16151285
Give me rfreakingn 2/3 sentences about this image

[Anonymous No.16166139]

>>16158204
Would it kill you people to throw in some dialogue when you write these masturbatory paragraphs

[Anonymous No.16166153]

How did moot escape all this?

[Anonymous No.16166155]

>>16166112
Two wooden bunks on watery ground.
A single hue for heaven and earth.
Alligator and hydroplants.

[Anonymous No.16166322]

>>16166155
Ty, the 2nd is really good