/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.2430904]

Hey guys, how could I make this better? I'd appreciate any criticism you've got!
Thank you so much!

>‘Morris Ave, Noon'

i walk with a swagger
thrown off balance by
the big black ugly metal brick camera
in my right hand

past rows and rows and rows of
suburban surfaces sculpted
under interrogational light
indifferent to their own ugliness

and all i want to do is just walk up to their
sheer draped windows and
cup my hands around my eyes
and peer on in and
figure out what the fuck is going on
in their strange little world
and how their insides are decorated
and with what and what they
eat and read and watch
because it all seems so foreign
even though i know it's not
i just want to see

from the sidewalk
the ground-glass displays its mirrored world and
I compose and try to steady myself
like some sort of nervous rifleman

sparse shrubs and crippled Malvern Stars and
a refrigerator draped in blue tarp
punctuate the summer-dead lawn
and provide
a point of difference
between its
identical neighbours
and everything
lines up
perfectly and

the mirror flaps and the shutter clicks and
light burns into the film for
1/125th of a second and a engine roars and

‘what the fuck are you doing, gay cunt?’

is shouted from a Unit-stickered ute
in the driveway and i walk off

i’d be angry too, if i lived there

[None !phi.HcTbyc No.2430909]

>and provide
a point of difference
between its
identical neighbours

not very poetic, little cliche.

I'm pretty tired right now, but this is enjoyable.

[Anonymous No.2430998]

>what the fuck are you doing, gay cunt?

sounds about right to me

[Anonymous No.2431001]

I think your poem could be shorter:

>It's so hard being a super smart, interesting guy
>well, maybe it's not
>just kidding - it really is
>the end

I like the rhythm of yours more, though.

[Anonymous No.2431820]

bump

[Anonymous No.2432927]

>>2431001
i don't think that was what i was trying to convey
what gives you that impression and how can i change it?

[Anonymous No.2432948]

i walk with a swagger thrown off balance by the big black ugly metal brick camera in my right hand, past rows and rows and rows of suburban surfaces sculpted under interrogational light indifferent to their own ugliness. and all i want to do is just walk up to their sheer draped windows and cup my hands around my eyes and peer on in and figure out what the fuck is going on in their strange little world and how their insides are decorated and with what and what they eat and read and watch because it all seems so foreign even though i know it's not i just want to see from the sidewalk the ground-glass displays its mirrored world and I compose and try to steady myself like some sort of nervous rifleman.

sparse shrubs and crippled Malvern Stars and a refrigerator draped in blue tarp punctuate the summer-dead lawn and provide a point of difference between its identical neighbours and everything lines up perfectly and the mirror flaps and the shutter clicks and light burns into the film for 1/125th of a second and a engine roars and

‘what the fuck are you doing, gay cunt?’

is shouted from a Unit-stickered ute in the driveway and i walk off i’d be angry too, if i lived there.
It's much better if you don't pretend it's poetry.

[Anonymous No.2432959]

I walked through some neighborhood
The neighborhood was unclean.
I wanted to make them beautiful but
their faces were ugly and mean.

that's what poetry looks like, jus sayin (that took 15 seconds)

[Anonymous No.2433140]

>>2432959
>>2432948

it's for school and has to be 'free verse'
i am looking forward to being able to rhyme soon