/critique/

[Anonymous No.9431167]

Critique thread.

Please critique others before or after posting your own work

[Anonymous No.9431266]

https://pastebin.com/fDCvjeuv

[Anonymous No.9431824]

>>9431167
The Black Kings Burden

Whitey, whitey, watchu doin
Why yo appropriate ma shit
Whitey, whitey, we wuz rulin
And yo lived in som caveman pit

[Anonymous No.9431831]

>>9431824
Incredible

He lays on his bed, listening to Fela Kuti, the record his Daddy bought him. The rhythm jitters out of the speaker, hypnotic. He has a whole heap of records now cuz his Daddy always brings him a couple when he comes round, which isn’t often, maybe once a month. Always artists that Taylor ain’t ever heard of before: First it was Kuti, then Sun Ra, then Pharoah Sanders, then Labi Siffre, Lonnie Liston Smith, Thelonious Monk, and so on. Each record like a slice of the cosmos pressed on wax, transporting him to places far beyond the rust-coloured streets and the sweltering, swollen cities, and up past the clouds and the blue of the sky. His Daddy only comes to give his Momma a bit of cash, and to see Taylor briefly; his Momma never wants the money though, at least she says she don’t, but his Daddy insists every time, taking the notes from his wallet and putting ‘em down on the table. He’s a wise looking man, Taylor’s Daddy; always knocks on Taylor’s door, three light knocks, and when Taylor opens it he’s always got a smile on his face, big gleaming teeth shining, and he never looks any older, not in all the years Taylor’s been on this earth, and he stands there a moment staring down at Taylor, before presenting him with this month’s collection of records. Taylor always scans through ‘em, inspecting each one. They always have these covers with a man on the front, instrument in hand, some of ‘em all colourful and psychedelic, some just a picture, all of ‘em looking serious and cool and wise; men who look a bit like Taylor’s Daddy. And every time he says ‘don’t tell your Momma’ and smiles an even wider smile, and rubs a hand through Taylor’s hair. And then he walks out again and closes the door. Taylor don’t play the records straight away, he places them softly and carefully on his bed and goes to the window and opens it up as far as it will go so it scrapes the metal grill surrounding it, and he sticks his head out to look into the sizzling street, the baking sun hanging overhead, to watch his Daddy walk out the house to his car, his Momma’s voice carrying from the doorway after him: ‘you ain’t gonna keep coming here, you ain’t no father’ she says, and Taylor can smell the musty funky smell of weed as it drifts up through his window from the spliff his Momma’s just lit, and his Father don’t look back as he slams the car door with a ringing thud and then leaves, the car’s engine rumbling as he pulls away. ‘Listen naw’ Taylor’s Momma always says, ‘Yo Father ain’t a good man. Maybe you think he is cus he comes round here all nice and dresses all smart but let me tell you he ain’t shit. He ain’t raised you, I raised you. He give us money cus that’s the least that he should do for us.’ She says this as she lights another spliff. ‘Yo Father’s a loser, you understanding me, nigga?’

[Anonymous No.9431839]

>>9431266
Sorry if this turns out to just be a list of deflating criticisms. I'm a bit too tired to write up a critique that picks out examples section by section and provides commentary. However, if you have specific questions I will do my best to answer them.


You often use two descriptors where one or even none would suffice. Makes for uncomfortable reading.

Speaking more generally, many of the sentences feel laboured. I'm not suggesting you go for minimalism, but you should learn to craft/be satisfied with sentences that are simple and direct. It will help balance your writing.

You sometimes misuse words. "Specious" makes very little sense in the context you applied it. Perhaps it makes sense to you, but the opacity here doesn't make for pleasurable reading.

The organisation of your sentences is often unnecessarily awkward.

On a positive note, there's an idea here, rather than some horrifying cliche. Also, in terms of some of the criticisms I have outlined, the writing improves somewhat as it progresses.

So, in crude summation, write about the same shit, but write it better. That's a better than most.
https://pastebin.com/uiv3fRdJ

Feel free to point out where I have been a hypocrite.

[Anonymous No.9431865]

>>9431839
Thanks. I shot it out this afternoon with the intention of getting the idea down and then re-writing it later so I agree with a lot of what you said. I'll leave it for a couple of days to gain some distance and then apply your critiques.

Will comment on yours in a later post

[Anonymous No.9431958]

>>9431839
All I can say is that the dialogue reads as very natural. I felt like I had a good sense of who Talbot and the woman are, especially in how they differ.

The only criticism would be a lack of apparent direction, which is forgivable if it's part of a larger work and not a short story.

[Anonymous No.9432030]

>>9431958

Thank you, I appreciate that.

As for the lack of direction, that's fair. It is a short story, but most of my short stories are attempts to practice for longer works I hope to write. There are many things that I like about minimal plotting, but I feel that unless I can write a short story that does have a strong sense of direction I might be simply hiding my inabilities within my "preferences".

Thanks, you helped me make up my mind. Tomorrow I'm going to try and write a short story with a definitive sense of direction.

[Anonymous No.9432040]

On Hannah Diamond

When that bass hits
like a wet laugh,

the candle wax drips
through my ribs and eyes.

You hopscotch across
that daggerfairy-synth,
feet bleeding like gloss-

Jesus. Pin-up
your gossamer wings.

Pitch-up to heaven
attached to velcro angels.

When that bass plops,
and the gum pops,
I wonder at its cruelty.

When that treble drips
off your plastic lips,
I wonder at its cruelty.

>>9431824
eh

[Anonymous No.9432089]

>>9431824

Change the last line to:

>You wuz all upindah caveman shiiiiiiiih

[Anonymous No.9432252]

>>9431831

I'm paranoid that this is pasta, simply because it's about black people.

Regardless, I liked it. The dialect is a little miscalculated at times, causing the voice of the piece be feel at odds with itself.

Keep it up though.

I'm>>9431839 if you're interested.

[Anonymous No.9432913]

bump

[Anonymous No.9433316]

an ikea salad

been bamboozled another by that moonslinging son of a whip-crack. one of these 3:36 pm’s i’m gonna wake with cake on my throat. speed racer earning some greasy simoleons, he does. grendall kirchner aimless and true mumbles his way into rightless eternities. my elbows grungy up to the idea of wingless avocadoes. please be told you are one buddy walleye in this fling-up parade. you are my rastaman from iceland with golden fingertips.

weightless birds with lego blood dance towards infernal burger joints. like 30 times the bunsen burner feeds the viagra babies in pepsi. with my lighter i set the mosaic mirror on fire. georgia peach in georgia font. keep on surgeon on for those mink iron answers. billy eyed bluebelly really ought to do something about this.

tennis elbow johnny manhunt lily willow steal this heart of water bells. the stream seems false. verify your freedom condition with your freedom identification. who do you think you are smoking space shuttles in the blossom pie night? the future takes you where? ablaze’n din and even ablaze’n lulls. the task manager is a task. go back to your home.

[Anonymous No.9433452]

>>9431824
Fired up my nuerons there anon.

Here's what I got. Amatuer hour, watch where you step folks. Three parts this one..

The vacuum of space felt a little smaller that day.
King stood guard in his fighter; a small craft no higher than five metres, no wider than ten. Shoe-shine polished. Gattle gun at the helm with a knack of vaporizing – so long as it weren’t over three.
Bad day to be in a tin can, he thought, and thus they went to war.
The S.S Arcadia came into view, the blue moon of Siphus barely walled from the lumbering view of steel hull. Star cruiser, S- Class it said on the side, long hauls of red branding. And there, by the side of it’s branding was the symbol of the iron lady, sceptre in one hand, a crown of stars in the other, and beneath her feet was the lost planet of their former homeland, for which is why this battle and all other battles forever will be predicated on – Earth: the last wish of the former Earth’s Alliance.
“All fighters on me!” said Joker over the com. “We’ve got bugs at two o’clock, and it looks like they’ve brought a hive, gentlemen.”
King looked over the thinly veiled tint of his windshields. A slight haze dozed as the temperature dropped to minus ten – that’s how you knew the Praetorians were nearing: a blur at first as you see them gather, but as sure as the light strips shadow - they will all be naked before the prying eyes of the foolishly hopeful, and there King sat, and saw all of it laid bare; they were threshing about like the waves of the stormy sea, the poisonous abyss barely yawning to the glint of thunder striking across the black waves. Their eyes were like burning indigo, the colour of royalty, the colour of empires, and in this galaxy, only one will get to mutter that right. And for the King, it will all end today.
“Looks like they got busy,” said Spades, the B- Class Bomber of the group. He raised thrusters to make sure he was on top of the whole squad. It was never fun to get grabbed during a raid, and the last thing you wanted was a Natter canning your windshield to suck your guts out through a straw, and that’s why you always made sure there’s a guy around to finish the job. With Bombers, one could to a lot worse than Spades, and he knew he had an eye for it.
“Move on up,” said Captain Ace, ace as ace up a sleeve of cards, “I want everyone on Joker’s rear till we reach the left flank of that swarm. Keep your thrusters at low vibrate, and douse those shields till we reach thick-twenty.”
We’d be lucky if we hit ten, thought King. There was a nagging doubt in his head about the fortitude of the new Fighter model; coincidentally because it was the fastest to explode on a first contact. To penetrate ten percent into the swarm, before a Natter decided to kamikaze your fortunes was like hitting the lottery – except it was always rigged.

(1/3)

[Anonymous No.9433458]

>>9433452
“They’re coming!” Joker said, speeding ahead of the pack. “Looks like the Natters are on first base.”
“Remember the plan,” said Ace, “Loose formation till we reach thick-twenty, then edge it triangle once we got the clear from HQ. I want no wise-guys.”
“You’re in the navy, Ace,” said Spades, chuckling, “we ain’t got one of those.”
“Should’ve been in the Marines then, eh Spades?” said King.
“Aw shut up,” said Spades.
Everyone signalled their okay. Decker Squad was on loose.
A buzz of colours flew across space, rainbow lasers in all directions, explosions, screaming, the bursting of shells, and Decker Squad was in the thick of it.
“We lost the Vanguard!” radioed HQ.
“There goes the right flank!” said a Cruiser Captain.
“Left flank’s taking a beating, how many we got left?!”
“Hold up!” radioed HQ. “I’m picking up a small squadron of fighters at thick-twenty!”
The Arcadia moved into frame, a lumbering hull of metal, barely hovering, more like amassing the very structure of open space into its gravitational presence.
“That’s Decker Squad for you,” said Admiral Barkins. “I knew those new models would pull through.”
“I wouldn’t be too chappy yet, if I were you,” said Admiral Corinth. “They’ve still got to break the fourth wall before they can reach the Mothership. And if anyone of them dies-”
“Then we pull a Plan B,” said Barkins, “But we should wait till we draw that Mothership in range. No good to fire it from here.”
“I agree,” said Admiral Bashard. “Copy to all Admirals: deactivate your cloaks; conserve all energy for Ion fire.”
Two more Cruisers crept into the shadows of the field, as large as the first before them. The Elysium and the Olympus were their twin names; sporting cannons five hundred meters wide, these vessels brought the name of genocide at first glance of the Ion.
Spades moved up on King’s left flank.
“You’ve been hit!” he said. “Stabilize your thrusters, or your engine’s going to blow!”
“I ain’t got spares!” said King. “If I douse those thrusters now, I won’t have enough shield to bury through the thick of the fourth wall!
“What’s wrong back there?!” said Ace.
“King’s been hit, sir,” said Spades. “Engine looks like it took a blow-out on the first impact.”
“Ah sticks!” said Joker, “Ok, cover my six, I’m moving behind him.”
“Forget about me, it’s nothing!” said King, “the last thing we need is-”
“You don’t get to decide what is and what isn’t, King,” said Ace cutting him, “I want King front and centre. Everyone! Form a triangle. King I want you in middle.”
Decker Squad confirmed and began the shift, when suddenly a moment’s pause allowed a Natter to swipe Joker’s tail fin clean off.
“Dammed bugs…” he said recovering his balance, shifting back into calm space.

(2/3)

[Anonymous No.9433463]

>>9433458
“Joker,” said Ace, “Set your thrusters to zero shift; keep the wings on ninety, and don’t use up any of your rockets.”
“I got it, I got,” said Joker. “Last thing I need is you babying me.”
Spades sighed. “For crying out loud.”
Admiral Barkins moved his way across the terminals of the bridge to inspect the last of the head charge. There was a flurry of radio static and dead lifelines on every computer, except one.
“How much have they penetrated through the swarm?”
“A good twenty - twenty two thick,” said the coordinator. “They’re clearing up on twenty five soon, but it looks like they’re having trouble.”
“Twenty five’s just fine,” said Barkins returning to his console. “Bashard, Corinth – are your cannons charged?”
“All ion filters are loose, Admiral,” said a stray coordinator, “We’re ready on you.”
‘Ready on you,” said Corinth.
“Ready on you,” said Bashard.
Barkins glared the Praetorian field one last time; it was as if eyeing the last blight of a dying animal, squirming for its last breath of air – before the ants come to devour what’s left.
“Fire,” he said.
‘Shields on!” Ace screamed. No one had time to protest. By the time they could think to complain, there was already a large segue of light piercing through a husk-filled graveyard of dead Praetorians, floating in blissful, cathartic delight.
“I’m never going to get used to that, let me tell you,” said Joker hushing himself.
“And neither am I,” said Ace. “Now! Zoom it home lads!”
The way was clear, the murderous Praetorians out of sight and mind of a short warp jump, the black, cacophonous fortress of the mother ship in plain view of her abode, screeching untranslatable jargons of pained suffering, or perhaps lustful violence. Whatever it was, it chilled bone to anyone with a mic to hear it.
“What in god’s name is that?” said King.
“That,” said Spades, “is the Mama Grande of all Mamma Grandes.”
“You weren’t talking about your mum were you?” said Joker.
“Nah,” said Spades, “I was really talking about your girl, Jokes.”
“Enough,” said Ace. “Everyone ready yourself for warp jump. Set all capacitors at ten thousand, watts at fifty.”
“Aye, aye,” Joker groaned.

(3/3)

[Anonymous No.9433526]

>>9433463
It was shit

[Anonymous No.9433537]

The day it all started

The title is a little misleading and I'm partly sorry for that. I mean, events has been in since the dawn of time;so it was just a matter of,time, until this was to happen. What I'm trying to say is that this is the day that it all started - for me - , in a metaphorical sense of course. This epoch in my lifetime would be just as game changing as my birth. I don't mean to say that my birth was anything miraculous or in a biblical sense. I'm not really a religious person I will tell you that but it has no bearing really on the story, just a little antidote to get to know me better. Anyway, taking twoturns back and return from these tangents: this event was tantamount to the miracle of life coming into being.

First title that came to me as i sat down and wrote a few paragraphs. As I'm rereading it now it's glaring with errors and makes me cringe.

[Anonymous No.9433539]

This excerpt details a state-mandated shrink and his conversation with an agent in deep undercover.

So, I'll start here: "How do you feel?"
Well, its all the same, I suppose, as it has been. I persist. I consider myself a soldier of sorts. I adhere to routine. I struggle with adversity, often times much more powerful than I. I suffer many a blow, but I am also of a mind that he who can endure the most blows is the superior man.
I am privy to the tactics of the warfare I engage in. Both sides apply subtle pressure while presenting all smiles otherwise, and its all about who breaks first. I understand that, since I am but one man, and am contending with many, it is only logical that I break first. This is where logic fails the situation, there is more to take into account. I will not go into the details, but suffice this: it is in my best interest to carry this banner, even if I am outnumbered.
Entrenched in this twisted game, I find respite in the fact that I represent the more virtuous aspect of the struggle. I am the hero to one and the anti-hero to some. Of this I am certain. I sometimes wonder who else will come to know of my tale and how many others I shall be a hero or an anti-hero to. I also wonder if, being presented the whole story, what the general unbiased opinion of a third party would be. This is not to say I would care much, but it would be nice to know there is more good than evil in this world.
I cannot be dislodged from my position of power, despite the efforts of many. It is not so much a position of power, either, as it is merely a position. The power I hold is unweildy and wild, as if I had wrangled a hurricane and managed to tame it, to ride it like a horse, but a horse not fitted with reigns. It is a strange existence, but I find validation in knowing that through the absurdity, there is one man I keep in contact with who resides in a different realm. A nicer realm. One I'd like to revisit. The realm of ignorance. Blissfully unaware of any ongoing intrigue.
I do enjoy my conversations with this man. He is endearingly out of the loop. He is as good a reference point as any to keep myself grounded in what the real narrative of my life should be, and not what I am being assaulted with. He is my ace in the hole. He is the ultimate ally. He would never abandon my cause, even if he doesn't know what the cause is. In fact, he is so useful to me, that he is often the subject of secondhand threats. It is a good thing that he is protected. Such is the nature of War. So, if you must know how I feel, it is rather simple. I sacrifice to earn. It is neither extremely good nor bad. It merely is. Neutral. That's the answer I'm looking for. I feel neutral.

[Anonymous No.9433548]

>>9433526
Thanks for the critique.

[Anonymous No.9433575]

Woke up had a smoke did my dance and drank my coke
Drive my car
Dont go far
Im burning out this star.
I'm going crazy, and i dont know if its fine
im going crazy, and it feels so sublime
At my bread, did my chore.
I felt the bore
Took my time, im feeling fine
should i smell that dandelion ?
Where to go?
no one knows
how it goes
it flows.
I took the last train home and stopped at misery lane.
Everythings different, but why does it feel the same?
Am i going insane?
Woe, am I to blame?

fast world slow brain high five short skirts brown yurts

[Anonymous No.9433844]

>>9432040
this was fucking brilliant man, love it, love "daggerfairy" very cool.

i was wondering... what song of Hannah Diamond's did you have in mind writing this? i'm a huge fan.

[Anonymous No.9434479]

>>9433844
attachment, glad you enjoyed it man!

[Anonymous No.9434525]

>>9432040

I dunno man, sounds like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to me. Out of curiosity, how seriously do you take your own poem?

>>9433316
Is this a pastiche? I have to say I didn't enjoy reading it. Just felt like it was mindless hot air. Sorry, I literally don't even know what to suggest by way of improvement other than scrap it, start again, get a new shtick.

>>9433452
>>9433458
>>9433463

>doesn't provide critique
>expects critique
Pretty sure you've posted this same shit in a bunch of threads too. If so, what are you doing? Just cast a wide net hoping to reeling in some wayward validation?

>>9433537
Makes me cringe too, friendo. Why post something like this? Why not post something you put some effort into? Are you afraid?

>>9433539
Character isn't really believable. Or perhaps the sentences are just awkward. Read them aloud to yourself.

[Anonymous No.9434541]

>>9433575
Pop song lyrics tier

[Anonymous No.9434549]

We enter the apartment and starts kissing right away. I strip her down like a whore, her peachy snatch is slippery wet. I grab her by the hair, push her down on her knees and stuff my erect cock in her tiny mouth. There is a moment of hesitation in her glistening eyes, but she takes it like a champ. After a few minutes she's choking and gasping for air so I allow her some five second pauses before I put it back in. I've had enough of it. I grab her arm and pull her up, turn her around and push her against the wall. I could do anything that I wanted with her and she would just be smiling like a silly little girl. She's not as wet as earlier so I have to force myself inside. She won't let me in before I tell her I love her, so I do and she opens up again. I grab her breasts from behind and go in as deep as I can. She's screaming under her breath and asking me to slow down. I cover her mouth with one hand and keep going. Her body is curved in a perfect "S" form. I periodically pull out my dick and rub it on her clit from behind. It drives her crazy. She accidentally turns on the light with her left hand and feels ashamed. I keep going until she starts twitching in ecstasy and bends down in sweet defeat. I throw her on the bed and go to sleep.

[Cameras No.9434554]

Ears are listening -
watch out.
In glades of the waxing tideline on the shales
I sit aside him like we’re destined
to be together, but
I’m barely past the drinking age.
It doesn’t have to be so serious, does it?

7 years on
watching cityscape processions waft along;
vapors white, exhumed like smog from those coal chimney stacks.
My heels clacking against the sidewalk;
my stockings pulled up in the reflection of an empty shop window;
my eyes adjusted if ever I’m thought to be watching oncomers.

5 years on
he won’t stop crying
but I do love him.

9 years on
a bottle of red,
some finger food,
maybe that cheese later on.

[Anonymous No.9434566]

>>9434525

I realized how I fucked up here. That whole passage wasn't dialogue, it was thought by the character. He thinks about these things before he gives his answer. Its not supposed to be dialogue.

Thanks for the critique, looking back I can see the sentence structuring is a bit odd.

[Anonymous No.9434592]

>>9434566
No worries. You should critique someone. People who post writing but don't critique are the bane of these threads.

[Anonymous No.9434597]

>>9434592

Will do, but right now I gotta run.

[Anonymous No.9434610]

>>9431824
Hahahah this is actually good

>>9431831
'Tis good pal o'pal
this is my piece
The language is supposed to be Poe-esque. It is a gothic short story and basically I just wanted to know if you liked it, liked the characters, etc.

Thank you

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1Xz_IroZJVmVHPPqrQCda0Zz33QoGkwVsiGdcNLQ2TRI

[Anonymous No.9434629]

>>9431839
Really liked this. Great characterisation. Gg

[Anonymous No.9434681]

>>9434525
>mumbo-jumbo
why?

[Anonymous No.9434770]

>>9434629
Thank you. Which is yours?

>>9434681
Sorry man, perhaps I just don't get it. "Mumbo-jumbo" was hyperbolic/inaccurate. I meant more that I found it hard to take seriously, and I don't think it works as a light poem. I could understand it, I just didn't appreciate what I understood.

There is some playful wordplay, some slightly cliched wordplay, some cringy, and some lyrical yet unsatisfactory.

Do you read much poetry? Also, in order to understand how to repsond to you properly I would appreciate an answer to my first question. How seriously do you take this poem?

>>9434549
I don't read erotica, but I presume some of it is of a higher standard than this. I really am not sure how to judge it. I wouldn't keep reading at any rate. Sorry.

>>9434554
Mostly awkward. There's an idea here though. Perhaps rewrite from scratch while retaining the overall idea?

[Anonymous No.9434777]

>>9434770
Can I ask what you mean by awkward?

[Anonymous No.9434805]

>>9434777
Good question. It just moved in an unpleasant way as I read through it. But you deserve some specifics. I'll try my best.

>I sit aside him like we’re destined

The use of 'aside' here. Is this an attempt to replace the word 'beside' with something slightly less suitable and thus hopefully more poetic? I'm not saying that's it, but that question flashed in my mind as I read it. This is one example of the awkwardness I experienced.

The whole of the first section feels cliched if I'm honest. However, (as I already touched upon in my first response) there is an idea here on the whole. The jumping around time periods idea could be turned into something.

The feel of the writing is very inconsistent though. I dunno if you're changing the style of language based on the different time periods or something? Anyway, the effect is a bit hotchpotch.

I hope this clarifies my position for you.

[Anonymous No.9434816]

>>9434770
>>9434610
That ones mine pal

[Anonymous No.9434900]

>>9434816
Okay. I will give you some feedback, just might take a while. Have to find some time to read it.

[Anonymous No.9434945]

>>9434770
>some slightly cliched wordplay
>some cringy
>some unstisfactory

could you tell me which ones you feel this way about?

and I read poetry (this one is part of a string where I'd been reading H.D. a lot)

Its meant to be serious and specifics would be greatly appreciated here

[Anonymous No.9434969]

>>9433539
I really dig your idea, but as another anon said the character is not believable enough. It feels too much like a third person talking about him, even though it's in first person.

[Anonymous No.9435023]

>>9434945
>H.D
Okay that helps me make some sense out of what you're aiming for, although not all that much as I'm not a familiar reader of H.D. I spent a couple weeks reading through some of her work a while back.

On Hannah Diamond

>When that bass hits
cringy, like something a dj would say.
>like a wet laugh,
sensual, but lacking within the larger context of the poem

>the candle wax drips
>through my ribs and eyes.
Sort of lyrical imagery, but nothing unfamilar or subversive is done with these images. There is nothing new about the candle, the wax, the ribs, the eyes, or whatever it is they are supposed to suggest.

>You hopscotch across
>that daggerfairy-synth,
>feet bleeding like gloss-
Again, there is some playful wordplay here, novel, but in a way that would only be interesting to you. (and maybe someone who is also in on who this Hannah Diamond is, as I have seen earlier in the thread)

>Jesus. Pin-up
>your gossamer wings.
This feels extremely cliched/cringy. wings. gossamer. Not without doing something more than that with them you don't.

>Pitch-up to heaven
>attached to velcro angels.
Heaven, angels, all massively cliched images. The attempt to render angel novel with 'velcro' is another example of some imagination on your part, but it really is unsatisfactory.

>When that bass plops,
>and the gum pops,
>I wonder at its cruelty.
First two lines are similar to the first statement I made about your phrase being like something a dj would say. The 'cruelty line' seems to be an attempt to draw it back into the a sort of artistic seriousness, but again, it really falls short. Borderline cliche. e.g. this beautiful, cruel, thing vibe. cliche.

>When that treble drips
>off your plastic lips,
>I wonder at its cruelty.
Some imaginative things here, continuing with this artificial beauty theme that recurs in the poem. I can't take it seriously though, for the same reasons that I can't take velcro angels seriously. It's just forced, and ultimately within the context of the poem, unsatisfactory/unearned.

Also, it is important to note that the enjambment seems arbitrary. Which is tiresome, because people do look for some reasoning behind your choices in this regard, when they don't find it they lose faith in the poem quickly.

So, some there is some superficial novelty here, because you use some odd, seemingly self-constructed wordplay here, but I don't think it amounts to good poetry in this case.

Honestly though man, I don't know why you needed that much detail. Do you think you're a great poet or something? Nearly everyone who posts here deserves some criticism. You should take away a couple pointers, accept how people react to your shit, and come back with something new. And who have you critiqued to deserve this much attention??

[Anonymous No.9435067]

>>9435023
I was just asking man. I'm sorry I frustrated you by asking?

[Anonymous No.9435089]

>>9435067
Critique someone else, make my contribution worth it.
And stop being defensive. I'm only frustrated that you asked for a lot while contributing so little.
As I said in an earlier post, posters who don't critique are the bane of these threads. Don't be lazy.

[Anonymous No.9435130]

>>9435089
/thread

[Anonymous No.9435132]

>>9435089
When I posted there was one other poem (i don't crit prose because I rarely write it)

[Anonymous No.9435167]

>>9435132
What part of stop being defensive don't you understand?

And do critique the prose, just make it clear you don't write prose yourself. Do you ever read prose? If so, then you are qualified to give feedback. I get my friends who don't write whatsoever to give me feedback all the time. Stop. Being. Lazy.

And regardless, there are poems now in the thread now. So, before you type out another redundant defense of your lazy bullshit to me, please critique one of those poems or leave the thread.

[Anonymous No.9435291]

>>9435167
I have no interest in critiquing prose, but im sorry i haven't contributed yet (wanted to do so on a computer)

thanks for giving me something to look at, try to not get so mad when someone asks you why you have vague feelings about their work. sometimes they just genuinely want to know

and yes I think i'm pretty good (greats a bit weird to call yourself)

>>9433575

>Woke up had a smoke did my dance and >drank my coke
>Drive my car
>Dont go far

The rhythms in this are really weak (which is super important when trying to put hip-hop on a page)

it scans (the whole poem) like this '= stressed
- = unstressed, / = new foot ,C = caesura

L1: >Woke up had a smoke did my dance and drank my coke

- '/ - - '/ - - '/ -'/ -'

L2: >Drive my car
' - '

L3: >Dont go far
' - '

L4: >Im burning out this star.
- '/ - '/ - '

L5:I'm going crazy, and i dont know if its fine
- '/ -'/ -C'/ - '/ ' -/ -' (the caesura (crazy, and) here does not work

L6: >im going crazy, and it feels so sublime
- '/ -'/ -C'/ - '/ - - ' (same and the change in rhythm hurts the rhyme a lot)

L7: >At my bread, did my chore.
Is 'at' a typo?
- - '/ - - '

L8: >I felt the bore
- '/ -'

L9: >Took my time, im feeling fine
' - '/ - '/ - '

L10: >should i smell that dandelion ?
this lines real bad, both mechanically and in actual content
' -/ ' -/ ' -/ ' -

L11: >Where to go?
- - '

L12: >no one knows
- - '

L13: how it goes
- - '

L14: >it flows
- '

L15: >I took the last train home and stopped at misery lane.
- '/ - '/ ' -/ - '/ - '/ - - '

L16: >Everythings different, but why does it feel the same?
gotta be honest, this one is hard for me to scan
' - '/ ' -/ - '/ ' -/ ' - '

L17: >Am i going insane?
' -/ ' -/ - '

L18: >Woe, am I to blame?
this is your worst line rhytmically (and the grammar feels tortured and out of place)
'C- '/ - '

L19? : >fast world slow brain high five short skirts brown yurts
this one is also both hard to scan and parse due to lack of punctuation. an I genuinely don't know why its here
' -/ - '/ ' -/ ' -/ ' -

Disregarding rhythms (which are all over the place and need cleaning) this piece has too many line that are just saying what you should be trying to make use feel

>I'm going crazy, and i dont know if its fine
>im going crazy, and it feels so sublime
these are really tell-y in a bad way

>I felt the bore
>Took my time, im feeling fine
tell-y again

>should i smell that dandelion ?
cliche

The real frustration (as obvious by how much time i spent on it) is the rhythms though. You almost build some very interesting ones but just stop halfway through on everything giving the whole piece the worst case of feeling jerky.

[Anonymous No.9435380]

>>9434554
I agree this hits awkwardly
>Ears are listening -
this part just sounds sill

>to be together, but
this feels very, very weak as its own line

>I’m barely past the drinking age.
awkward way to give the age of the narrator

>7 years on
>watching cityscape processions waft along;
legitmately good use of rhyme in free verse, but the following lines go a bit to far in that direction
>from those coal chimney stacks.
>My heels clacking
right here sounds weird out loud, the sonics are hurting you

>5 years on
>he won’t stop crying
>but I do love him.

this almost hits the mark you obviously want it to, but it feels too insubstantial

>
9 years on
>a bottle of red,
>some finger food,
>maybe that cheese later on.

fairly solid stanza, if you were keeping one in total, it'd be this one for me

[Anonymous No.9435514]

>>9435291
I'm the anon that was giving out to you. Thanks for contributing. You know I love you, right?

[Anonymous No.9435536]

>>9435514
It's fine, I'm usually the one that yells at people, but I was holding off today (and you got me)

[Anonymous No.9435642]

>>9434554
I actually enjoyed this. Could probably use some re-writing, but conceptually it's sound and the imagery and diction were good enough. "Ears are listening-- watch out" is kind of weird to me, though. Don't really understand its purpose, either.

>>9433537
Not good in the slightest

>>9433452
>on the side of it's branding
>it's branding
>it's

Couldn't make it past the first part, my youth. I thought it was boring mate.


Pic is an interlude in a series of loosely related short stories that chroncile the lives of a handful of jaded, purposeless undergraduates living in the same dormitory hall. It's meant to comment on the psychological products of 'disordered' living, especially among the youth and high-achieving.

[Anonymous No.9435790]

>>9433316
I'm not sure what you're trying to achieve so I can't say whether or not you achieved it. It's an interesting style, but it might be worth taming a little, at least for the sake of plot and direction

>>9433537
>antidote
anecdote surely?

Very overwrought and clumsy, anon. You can write better than this, I'm sure.

>>9433539
Far too vague and insular

>>9433575
Reads like a poor pop song

THE PLANT MAN
https://pastebin.com/juWfQ6mi

[Anonymous No.9435805]

first paragraph of short story. worried it's too 'purple':


A late-March snow had fallen three days earlier and through its wake Mike Jackson, despising every step, walked to work. Day break brought a shining warm morning and bright sun beamed down on everything from a cheery blue sky. On Mike's path vivid red brick sidewalk peaked out in bursts from beneath the squishy, melting snow. Water dripped off the top of bus-stop coverings, trickled in shining lines down to the ground from the roofs of houses and sheds he walked past. Tiny streams ran hugging the curbs of sidewalks into storm drains in a glittering flow while a breeze blew gently, gathering up a briskness from the cool, wet snow still covering most of the ground. Birds sung in sweet and sharp trills and the sun bathed the back of Mike's neck in warmth as he reluctantly took step after step forward.

[Anonymous No.9435812]

>>9435805
>A late-March snow had fallen three days earlier and through its wake Mike Jackson, despising every step, walked to work.

It's a bit too flat for an opening in my opinion, try
>A late-March snow had fallen three days earlier and through its wake Mike Jackson, despising every step, moonwalked to work.

[Anonymous No.9435905]

>>9435812
kek. i just made up meaningless placeholder name and didn't even realize that implication.

[Anonymous No.9436002]

Late Reply, sorry anons.

I trade in my Piece
>>9433452
>>9433458
>>9433463

For these Critiques

>>9431831
Certainly paints the setting of black in the hood and their everyday meanderings. Looks messy though, this formatting. Hard to read, and just as >>9432252 said it certainly looks like a copypasta when embeded in that style. The prose structure is admirable at times, but then trips over itself in clumsy flow such as "Each record like a slice of the cosmos pressed on wax, transporting him to places far beyond the rust-coloured streets and the sweltering, swollen cities, and up past the clouds and the blue of the sky."

>>9433316
I'm porbably too dumb to figure this out, but it seems like a very psycadelic image you're forming here, I don't know if I ilike it, but it seems interesting. The language certainly has a "spice" to it with sentences such as "been bamboozled another by that moonslinging son of a whip-crack". Each segment is a line of poetry leading to the other, like a constant slideshow of various imagery, it actually seems pretty artistic, but then again, don't mind me, just an amatuer here, I wouldn't know proper literature if it hit me in the face.

Oh and >>9434525
I'm a writer anon, validation is all I crave :) , but you're write, I still needed to critique someone's work. And so here they are.
Sorry everyone. I tried to critique >>9431824
but who was I kidding, one word sentences were just an excuse to get the "Please critique others before or after posting your own work" thing out of the way, and I didn't even really do that, more like a back-handed comment aiming for the obvious, and it seems
>>9431831
>>9432040
>>9432089
already did that before me. Again, sorry for my dishonnor, anons. I hope to do things in more noble intent in the future.

[Anonymous No.9436011]

>>9436002
And here's another piece in case you're interested:

The snow did little to douse the melancholy driblets of these trembling feelings. The grey pavement soaked it all in like a napkin, as was all other things in this husk of a city.
All women suck; that was the conclusion of the evening, a sore answer birthed from the wombs of wounded eyes. If one was to get turned down indirectly, is that any more pathetic than getting turned down face-to-face?
Well the pavement didn’t mind either way. Drink it all up, bud, you and everything else in this city. Lifeless tears form lifeless puddles; the ever-turning drones of lost hope, false starts, and dead-end nine-to-five shifts. It’s all you were ever good for.
But then, so was I.
The streetlamps barely lit the long block home, and here I was looking like I jumped out a pool, face full of water, and cameo all drenched. Professionalism was overrated anyway, I mean, who spends all their high school years on a single chick, and then on the last night before graduation turns you down for some roid-monkey she barely met at a party a week ago. Is chivalry so dead nowadays? Why aren’t my efforts recuperated?
“That’s what you get for trusting her,” I mumbled again, like I was speaking a mantra in the third person, reaching for that ill-fated nirvana only a soreness like mine could hope to replace.
God, I’m pathetic.

[Anonymous No.9436160]

Without exception, Ricolo Fury was the least remarkable thing that ever passed before my eyes. Light had long corrupted the curtains of my hotel-room and I, erect in my ruffled bed, read the morning headlines. Tapping at my door, Fury arrived. On my command, he entered; with a plump and sunken face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a walrus, he moved his fat form into the room and presented it to me, as a cat a dead bird to his master.

[Anonymous No.9436279]

My first 5, double-spaced pages. I'm currently submitting this story (which is finished and has been revised) to agents, but have been getting nothing but rejections. Hoping someone can point out something shitty about my prose or voice that I can fix. Please, be as brutal as you want.
I'll review whatever anyone who replies to this later, so long as it isn't crazy-big or anything.
Oh, also, inner dialogue isn't in italics because pastebin

My hook: Grace is a prostitute living in the world's largest city until she flees with a former client, a female spellcaster who has stolen a sword infused with the soul of a death-row murderer.

https://pastebin.com/4KvFB0dA

[Anonymous No.9436298]

TRIPTYCH TO THE DEAD

1.Aurora Borealis

They come, wild knights,
And their sword's dance.
'tween shine and burn,
Women whine, six-sided ice,
To be able to throw their children
To the sublime.

2. Prestissimo

The figurants are dead;
Pirouette, as if flight.
With lyric's knight's jump
Which have ended the ballet.

3.Xibalba

Cold, alien steel,
Decorates their bodies.
Preserve them, written stars,
Be as if you were honey.

[Anonymous No.9436314]

FRIENDLY REMINDER TO CRITIQUE BEFORE OR AFTER POSTING

[Anonymous No.9436319]

>>9436314
My critique of this post: best ITT

[Anonymous No.9436323]

>>9436298
>sword's dance
Please tell me this is meant to be possessive and dance is as a noun.

[Anonymous No.9436342]

>>9436160
>Without exception, Ricolo Fury was the least remarkable thing that ever passed before my eyes.
Feels really awkward. YA-like almost.
>Light had long corrupted the curtains of my hotel-room
Drop the had.
>and I, erect in my ruffled bed, read the morning headlines
That erect is making this have two meanings. I like it.
>Tapping at my door, Fury arrived. On my command, he entered; with a plump and sunken face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a walrus, he moved his fat form into the room and presented it to me, as a cat a dead bird to his master.
Delete: that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a walrus,
Delete: to his master.

>>9436323
Yeah. Possesive sword's, dance a noun. Not "and their swords dance" (the swords aren't dancing, it's the dance of the swords.)

[Anonymous No.9436345]

>>9434805
>>9435380
>>9435642
Thanks for the feedback, I submitted it my Uni's local poetry compilation that they do annually, I was reading the entries from last year and they were all quite modern or minimal in style, so I was trying to create something similar. So the awkwardness probably comes from it not really being my style, I normally don't write like that.

[Anonymous No.9436401]

>>9436279

I'll be severe since you want to sort this piece of writing out

>Grace snapped the round...
Far too many adjectives in this paragraph. For the last sentence consider connecting the two clauses with "and". At the moment it reads clunkily

>She studied her crew...
Far too much going on in the first sentence. Remove "studied" and reconstruct the sentence around that.
"Healer-prescribed protection against sexual diseases." is far too unwieldy.

>Just one night...
"lest the" seems an unusual turn of phrase for a prostitute

>As Grace's crew of prostitutes...
Crew of prostitutes? It seems far more appropriate to say "Grace's girls". Again, in keeping with Grace's likely tone, as well as making it simpler and less on-the-nose.

>Banish it all...
Not sure what the meaning of this first cumbersome sentence is

>Still, she had...
"fellow brothel workers" pic related. It's awkward.

>With a cringe...
I would use "Cringing, ..."
Grace's primary emotion seems to be "cringe". I counted at least 3 instances of this. Flesh out her character. Make her more believable


I'll stop here because my criticisms so far apply generally to the piece in derivative forms.

Overall I think the tone is way off. This is a story about prostitution, but everything is written in a very dry, mechanical way. I'm not saying you need to sex it up, but make it more naturalistic. More real. It reads like you're writing about prostitution as someone who has never encountered a prostitue. That is most likely and hopefully true, but your job as a writer is to sell it.

Now do me:
>>9435790

[Anonymous No.9436405]

>>9436401
"Pic related" was supposed to be this

It's you, the writer, trying to fill the mould of a prostitute

[Anonymous No.9436497]

This excerpt details how an Airforce soldier, furious, storms into a lawyers office and demands a controversial advertisement be taken off the air. They are in the midst of a heated argument.

"Ah, damn it. This shit again." The lawyer reluctantly half opens the door and before he can finish the motion an Airforce soldier bursts in.

The look of the man was one of anger, and resentment. The lawyer tried to be conciliatory at first. He didn't want to cause any trouble. But the soldier was furious. He knew the man was upset over an advertisement, one that had been extremely successful for the lawyer.
The soldier immediately confronts the lawyer.

"You lied to me. You lied to my face, and I'm not going to let you get away with it."

The lawyer thought he could defuse the situation.
"Look, I know there was maybe some sort of misunderstanding, but no one was hurt? right? Why not let this go?"

The soldier was indignant.
"No, no I'm going to tell you what's going to happen. You're going to take the ad off the air, and if you play that ad one more time I'm gonna go to the judge advocate and we'll take you down. Trespassing, false representation, stolen valor, the whole nine yards."

The lawyer was shocked. "Seriously?" He questioned him. "For eight seconds of a T.V. commercial?"

The soldier didn't budge, steadfast in his fury. "You take that ad down, or there will be hell to pay. That clear enough for you?"

The lawyer looked at the soldier. He debated internally about his next move. Then, he said it.
"Make me."

The soldier looked surprised. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Make you?"

"Yeah, lets do this, you bring your commander down here and explain to him how you led us on to the base, red carpet treatment!"

The soldier stuttered a bit "Y-You lied your way in!"

"Not how I remember it! and I've got witnesses to back me up-- you like being an Airforce captain huh? You think the U.S. wants to bring action against an old man in a wheelchair?"

The soldier looked incredulous.
"He was standing on T.V.! He wasn't even in a wheelchair!"

The lawyer had gained momentum. "Yeah, well periodically he is, and when he shows up in court you better believe he'll be in a wheelchair!"

The soldier relented.
"Yeah because you're an ambulance chasing piece of shit, 'cause you're all the same you're all--"

Then the lawyer opened the door for the soldier to leave, and it was clear how the cards lie.

[Anonymous No.9436518]

“I don't see why you insist on this detour,” Remeron chittered, “a magic knife hardly seems worth the effort.”

Will glowered at the rodent perched on his shoulder and resisted the urge to lay face-down in a greenish scum puddle until his lungs had thoroughly alginated. Exactly what kind of rodent Remeron was had been an unsettled matter that Will never bothered to ask. His education had come to a close after middle school, and the distinction between mice and rats had never proven particularly relevant in his day to day life, but given the critter's use of diction he figured that four more years of biology lessons in an underfunded classroom would not have given an answer that was all that satisfactory.

“Look,” he grumbled, grumbling being the least vulgar means of communication he could manage without adequate preparation, “you're the one who said I'm destined to slay the ever-loving shit out of The Rat That Walks. Since generally speaking you don't need a chosen one to do something that can be solved with a spoon of peanut butter, patience and a brick, I think it would be the least retarded course of action to have some kind of ancient weapon on hand – you know, just in case something called The Rat That Walks turns out to be a squeaking abomination from the dumpster behind the Fudrucker's of eternal perdition!”

His breath spent, Will marched on through the humid tunnels beneath the skin of the city. When he had stepped over the service gate at the end of the subway station the walls had been little but sheared bedrock and supportive girders, but past the impossibly-angled off-branches that had led him into the heart of the verminlands they had gradually been replaced with curtains of whispering pipes, each made of a different metal he somehow doubted could be assembled from the contents of a periodic table. Despite hearing and distinguishing the thousands of chittering voices, Will's temper began to cool down. They were quiet enough after all, and none were directed at him. Maybe if the world could just leave him alone long enough, the years of shit-fit residue would work its way out of his system, and he could have a shot at being an agreeable person. Yeah. He liked the sound of that.

“I still don't think this worth your while or mine.”

Will slammed his leg into a steam pipe and spent several moments hissing with spittle at the pain of a broken toe.

[Anonymous No.9436570]

>>9436497

Very dialogue intensive. Could use some more descriptive aspects. The dialogue is excellent, though.

[Anonymous No.9437000]

Not writing but just an idea

23 years ago most major food manufacturers began using an ingredient. Naturally it sailed through the FDA with little testing. Then a scientist or something figures out that the ingredient is deadly and takes 25 years to kill you. It's a book that follows a bunch of people through a world where everyone you meet knows their expiration date. that's the name of the book, "expiration date".

[Anonymous No.9437258]

A man's internet history:

11:15 Anger Management
11:15 Help with anger
11:16 Apologize for Anger
11:18 How to make your dog less afraid of you

[Anonymous No.9437295]

>>9431839

Don't use "like" as a conjunction. It looks and sounds terrible and should be confined only to speech. Instead, replace every instance of "like" with "as though" or "as if."

[Anonymous No.9437305]

>>9437295

Every instance of "like" as a conjunction, that is.

[Anonymous No.9437389]

>>9437295
>>9437305
Sorry anon, but let's stay friends. I just don't as if you as though that.

[Anonymous No.9437582]

methinks you be up to something fowl
torturing poor burrito this a’way
his soul must be free from your dirty scowl
and be sent up to high heaven without delay
death-purge the wrap, but without your clamps
feed the ouroboros something divine
and ready up those “good boy!” stamps
what are we real human beans or little swine?
government lads and blue bloods pour some beer
down on the fresh daisies blooming like crazy
whenever poor burrito with tasers you go near
so stop! you very much must mister, relax and be lazy!
whatever you do will be done upon you that’s true
let poor innocent burrito swim in the river so blue

its an inside joke, this guy sends me pages of him torturing a burrito (we nicknamed this dude burrito) and i'm trying to get him to stop cause it's fucked up

[Anonymous No.9437587]

>>9437582
one time I opened the burrito's room
I let it move into the cupboard and have a small bed
it was listening to music
"Ra ra Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen"
it was dancing under a napkin tent so that I would not find it
I said "How dare you listen to your favorite burrito music, by yourself in your room at a reasonable volume, and dance by yourself?"
It said "squee" when I removed its napkin tent, and attempted to conceal its burrito iPod in its kleenex bed
I told it it was bad and that its privileges had been revoked
I removed it from the cupboard and burned all its special toys and favorite things
I flushed its bed down the toilet
it was watching and saying "wah, wah"
I told it this was its fault it and it said wah louder
I got a lighter and burned its tuck place while I held it still. it yeed loudly and began to thrash around
I let it go and it lay scrunched together trying to nurse its burned tuck place. it made sauce on the counter
I got a spoon and spanked it. it was squeeing and trying to roll away, but I pinned it down with one finger. after that it was saying wah and making burrito tears.
I gave it a poke in the middle to cheer it up, and it said "hee!"
"see, burrito? that wasn't so bad. you can still be a happy burrito" I said, and I held it down with one hand and kept poking it while it said hee
then eventually it started saying "HEEEEEEE" really loud, and it started struggling hard
"not funny anymore, burrito? say sorry to me to make it stop", I said
it tried to say "sorry" but it could only say "moo". after a while it was saying "eeheeheehee" while I was poking it, but screaming "moo" over and over again to make me stop
I let it go and it hid behind the napkin dispenser
"Oh come on, burrito. I'm just trying to cheer you up", I said.
"Since you were such a good little burrito during your burrito discipline, I will let you have a piece of ice to make your tucky place feel better. would that be nice?"
It was still quivering and trying to nurse its tucky place, but it couldn't reach it because it is a fat little burrito
it poked its head out from behind the napkin dispenser hopefully and said "moo?"
I let it crawl over and place its burned tuck spot on the ice
It let out a little sigh of relief that sounded like "wew"

[Anonymous No.9437592]

>>9437587
I began to rub the ice on its tuck place. at first it liked it and said "wew... wew..." but then I rubbed harder. it became uncomfortable and started crawling away
then I picked the burrito up and twisted it. it made a big yee. then I twisted it again to make sure I got it crying. It started to wah
then I squeezed its head while I rubbed its tuck place with the ice. it tried to wriggle away, and I could hear a muffled "yee, yee, squee" coming from my hand as it tried to waggle its end away from the ice
but I rubbed it hard with the ice until it really yeed
then I went to get the burrito pincher. it started rolling away again when it saw the burrito pincher, but I made it sing "ra, ra, rasputin" and I pinched its burrito place whenever it got the words wrong. it is illiterate and does not know any of the words, and can only make cute, rudimentary sounds, so there was a lot of pinching. at the end it was covered in spicy burrito tears and shivering uncontrollably.
then I slammed the burrito against the counter until some refried beans came out and it passed out.
the funny thing about burrito is that burrito doesn't possess sexuality, so when it is penetrated, it just understands that something is inside it in a mean way, and it feels wrong, but it doesn't understand why. it only makes the burrito cry because it feels like it's being touched in a mean way, and it makes it sad that someone wants it to hurt, so it cries. and it feels naughty in a way it doesn't understand, so it makes it feel bad and scared.
that is a good punishment for an extra special burrito. I coaxed it around to being awake and then I shoved a baby carrot up the little tucky place where I hurt it. it began to blush and squirm. I was holding it down so it could not get away. It made sauce on the carrot.
I yelled at it, "Burrito, are you becoming sexually aroused? You are a very naughty burrito. Didn't I teach you higher values, you dirty little fuck loaf?"
Then I threw it in the freezer in a bowl of cold water and left, but before I did I stuck binder clips on its Burrito Teatos.

sorry for posting this, really sorry. just have to share my pain, you know.

[Anonymous No.9437615]

>>9437592
sorry but this was painful to read
>the funny thing about a burrito is that burrito doesn't possess sexuality

[Anonymous No.9437626]

>>9437615
don't say sorry man. it is painful. i didn't write it, my friend did, i just had to share it so i wouldn't have to suffer alone.

[Anonymous No.9437822]

can i post my short film?

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

[Anonymous No.9437850]

>>9436401
>>9435790
Thanks for the feedback, anon. Any advice on making one's writing come off as less dry as a whole?

Here's my thoughts on yours

>The Plant Man arrived early that morning at the piazza and took his usual place at the foot of the fountain. It was before daybreak
Condense to one sentence. "Early morning" and "before daybreak" is redundant as hell

>He fondled around his back
Fondle is an pretty damn awkward word

>He took then
Why this choice of phrasing? Why not just "he took"? The sentence is so long that it becomes disjointed.
Also, you use that phrase twice and start a sentence with "He took" two times in a row." Reads pretty awkwardly

>Some splashed lightly
Some sprinkled

>The Plant man felt himself
What does this mean? Is he running his hands over his body? Is he just more aware of his body? Needs expanding

>gasping for a moment the naked air
I can't wrap my head around what this means

>The smell of fresh bread wafted over and caressed his leaves but failed to tempt him.
I really like this line. Do more of this.

>Different, but the same.
Cliche as all hell

>A self-renewing, self-contained ecosystem
The word "ecosystem" doesn't fit the tone of the rest of this piece. Could use reworking

>He felt himself rooted in the soil
Idk what it is, but this just reads awkwardly.

>After a while, the soft moans of a mammal trailing off into the distance
The soft moans what? It's just a fragment sentence and doesn't fit the rest of the piece's grammatical tendencies.

Overall interesting, but language and sentence structure could use a bit of tightening. Best of luck with your work in the future.

[Anonymous No.9437852]

>>9437000
Ideas are cheap, anon. Go out there and make yourself write that story. Any idea can be done amazingly or horribly, and it's up to you to do it well.
That said, that's a pretty interesting hook. I'd read it.

[Anonymous No.9437855]

>>9434610
>>9434816

Opening section seems a functional pastiche to me. I would urge you to try and push your own writing a little harder to try and find something fresh in the old. This style isn't really for me in general though, so perhaps I'm not the entirely the right person to give you feedback. Is there an audience for Poe imitators?

The section with the caterpillar is a little rough, with some awkward constructions and I think a couple typos.

There's too much text for me to comment on all of it, but:

>It wasn’t awfully instantaneous and, at first, I presumed it to be the blustering gale that caressed the carriage but the noises got louder...

>it wasn't awfully instantaneous
this seems awkward to me

>noises got louder
"got" louder rather than "grew" louder or something like that seems out of step with your pastiche to me.

There are a number of times I experienced similar awkwardness or inappropriateness within the text.

I'm not sure whether the issues with word choice/sentence construction in your story are a result of pressure from the style you are imitating, or more to do with issues with your writing more generally. Anyway, functional pastiche. Better than plenty of crap I have read on this site.

[Anonymous No.9437865]

>>9431167
We know

[Anonymous No.9437881]

>>9435536
Ah, I dunno if I got you. I don't have all that much faith in my ability to critique poetry. I do write some, but I'm a novice. Maybe there are elements to your poetry I can't appreciate. Had a listen to Hannah Diamond by the way, such sweet sorrow. She wrote it about me, right?

>>9437295
>>9437305
Good advice, actually. Thanks. I hadn't noticed that I was doing so. Although I find the more I think about those aspects of writing, the more my writing process suffers. Bit of a dilly of a pickle. S'why editors are needed. Thanks anyway.
As for: >>9437389
wut

[Anonymous No.9437885]

>>9437822
Some nice shots. Like, more promising than the average indie short.

[Anonymous No.9437908]

>>9431824
nice meme
>>9434554
seems quite awkward but if it was less chaotic would be cooler
>>9433575
sounds like a sad bandcamp song
>>9434549
it seems like from one side you want to describe her beauty, but then just call your fucking dick in vulgar words

I finally got the job. Pretty simple deskjob, probably a work of no importance for anyone. But
somehow it is needed. But this is not important for this piece of writing. What is important is the
window. The window, with the view at the parking lot. From this day, I will write what is happening
on the parking lot. The parking lot. Usually there are 20ish cars there, mostly those owned by
middle class, nothing interesting. Often some kid just runs through the lot to get to the nearby
school. But most of time nothing is happening there. At 6 AM the lot starts being populated by cars
and people start coming to their works. Probably the only important car is the car of the owner of
the whole place. Families do not park here, cause this is a bussiness related parking lot. Oh, did
I mentioned sometimes a cat runs away through parking lot, but there are no stray dogs. Probably
just a weird observation of mine, of course it maybe just exceptional situation that happened today
that there are no stray dogs. What may have caused such turn of events for those animals, nothing
forces them to stop getting on this quite average parking lot.
To sum stuff up, except for the stray dogs situation, this day probably was an average day on the
average parking lot.

[Anonymous No.9437919]

>>9437908
Clunky, oddly phrased, colourless.

[Anonymous No.9437975]

The chilling hoarfrost bit the tip of my nose like an insatiable Jack Frost swooping down from the clouds after an eternal hibernation, or more so the antithesis of one. Not much could be done about the dry, coagulating blood crust painting my upper lip and pain shot through my mustache every time I attempted to pick at it's scabbiness. Hearthmouth was only a few miles off, over the formidable mountain obstructing my path, although, boot camp back in 85' would help me traverse the monstrous boulder of a beast with no problem. The dropping temperatures are what worried me. Soon a rustle in a near by tree caught my attention. Something was lurking about back there, on the other side of this stone I'd propped myself against. My body trembled at the thought of overturning what was on the other side. Petrified and bone-chilled, I sat quietly... listening... waiting... wrapping my body with the warmth of my arms, unable to defend myself should some creature pounce over the top of me. "Panther?" I said aloud. Suddenly the wind mysteriously died down, the ambient silence settled like the last shifting of an avalanche. My eyes burned at the sight of naturally groomed white surrounding my cozy hiding spot. Then... the rustle again. This time closer. Much closer. I mustered up the strength to grasp the stone head and pull my self over for a peak. Surprisingly, my eyes met the gleaming pupils of a trundra jackrabbit. It stood unwavered except for its fluttering nose, which mesmerized me for a few seconds before RRWWAAARRRR... and that's how I lost my arm. Still don't know what ripped me ol' socket out. Something livin' out back in the boonies of the far reaches of Hearthmouth...

[Anonymous No.9438211]

>>9437855
Thank you so much! Yeah I'm still in the process of editing this but I finally finished the first draft. Honestly I'm just trying out new styles and for my genre fic classes, I chose gothic and ya haha

Yeah I need to look at some of the word choices/make it much more modern in the world and I'll have a look at the whole caterpillar thing because I realise it kinda gets discarded after a few paragraphs further into the piece.

Again, thank you so much

[Anonymous No.9438242]

Already posted here but I'll critique yours.

>>9436518
I don't know what "alginated" means, but I guess it's to become like algae, at least that's what I got from it, so it fits I suppose, still weird though.
The first two paragraphs are clear (to a point).
The joke in the second paragraph didn't hit me because it went on for too long, and the language and setting became kinda jarring ( is he some kind of modern day hero in a medieval fantasy land or something? Or is this just "rough language in this world", because it seemed a little modern.)
The third paragraph lost my attention. Maybe it's the boring description (in my opinion), or the lack of flow, I don't know, but it killed it for me there.

Here's mine.

The coarseness of the ride was more than X’amad could bear. The old warrior was not familiar with the flying vessels of steel that his captors had driven. Humming engines doused the merciful g-force split in his ear as the ship took off into outer space. One could only pity the poor soul to have been encased in ice for over ten thousand years to have finally heard real sound once again, and it all came rushing into his ears like splitting earth.
“Cease this foolishness!” he cried, two hands walling what was left of his eardrums. He was an alien to them, and his concerns were treated as such, or perhaps, like aliens, they didn’t know him any better, and so he curled, and hoped to the presence of his father that he could be relieved of the ignorance striking him raw. He curled like an infant, as sure as was the first birth of his day; for in that succour of the womb, only then could he find his peace.
“Someone tie him up!” said the female of his captors. There was a whole team of them; three men, and two women, but one, he recalled, was lost to his previous captors when they freed him from the old temple.
Temple? He thought; the word returned to him like the hushed sooth sayings of a mother’s old nursery rhyme. He indeed remembered he was held captive at some temple at some far off planet; the result of banishment most likely, or a fall from the graces of a high society too long ago to have ever been recalled, even for him.
Which lead to the next hollowed question. Who am I?
“Brace yourself for impact!” said the female captor, holding onto dear life for the braces of her steel buckled chair. The whole ship convulsed with the trauma of a blow to the head, the bridge was bleeding into hyper space; computers and wires being sucked out through various points of cracked windshield covering the view of outer space.
“Set lockdown!” said a male captor of his, darker skinned than the rest of them pale faces. Shutters of steel wrought low on the open gush of space, one of the captors was disembowelled by the late intrusion.
“Jeffery!” the female called out.

[Anonymous No.9438575]

>>9438211
No problem. Caterpillar thing is a nice idea, just needs rephrasing in my opinion.

Good luck.

[Anonymous No.9439278]

>>9436497
That's a scene from better call saul with some dialog changes

[Anonymous No.9439294]

>>9438242
I guess I should make the setting more clear. Hes a modern hero but the fantasy world he's in, which sort of overlaps with the real one is kind of steampunk or magepunk

Ill crit you when I can. Today is damn busy for me

[Anonymous No.9439365]

>>9435167
I'm not involved in your discussion, but after reading through the thread, I felt the need to point out that you're being way more defensive than he is. He just asked for specifics and you wrote out this long, blow-by-blow account, and then got mad at him after because you went to so much trouble. Get some self-awareness before you start criticizing others.

[Anonymous No.9439736]

Been working this out for a year now. Not sure if it's print worthy, but here it is anyway (please rate):

Her pee pee went around his pee pee, hers was wet and warm but his was cold like ice but not anymore because they were inside each other, her ass now inside his cock.

He gingerly puts his fingers like a peace-sign up her nostrils and bites her ear to show dominance. This causes her to start farting uncontrollably inside his cock, tickling him.

"Hehe" he says.

She starts shitting in his penis.

[Anonymous No.9440361]

>>9439365
lol

[Anonymous No.9440647]

>>9435167
10/"10"

Smart, sassy, razor sharp, and cuts that dummy apart at the joints.

[Anonymous No.9441002]

>>9440647
hey, this dummy has feelings.

[Anonymous No.9441485]

>>9431266
>neon garden lights of pink and teal.

sounds weird. Just say pink and blue (? idk wtf teal is) lights.

as I am rather catlike myself, I stopped there

[Anonymous No.9441489]

https://pastebin.com/raw/Smt3xf2T

[Anonymous No.9441490]

“Why can’t you remember your Shakespeare and forget the third-raters. You’ll find what you’re trying to say in him- as you’ll find everything else worth saying. 'We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep.''

- 'Fine! That’s beautiful. But I wasn’t trying to say that. We are such stuff as shit is made on, so let’s drink up and forget it. That’s more my idea."

[Anonymous No.9441559]

engine oil profiles
an overworked rhombus
miles of mindful jackalopes
numbskull flag-fingers
and dirging fire-eaters.

million red tongue warehouse
turn me in
lilting piles of alabaster
running past the pyrenees
freudian werewolf
stab the diamond
undermine the neighbor’s pool
overtake less sandbags
be me for a change.

there will be darkness
then there will be light
i’ll be up there writing the code.

[Anonymous No.9441595]

>>9441559
code fluid

engine oil profiles
an overworked rhombus
miles of mindful jackalopes
these are all true
numbskull flag-fingers
and dirging fire-eaters,
you are an eye warmer.

million red tongued warehouse
turn me in
lilting piles of alabaster
running past the pyrenees
freudian werewolf blues
stab the diamond
undermine the neighbor pool
sandbag tongue kiss
and polio dance beat.

there will be darkness
then there will be light
i’ll be up there writing the code.

fructify these lounge lizards
beat speed with power
open your eyes to grey biscuits
bathing stupidly in stacks of moonbooks.

the code is clear water
the code knows about 7 truths
truce in cosmic reality code
code for your deadbeat banana
a little bit of cookie code
river code and rock code
yellow eater zen code
ruby man june code
yes code yes no code
announcement baby code.

fixed it up a bit.

[Anonymous No.9441971]

>>9439365
>>9440647

You guys have anything to critique? I jumped to conclusions. Gimme a break.

You guys are proof that these threads attract plenty of people who are more interested in showing someone up than anything.

I, while in the wrong, was at least pissed about something common and legitimate.

>>9441002
Sorry dummy.

[Anonymous No.9442575]

Just a short one, the opening to a short story that is rapidly spiralling out of my control.

>Space was an anarchy that devoured good intentions. In this case, a decree written for the protection of non-spacefaring species that sought to prevent exploitation through blanket prohibition on interference in their affairs had, unfortunately, prohibited the kind of interference that would have prevented their nuclear suicide attempt. By the time that discussion had stalled in the Contact Council and the United States declared its intent to take unilateral action there were already ICBMs in the air on Steon 58P4IT. Everyone could have been saved; instead, international law prevailed. Eventually a handful of non-government organisations were permitted to lend aid. Red Cross shuttles touched down in the shattered, radioactive capitals of a once-vibrant industrial civilisation. A few days later, a multinational taskforce was established. Donations flooded in. Even in the poor, scattered colonies on the rim of human space hearts ached for the galaxy’s newest tomb world. It was a touching gesture, but it did not erase the fact of collective paralysis and inaction. New protocols would be written to prevent similar disaster, and only succeeding in failing in novel, equally disastrous ways. In the end all that could be said was that people were only as good as the world allowed them to be.
>Ethan John Smith was a young man whose life had not allowed him to be very good at all.
and blah blah blah into the story.

It's more set-up than I'd like but the short story is conceived as an essay. The opening paragraph you just read forms the intro to the argument. I want to explain to people why our world (the one that we live in right now, the current international climate) is the way it is. Why does it fail so many people? Why do bad things happen that nobody does anything about? I want to go into more depth than just "shit's fucked" and actually explain the international political mechanics that drive the creation of systems that so often are paralysed or inactive when they are needed most.

Basically, I want to write a defence of the United Nations as both morally righteous in principle, and the best that the world allows in practice.

In that context, what do you think of the intro?

[Anonymous No.9443931]

New to writing........


>>9431831
Like it alot. Good musical choices too


>>9433537
Didn't get maybe I am not as deep as you though...
An old ruler is dying. There was much toil and darkness in his eyes. He had done and seen too much. His mind was enfeebled and his eyes remained unable to look upon world; he can only dream of it now.


In his youth he had slaughtered countless people. Warriors of unending might, assassin of all different sorts, dragons of greed or evil, bold visionaries who hoped to change the worlds for good, demons bent on madness and destruction, wise men who wish to spread their knowledge to the world, young heroes with great potential, damsels in distress, a sea of children, close friends, lovers, his entire family; he had slaughtered them all. All in God's name.


As he obtained Total power in his latter years as a tyrant, he committed himself first to the oppression of all things that would challenge his rule. He had to rule the world. This meant constant conquest. Although there were major roadblocks to the entire rule of all reality he maintained an powerful position compelling all nations to fear and respect to him and most importantly god. However he never understood why god would ask of him to become a tyrant. For he did not receive pleasure from his actions nor did he engage in any of the spoils(aside from a few lovers); if god would have commanded him to be a hermit with all of his soul he would have committed to the journey. He never questioned his fate for he was a strong believer and refused to commit the sin of trying to understand god. In front of him lies his greatest creations. Two sons of God formed form their struggle to reach the top and have earned their presence under his throne.


Thomas. The man in golden armor. The hero of the serpent wars. Celebrity among the duelers of the land. The champion of the people.following the saints footsteps for the last 10 years Thomas had conquered the far lands of desert and jungle. Now he bows in hopes for a new land to remake in God's image.


Ronald. The leader of the priests. Second only to the saint. His mind has done good work. Transcribing all of God's law into the words of various lands, maintaining order within [placeholder], organizing the business to succeed in lands the military has not touched, so to prepare them for the future submission to God.


Both await the ruler’s slow passing away: It is there time now. His blind eyes peers into their futures; one eye for each son.


Far into the future below the steps of the grand throne as it weeps for its former master lies the funeral of the old saint. The greats of the world huddle together as brothers and sisters in remorse, while the whole world lies in silent pause. The sending of the saints soul to the heavens and the welcoming of a new saint begins. The future fates of the newly appointed saints Ronald and Thomas diverge here with prayer.

[Anonymous No.9444204]

>>9441595
http://vocaroo.com/i/s09mkk4ShlY2

i set it to my friend's music, what do you guys think?

[Anonymous No.9444506]

bump

[Anonymous No.9445196]

toast toast i have to boast about my doggy dang roast gimme dat host preach immabout to do the most slurp that wine aint that fine blood of the son of man, stan? yeah he keeps his nose outta the plants but me i like the weeedz hahaha i'm an overmedicated zomboid hahahahahahaha

[Anonymous No.9445333]

>>9443931
There's no flow or vibrancy in the prose of the first two paragraphs, in my opinion it was rather bland, but I get the picture you're trying to portray.
"an powerful" is a mistake.
I get the image of a grand sweeping epic about religion and fantasy lands being conqured by it, but the writing is so lackluster in my opinion it ends up looking generic and flavourless, maybe the dead stop fullstops is what keeps it jarring, and devoid of good flow. Needs major work. The throne "weeping" part was the only thing that saed it for me. Good try though, build up that lore. I can tell you're inspired to :)

------------------------------------------------------------
The moon glared into the golden ball room, a hive of diamonds and dancers twirling and spinning in a lake of white marble. The night soothed into the tip - tap of lords and ladies, beggars and kings, scholars and fools all floating in the melodious jamboree of a no-tomorrow. The silver draped low with the sparkles of chandeliers. The servants flowed in and out the kitchen like a rigorous river. And there, last of all, standing out from a crowd of hopeless bachlorettes, was the Prince himself. His face was so sparkly bright that one couldn’t dare seem him smirk without blinding themselves first.
Confusion was the first thing that went through Elvira’s head. Where she was, where she ought, or where she had to be. A dream – it had to be, something this extravagant didn’t belong to nobodies like her, especially to a second-hand noble, or an “upstart” as she was so often called. But here she was, trapped in the heat of the moment, everyone passing her by as if she were a ghost.
Then he noticed her; eyes widening blue, as vast as the oceans of the Glass itself. A storm of seething bachlorettes in his wake as he made the graceful descent from the tenure of high society, to be with this simple, high-minded girl too full of her own rocker to think she was deserving of him.
Elvira blushed, but did not find the strength in her wobbly knees, wobbling like pasta, to have the courage to run from his alluring presence, his mystique so vast and full of hushed secrets that there was an air of intrigue yet to unwrap in the very steps of his arrival.
When he had finally come, there was a short gap in-between them where his hand could’ve taken hers to kiss, as much as like all those empty-tongued flatterers among the courtiers. Yet, he did nothing. It was as if he held a certain respect for her that he did not reserve for the other girls, one only between them, as if long decided since the beginning of time itself. A fate wrapped in royal purple, in thorn’s crowning of the doom.
He cleared his throat; as course as leather, but as smooth as milk. “Can I have your-?”
And that’s when she woke up, as she had noted in her journals thirty-nine nights prior..

[Anonymous No.9446142]

>>9445333
I liked it. Well written and you described the scene in a way that everything seemed somewhat blurry to me, befitting of a dream

New to writing, but here's my try:

A sigh escaped the doddering cracked lips of Carter as he lay silently atop the decrepit bed he seemed to be spending more time on, silently vanishing into the abyss that was continually surrounding him. He placed his arms by his sides, which quivered as he pushed himself feebly into an upright position. Getting older. More of a struggle than last time. Not long now. Did I always lack strength? Moving furniture for mum, however long ago that was. Not strong, but not weak. Not anymore anyway. Pausing for a moment, Carter swung his legs haphazardly to the floor and used his quaking arms to force himself off the bed. Got some strength left in my legs at least. Not as much as before, of course. Running. Round the neighbourhood when I was young. Past the innumerable brick houses and past my aunts and my grandmothers and down to my friends’ houses. He trudged through the wooden hallway that extended past his bedroom doorway, placing each trembling foot carefully as not to fall. After taking a few steps, his leg gave out, plummeting him onto the oak below. So frail. Bones brittle. The milk I drank when I was young obviously hasn’t paid off. Back then with Stephen and the rest sitting in my little house and being rooted in front of the television sipping our milk from the octagonal glasses that my mum had bought from that shop down on the street near our house that had all those quaint boutiques that had fallen out of the changing taste of the public and been replaced with the larger stores with the storage warehouses and talking about the shows we were watching that only existed before they brought colour to the screens and joking and playing and laughing together with all of them - how happy I had once been. Carter’s fingers slid up the white plaster wall, passing over the dimples and scrapes and imperfections of the wall and grasping at the bannister he has installed along the wall he finally gained a handhold.

[Anonymous No.9446342]

>>9446142
Woah there friend. Not being harsh but it's very clear you're new to this. You're probably quite proud of what you wrote, and it's very brave of you to share it online already - but it really is quite bad.

You use too many words. You're mixing passive and active voices. You're mixing third and first person (Even if this is intentional, it's still bad). Your command of the English language is lackluster; there are quite a few words you use which don't make sense in the way you're using them.

It's not all terrible though. When you're not being indulgent with your language and you limit yourself to short, concise sentences, it's actually quite good. Unfortunately that's drowned out in the rest of it.

The best advice I can give is just to read more. The more you read, the better you write - that's a fact. Find an author you like, and as you read make a note in your head what the they're doing right. Learn to imitate their style and techniques, and as you keep writing you'll find yourself improving and developing your own unique voice. you'd be surprised how many of the greats start off like this.

There's no quick way to get good at it, but as long as you're determined and keep at it, you can only improve.

[Anonymous No.9446457]

>>9439736
Arousing
>>9433575
I'm assuming you're writing this for a song or something but if not- it's very vague and cliché and has little actual substance. Read more poetry and you'll figure it out.

Here's the beginning of a screenplay I wrote.

https://pastebin.com/DnMs2XJt

[Anonymous No.9447593]

I don't know if my English is good enough for this. Tried cracking down on the purple prose on a little bit but I feel like my writing is a roller coaster. Too short and dry at one part, and too flowery on the other.

[Anonymous No.9447596]

is anybody else writing in spanish?

[Anonymous No.9447607]

>>9442575
Sounds pretty interesting.
Made my heart break a little bit.

[Anonymous No.9447619]

How much backstory is too much? In planning, I seem to be adding in almost as much backstory as regular story.

[Anonymous No.9447646]

I will critique others in another post.


Prologue:
“Fuck,” he says, in between debilitating, body wracking coughs. He finally manages to croak out, “That’s some good weed .”
Whilst dragging his fingers through his dispersed ashy hair, he mindlessly sniffs at some nasal drip coming out. The mucous clotting in his right nostril, resisting the antagonization of gravity. He settles backwards into the large pseudo-suede armchair, letting it adjust to his asymmetrical architecture. The Smartmatter™ creating a low atmospheric buzz as the seat morphs around his form.
Drugs are his own personal diabolatry, the amoral rite he comprehensively fulfills upon waking. Glassware, empty prescription bottles, lighters, and baggies with red cartoon mushrooms on them form a diminutive jungle atop his coffee table.
A mysterious high pitched moaning suddenly begins to gestate. “Fuck me Dave, fuck me like you’ve never fucked before.” Dave, our very own stoner, begins to write around in the chair, shoving his arms underneath himself digging into the chair which creates holes for him as it adjusts to his touch. Like some fucked up fever dream, soon he is plunging into his recliner elbow deep while the sexual wails continue to assault his ear drums.
“Where the FUCK is my god damn remote!”
Finally, after more plunging and thrusting, he finds the hard-black phallus of the device enveloped within the folds beneath him.
He pulls out and activates the singular large button, “MUTE IT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.”
The sexual requests continue and a feminine voice chimes in, “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
“MUTE!”

Dead air lies over the living quarters and Dave silently laments over the molestation of his senses.

Weed, also known as “The Devil’s Lettuce,” is the pastime of the Unemployed, Unemployable, and Artists (What’s the difference between the three anyway?) everywhere.

Smartmatter™ was created by renowned entrepreneur Don Zizek in the year 2032, originally designed for use in Military Body Armor. However, Ikea quickly found a use for it in the form of self-assembling furniture. Gone are the days of unfathomable instructions designed by obsessive Swedes.

[Anonymous No.9447655]

>>9447646
fuck

the footnotes didn't fall over, should've figured.

The first one is after he says weed.

The second is after "Smartmatter™"

[Anonymous No.9447665]

>>9447646
Crit my short story so far and I'll return the favour

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1u9251jXBtqtbcFZoqVw4mg28LbfZwNvhotK_yzVBFWQ/edit?usp=sharing

[Anonymous No.9447695]

>>9447593
The 4th last paragraph is my favorite.
The phrasing seems a little odd for most of it however.
I'm not sure how to quite describe it other than it seems slightly out of order/not very straight forward.

I'd say try to show more then tell, and simple ways of describing things are often better rather then being convoluted.
For instance, "wooden construction with different kind of books on it," seems unnecessary in its description.

All that being said, I like some of the underlying ideas within your work and think you have some good themes going on, however the way you convey them has room for improvement.
>>9443931
I enjoy the way you write.
However there is a certain grandiosity to it that I feel could be hard to live up to with the rest of the story depending on where it goes.
I feel your style of writing would lend itself better to a graphic novel or perhaps to an auditory recording for a game even.

I'm not quite sure how you would go about changing that though.
>>9447665
I really enjoyed that honestly.

While your prose in of itself wouldn't keep me interested, it works quite well for the purpose of what the story seemingly is.
I can picture it quite well.
Left me wanting to read more.

My two critiques are the first paragraph seems a little odd worded and if it were made more "normal" as it were, the flow would be better.

My second is the immediate dismissal of the pink mass by the main character seems a little rushed and/or sudden, but I'm not sure where the story is going either so that may be a petty complaint.

[Anonymous No.9447699]

>>9447646
>dispersed ashy hair
>mindlessly sniffs
>asymmetrical architecture
>atmospheric buzz

I enjoy your more inventive use of adjectives, but I think you are in danger of overemploying them.

>Dave, our very own stoner, begins to write around in the chair, shoving his arms underneath himself digging into the chair which creates holes for him as it adjusts to his touch.

Perhaps too unwieldy a sentence. This applies in at least a couple of places.

>the hard-black phallus

Haven't decided whether or not I like this simile. I like the comic association with what's on screen but to some it might seen crass. I like crass though.

> the molestation of his senses
funny

>footnotes
You're in danger of being considered derivative of DFW

>Don Zizek
Kek

Okay okay now do me>>9447665

[Anonymous No.9447719]

>>9447665
Bob's Burgers did it

[Anonymous No.9447725]

>>9447719
Really? Shit. Link?

[Anonymous No.9447736]

>>9447719
Damn, you're right. I had more to say though. The retirement home was only a metaphor for something else.

[Anonymous No.9447738]

>>9447699
This was my critique
>>9447695

To expand on what I meant about the first paragraph
Instead of , "nothing more to hand than a small black suitcase and a university degree."
I would say, "nothing more than a small black suitcase and a university degree.
Basically some of the words and or phrases seem redundant or unneeded and it would read more smoothly if changed as such.

That's just my opinion though so take it with a grain of salt

I appreciate the critique, I'm going for a sort of Humorous approach to my story, though I do have themes, an overall plot, and the mildly futuristic setting in mind .

The adjectives are kind of my approach to being a little less derivative but I don't want to push it too far as to alienate the readers either.

You're definitely right that I could clean up a few sentences however.
I'm waiting to edit until I finish more. I'm very self critical and could spend an entire day on one page if I did that now.

As for the DFW comparison that's fine.
I quite enjoy them, whether it's in his, Pynchon, or even Danielewski's work to name the obvious.
And I think they lend quite well to the humorous atmosphere.

[Anonymous No.9447743]

>>9447725
Episode where the Belcher family goes to visit Linda's parents at their retirement home. Linda's parents are going to be kicked out of the community because they won't go to the "potlucks" and they have to go to a minimum amount. They're confused until Bob finds out that the potlucks are actually swinger parties. He has to help Linda's dad embrace his balloon fetish despite the fact that Linda's mom gets frightened by loud noises.

It's resolved when they take her hearing aid out. Linda's parents go to the potluck and get to keep their home.

I'm kind of just busting your balls though.

[Anonymous No.9447746]

>>9447736
Keep running with it, though. I like your writing.

Again, just busting your balls because someone has to keep up the toxic atmosphere we have going on this board, site, internet.

[Anonymous No.9447748]

>>9447695
Thanks. I wrote it in a depressive state of mind.
The tea conversation really happened by the way. Decided to take something real as a starting point,write that and then go off rails with it.

The weird phrasing is because of the language barrier I think. My thinking is English, but my native tongue still has an influence on my phrasing, since I talk/write in a very convoluted manner when I don't use English or German.

I intend to make it a bit surreal in later phases, if I get there.

Thank you for your constructive criticism again.

[Anonymous No.9447758]

>>9447738
That actually was the first sentence. I added "to hand" to fit in with the more verbose style I'd adopted in order to pad out the story. I wrote another version which was apparently too sparse and un-wordy so I'm trying to tow the line between the two.

If that's your first draft then I'd say that the issues you have will basically become nonissues on a re-write. People always tell me I overuse adjectives myself, but I always find that you get the most out of your imagery by using them - my critique is probably just an echo of their critique so don't pay me too much attention re/ that.

As for "alienating the readers" - that was almost DFW's modus operandi in a way, wasn't it? To make something simultaneously alienating but also enticing enough to want to read all the way through. I'd say you had succeeded in keeping my attention enough to read on. It also aids with the humour here, which I think you did a fine job of.

>>9447746
Thanks mang. I'll keep it up

[Anonymous No.9447822]

The door closed behind her as she left the cold unnatural comfort of her car’s air conditioning. She locked the doors and began her walk down the tree lined street. Cracked, uneven Los Angeles asphalt jutted slow and violent in either direction, every direction, piercing desert and replacing what was once dry chaparral with rows of grass, palm trees, and buildings that shouldn’t be there. She breathed the dry air, sand pouring down her throat into her lungs. The smell of the ocean salt was carried on the breeze. It was mixed in with the smog and soot of the city by time it got to her, but could still hint at how close the cool waters were to the hot concrete she walked on. She stepped in black flats against the sidewalk and she breathed unsatisfying breaths as heat radiated through the soles of her feet.

[Anonymous No.9447842]

>>9447822
Shit my nigga that's descriptive as fuck. Getting a real feel for the scene. Good shit. What era/time period is this?

This was a dumb thing I threw together in an hour and a half because the idea grabbed me. Rip me a new asshole: https://pastebin.com/FRp238NC

[Anonymous No.9448122]

>>9447842
>almost as relentlessly as
>searching for companionship in his own mind
maybe "searching for companionship in memories"
>with a rifle and a prayer
done to death. that horse is nothing but dust at this point. I would say a bloody pulp but I think all the moisture's been beaten out of it too at present moment.
>He was another body in a swarm of ants, crashing against another tidal wave of expendable bodies.
Stick to one metaphor maybe "He was a drop of water in an ocean of other soldiers, crashing against..."

honestly there have been so many fuckin books and stories written about WW2 that I don't understand why people even continue to try outside of what I assume to be mimicry. Again, horse, dust.

[Anonymous No.9448258]

>>9448122
WWII was just an excuse to get him away from her, but yeah I get you. I was taken more by the idea of a dude being so stricken with this chick he saw her in the sand and the sky and shit, rather than it being a war thing. I picked North Africa purely because I was playing Sniper Elite 3 earlier. I like to think the idea works in any theatre of combat, or similar such reason for taking a dude away from home.

Thanks again, anon.

[Anonymous No.9448283]

>>9448258
>>9448122
As a side note, man it is fucking impossible to get any kind of criticism out of friends and family. They refuse to give it nothing but praise.

"Wow, anon, that's so good! You're better than [Flavour of the month young adult author]!"

GOD DAMN IT WOMAN I NEED MY WORK RIPPED AND TORN BEFORE I CAN IMPROVE

[Anonymous No.9448296]

I been dun darn workin on this and would like some anon's comments on my doggun work. I've found that docs is a really good way for y'all fools to suggest edits and shit, fire away boys.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/13YfSoI0-OQiKTwyZYq1IyhSdJ5qL3XBJb0y4r5UHQoM/edit?usp=sharing

[Anonymous No.9448463]

bamping

[Anonymous No.9450406]

please don't die

[Anonymous No.9450444]

And in my dreams there is only the formative thoughts of my waking self.
They tremble back upon backward parts of myself and fall upon scrupulous
perusal of indignant embittered thought – pluck them -- one and oft another.
Compose their truths and enlighten me while I repose unconsciously in the dark.
I will wake unsure of dream or waking thought and in this confusion, mingle the two.

[Anonymous No.9451045]

Admittance to the Audubon Park Zoo is free on Wednesday mornings and so I had gone to see the elephants. It had been a long time since I’d been there, but when I was younger I would go almost every week. Their caretaker would lift me onto his tall shoulders and let me feed them straw over the railing. Back then, I didn’t like their names, so I gave them new ones.
That was almost ten years ago, and so I couldn’t be sure they were still alive. As I looked for the scar under Ruth’s eye, a school trip filed in and I stepped back to give them a better view. Her name, heard in the dying breath of a man I didn’t know, had reminded me to visit. I thought he’d been calling for his mother.
Most of the kids were horsing around, but some of them listened. Pointing to a baby, the zookeeper, who I didn’t know, told the class that compared with animals whose development mostly occurs during gestation, elephants need more time after they’re born before they’re fully grown; and that the lengths of a mammal’s separate life stages corresponded with different things about the grown-up. He said, that dumber animals normally reach adulthood during gestation, and come out of the womb as mindless objectifications of nature. Someone asked what that meant, but her teacher said to wait until after for questions.
He’d lost their attention, so he paused. Then, after a moment, he went on in a louder voice, saying that most smart animals, like humans and elephants, are born helpless and need protection, and that this paternal bubble of love, combined with how clever we are, allows us to grow taller, yes, but also to grow our minds and become individuals. A boy next to me raised his hand. The zookeeper winked at the teacher, saying that he wasn’t sure if this meant elephants had souls or not.
They moved on, but I stayed put, thinking about what he’d said. I had never thought about it that way - that our development could have a final purpose. Simple enough, I guess. But as I walked through the zoo, the idea really began to take root and its associations began to force all nature of thought to the surface.
Below, I have tried to re-capture both the story that, together with the zookeeper’s words, prompted my thoughts, and the ideas which sprung from their consideration.I pray I am able to convey what I intend, because the results of yesterday’s visit to the zoo have been, for me, revelatory. Even after the tragedy that, in its own way, had led me back to Ruth, I‘d never thought about leaving Louisiana. Now, god knows whether I’ll ever return.

[Anonymous No.9451114]

>>9450444
too many adjectives

[Anonymous No.9451244]

The day Tim moved in he cooked lunch and ate in the courtyard. He read out there in the sun until it died. Back in the kitchen he met Mary. She sat at the table, waiting.

‘Are they yours?’ She asked.

‘What?’

‘The dishes in the sink.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Please clean up after you cook.’

Tim and Mary lived in the same house at the same time for two years. The night before he moved out, Tim packed his things into boxes, while his girlfriend sat outside in the courtyard.

‘You woke me up.’

‘What?’ She turned around.

Mary stood in the doorway. ’My room is under yours.’

‘I know. Shit, you scared me.’

‘I hear everything.’

‘Okay?’

‘Be quiet.’

Tim's girlfriend reported to Tim. Mary heard loud steps over her head.

[Anonymous No.9451264]

>>9451244
like where it's going desu. please clean up line is great. starting with you woke me up is less clear

check mine out - >>9451045

[Anonymous No.9452511]

>Part of a five page story I'm working on about a guy waiting for a call at a diner, reminiscing about time spent on vacation.

At the table across from us there was another family who looked exactly like us except for being a good ten years our collective seniors. The parents were old and looked happy, the children did not, but at least they were of drinking age. They sat down and split a massive plate of Tapas which came with a side sour cream and ‘Holey Moley!’-sauce. They arrived drunk and only got drunker as the night progressed. I can’t say I recall the conversation one-hundred percent, but I do remember the son announcing that he was dropping out of school to become an artist:
'Because that’s what artists do dad. They don’t conform to anybody and they don’t retard their creativity to get a fucking letter grade. I am an artist, dad. So see me as one, or kiss. your. son. goodbye.'
The artist had shaken a screwdriver over himself mid-speech. The dad, who was apparently quite fine saying goodbye to his son without a kiss, was just pretending to laugh. It was not a real laugh, far from it. But it sure was loud, so that probably makes up for something. I remember my wife being mad at me for some shit when we went to diner (what’s new?) but boy was she sure thanking the heavens for me by the time we left --that’s when the cop showed up to pull the curtain on the jaw-dropping performance piece that was taking place three booths away.

The present family was getting into a heated discussion on whether or not the kids should have to finish their food. The dad said that since he paid for it, they damn well better finish it. The wife said she didn’t give a fuck if he paid for it; it tasted like shit and they should treat it as such --as the kids were in the midst of doing....flinging it at one another like shit flinging monkeys.
They came to the compromise of Fuck it. We’re on vacation. And ordered their plates to be cleared and checks to be delivered. Burger King was promised. They left as happy as they entered. Maybe more so.

[Anonymous No.9452513]

Just started a new story and I like my flow. ANyone want to chime in before its too late? Havent edited anyrthing yet

[Anonymous No.9452552]

>>9434597
Ugh

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452584]

>>9435089
Mmmmm, I wish I could pay you for saying this for me. I get tired of always saying this and it's so nice to see someone else say it.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452600]

>>9452513
Ill give you a full critique if you actually copy that and not post it in an image.

[Anonymous No.9452615]

>>9452513
>>9452600
Dominic Carter

Dom opened his eyelids slowly, as the sensation of sight alone was nearly too much for his brain to process in its presently groggy, drugged out state. He was surrounded by a number of other bodies -- either dead or unconscious, but all naked and sprawled on the floor, like him. He couldn't remember anything but the sensation of falling: endless falling through an empty, black sky.

He sat up. Slowly at first, but, surprised by how responsive his muscles were, he quickly worked his way to his feet. The room was almost perfectly temperate, and scentless despite the bodies that surrounded him. He himself was scentless, like he'd been washed thoroughly, and his skin was hairless and pale. He didn't think to disturb the other bodies around him, knowing they'd either wake up or they wouldn't. Instead he just walked, tiptoing around the bodies to the end of the room, where a red door was cracked open, waiting for him.

Bang. The sound of a gunshot. He knew it too well. Still, he gripped his fingers around the red door handle and pulled hard, just enough to slowly open the heavy metal thing.

The other room was dark -- darker even than the one he was in, but Dom could still make out the sillouhette of a man in the back of it. The man had been waiting for him, standing there and facing the door the whole time, like a robot. He began to walk forward, and Dom suddenly noticed the bodies which surrounded him as well: stacked neatly rather than sprawled about, and all pushed to the sides of the room, like the man had parted a red sea of bodies so he could walk to Dom with his slow, methodical gait.

Dom stepped back, nearly tripping over an old man's arm. Finally the man crossed the door's threshold and entered the light of the room, where he stopped, just feet infront of Dom's face. Bang. Another gunshot, and closer by this time.

The man didn't flinch, but neither did Dom. He only frowned: the frown of a man who had seen the cycles of life too many times and was growing bored with playing them out every day. The man turned his head to Dom and stuck his hand out for a handshake.

Dom stepped forward and shook the man's hand, one with soft and warm skin which didn't grip him too firmly. The man smiled a warm and genuine smile; his blue eyes lighting up as he looked at Dom affectionately.

"Consider yourself at home, Dominic. Do you remember anything about your old home?"

Dominic shook his head.

"It's a cold place, Dominic. Do you remember why you decided to leave it?

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452648]

>>9452511
This started off solid and didn't finish badly, but not as strong as the first two graphs. Consistent language except in this excerpt it feels like the swearing becomes a little forced at the end by the abrupt increase of it. Particularly 'shit-flinging monkeys." Going back to the start, you say it's a man waiting on a call yet he refers to "us" a few times when noting himself. So if he is alone , that should be fixed to clarify that he is referring to his family. Or at least I'd recommend it.
Otherwise you should just edit a little more, check your punctuation, and make sure you're keeping the voice consistent. Otherwise it's promising and I'd read it all knowing its only 5 pages. Nothing groundbreaking, mind you. But it shows you've got an idea on what you're doing technically.

[Anonymous No.9452679]

>>9452648
I can pop up the whole thing once I've edited it a bit more. The 'us' he's referring to is his family. The paragraphs were kind of cropped out of the middle of the piece

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452718]

>>9451244
First segment, remove 'there' you don't need it. First dialog volley is great. Second segment, it's unclear where Tim's GF is in relation to Mary, so using that as the base of their interaction weakens the image. Second dialog volley is still great. Last lines are fine, but the very last line feels clunky and flatter than what you were going for. I'd say try
>Tim's girlfriend informed him Mary said to be quiet.
or, if you have a name for Tim's gf
>[Jane] informed Tim that Mary had heard loud footsteps.

Very rooted though, which is a compliment. Keep writing; try screenplays or "Hills Like White Elephants" style short stories.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452745]

>>9452679
I figured it was his family, but i had to think about it a moment. Not that it's a bad thing. That is certainly how he'd think about what he was watching by saying 'us', so it's not wrong.
It's up to you, if you want it read, ill go at it. Just make sure you edit it well, because if it starts to feel stapled together and hastily written, ill drop it. I've been doing this too long to put time and effort into something someone else hasn't.

[Anonymous No.9452749]

this is near the end of a short story about this guy who is walking around a zoo he used to come to as a kid. he doesn't know now, but the zookeeper and the man he's recently killed was the elephant caretaker. you can stop here if that sounded too retarded.

Ripples spread from the ridged back of an underwater alligator. That’s what the drawing must have been I thought and waited to see if, when it came up for air, something might come loose. I held my breath too and as I closed my eyes, suffocation opened his in mine; they lifted me over the railing, where the scar under her eye cut my brain, and I felt Ruth’s wet trunk take the straw from my hands. His eyes had been wide when I clenched my teeth and crushed his larynx with my thumbs. He made a death rattle and then his neck went slack and I let his head fall back.
Though I had said that about excitement, this wasn’t what I meant; killing a man was not an experience I had wanted to have. I was tired but, I thought, someone may have heard. So I pulled his long legs inside to close the door and think about what to do.
With a light on, I saw that the bullet had made a small hole in his belly, and now that he was on his back, there wasn’t as much blood as I had expected. Certainly, I thought, this man hadn’t needed to die; if he’d only been quiet I wouldn’t have had to choke him - a doctor could have sowed him back up. Under the lamp, his eyes were far apart and he had more wrinkles than I’d imagined, though it was hard to tell much from his contorted face.
I knew that if he had told anyone about the attempt to blackmail me, then, if he went missing, mine would be the first place for the police to look. I stripped him, thinking that the fewer clothes of his that were spoiled with blood, the less evidence I’d have difficulty disposing of. I remember he had an anchor tattoo on his shoulder, and his body was off balance - the muscles on one side bigger than the other. Closer to me, I pulled at his weakened arm but it felt fragile, like it had been broken and never healed.
It would be hard to get rid of the body without help. I considered calling my friend, the lawyer, but knew he’d recognize the man from their meeting. It was the middle of the night, but blind people keep strange hours I thought, and so I ran to my aunt’s to get her husband. I didn’t need to tell him what we were doing for him to understand.
I’d never seen him smile before he closed his trunk, patted me on the shoulder, and told me to leave the car beside where the levee had broke - it was nothing to worry about. Just burn the clothes, he said, and don’t worry about New Orleans detectives figuring anything out. He’d sell the other revolver if I didn’t want it. Sure, I said.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452847]

>>9452615
This will take multiple posts:

>Dom opened his eyelids slowly, as the sensation of sight alone was nearly too much for his brain to process in its presently groggy, drugged out state. He was surrounded by a number of other bodies -- either dead or unconscious, but all naked and sprawled on the floor, like him. He couldn't remember anything but the sensation of falling: endless falling through an empty, black sky.

Stop, using so many, commas. Damn man, first sentence can be written with no commas and should only have one comma as is. And from here, your punctuation only gets worse.
>He was surrounded by a number of other bodies -- either dead or unconscious, but all naked and sprawled on the floor, like him.
Wow man, this should at the very least be
>Surrounding Dom were other naked bodies either dead or unconscious but sprawled out just as he was.
You've got to go back to your basics here.
>He couldn't remember anything but the sensation of falling: endless falling through an empty, black sky.
Firstly, this is beyond cliche. There are a billion ways to describe a waking sensation, and I'm certain they all haven't been used. Secondly, back to punc, you do not need a colon here. It should be a semicolon or at the least the hyphen you wrongly used earlier.

I lied. I'm not going to critique this whole thing. I'd need nearly a post a graph, and I'm not doing that. This whole idea is very cliche and is written nearly average at far-best. It goes nowhere, it isn't interesting, and the way the events unfold is funny in a RLM or MST3K way, to me. Not intentionally done by you (though technically...). Read Strunk and White, read any "real" novel, and make sure you've worked out and edited something you want looked at. Otherwise you get the feedback you put into it. Don't give up, but you've got a lot of work to do. Keep practicing, keep studying, and keep observing what aspects make good or memorable writing. You'll get there; anyone can do it.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452879]

>>9452847
Woah, I hate using a phoner. Meant to correct your one line to:
>Surrounding Dom are other naked bodies either dead or unconscious and sprawled just as he was.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452897]

>>9452749
>That’s what the drawing must have been I thought and waited to see if, when it came up for air, something might come loose. I held my breath too and as I closed my eyes, suffocation opened his in mine; they lifted me over the railing, where the scar under her eye cut my brain, and I felt Ruth’s wet trunk take the straw from my hands. His eyes had been wide when I clenched my teeth and crushed his larynx with my thumbs.

No clue what you're describing here brotha. From the rest,

[Anonymous No.9452908]

>>9452897
yeah, kind of stupid to post shit from the end

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9452911]

>>9452749
>Ripples spread from the ridged back of an underwater alligator. That’s what the drawing must have been I thought and waited to see if, when it came up for air, something might come loose. I held my breath too and as I closed my eyes, suffocation opened his in mine; they lifted me over the railing, where the scar under her eye cut my brain, and I felt Ruth’s wet trunk take the straw from my hands. His eyes had been wide when I clenched my teeth and crushed his larynx with my thumbs.

Don't really know what developing here. It feels disconnected in it's imagery and I can't pull any if it together until after what I've copied. And then I still don't know what this opener means. But you have a decent control of your language. Your punc is lazy, but it shows that you at least have a decent idea when to use it properly. Make sure you fully edit before posting. But this was at least interesting and shows you have promise. Keep practicing. And don't mind my other reply, I'm deleting after this. Idk why but it autoposted before I was done.

[Anonymous No.9452979]

>>9452847
>>9452879
Yeah but he was literally falling before he woke up.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9453052]

>>9452979
Okay? I had a dream I was on a rollercoaster right at the drop when I woke up falling off my bed. I mean, I didn't, but you see my point?

[Anonymous No.9453060]

>>9453052
I don't think you understand. He was literally falling through a black, empty sky before he went to sleep. That's just the last thing he can remember.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9453074]

>>9453060
Well it comes off as a dream then; you've got to clarify that.

[Anonymous No.9453125]

>>9452718

Thank you! =)

[Anonymous No.9453127]

>>9451264

Thanks appreciate it. I'll find some time today to look at yours

[Anonymous No.9453155]

>>9452718

PS. Tim's gf has no name because they have a messed up relationship where he treats her like his possession. Tim is an ass. Will try and work this in more smoothly but it will make more sense in the context of the full story

[Anonymous No.9453325]

>>9453125
Hey, ignore my remark about your last line. I realized I was reading it wrong this whole time. It took a second to realize it was from Mary's perspective. Not a fault on your end. So its fine as is and I don't think you should change it.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9453328]

>>9453325
Forgot my trip, this was me though

[Anonymous No.9453345]

>>9453325
>>9453328

All good, wouldn't have expected you to pick that up from one line. It's a short excerpt with shifting perspectives. But I'm glad you did

[Anonymous No.9453385]

>>9453345
I was a little stoned when I read over it, so I'm sure that's why I missed it. Honestly followed everything else just fine. Like I said, you either know people well or you put a decent amount of thought into that. Definitely stands out from the crowd.

[Anonymous No.9453407]

>>9453385

It's based on people I know. Thanks, that's really nice to hear :)

[Anonymous No.9453427]

gallons

momentous wire doves
you call a tune mango—
unreal mountain
glowing in time
aren’t I treelike?
in this simulation
a leaf means treason—
monkey abrasion
and lullaby turnpike
your wings ring blue
like angelic jones.

scrumptious darling
my lonely crow
jumps three times,
bellissima belfast,
unknown undulations:
big bang brothers
know this—
the sun tied me down
with gallons
of paperwork.

light workers
unite and flake
under. . .
the unborn cold unborn
morning claws
really really
into derailed
false skin.
lint auguries
splint ovaries
january time
location time
repeat the warrant
your hands are on.

second reason
wine turns off—
must rebel
against 20
latkes,
jamboree
in the weirdest
belly.

fundamental swish
hair and
clunk traps. . .

it's not done but what do you guys think so far?

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9453448]

>>9453407
The best writing is usually just writing what you know.

>>9453427
You don't want to hear it from me brother, trust me.

[Anonymous No.9454055]

>>9453448
is it that bad?

[Anonymous No.9454284]

dead bouquet
almost plangent
in wet cement.

[Anonymous No.9454425]

>>9453427
complete version

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0JCsSSGVYaA

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9455079]

>>9454055
Pretty bad man, sorry. Poetry is all about elegant simplicity. It's about solid, concrete imagery that is easy to follow (whether it's understanding or visualizing or both), interconnectivity of the descriptions used, and only using the absolute most necessary words. This has none of that, and I've read it a few times and still am not certain on what it's about. Check out this poem that also uses a lot of line breaks and that same feeling, but it's all for the purpose of showing a shadow's movement from the body of his lover:

I Looked for Life and Did a Shadow See

ByJames Galvin

Some little splinter
Of shadow purls
And weals down
The slewed stone
Chapel steps,
Slinks along
The riverrock wall
And disappears
Into the light.
Now ropy, riffled,
Now owlish, sere,
It smolders back
To sight beneath
A dwarfish, brindled tree
That chimes and sifts
And resurrects
In something’s sweet
And lethal breath.
This little shadow
Seems to know
(How can it know?
How can it not?)
Just when to flinch
Just where to loop and sag
And skitter down,
Just what to squirrel
And what to squander till
The light it lacks
Bleeds it back
And finds
My sleeping dark-haired girl —
O personal,
Impersonal,
Continual thrall —
And hammocks blue
In the hollows of her eyes.

[Anonymous No.9455213]

>>9452584
No probs Skyler.

I'll critique something of yours if you post it.

Any chance you'd take a what I posted?

https://pastebin.com/uiv3fRdJ

[Anonymous No.9455219]

>>9455213

>take a look at what I posted

[Anonymous No.9455277]

>>9455213
I don't have anything to post atm, and I'm about to start my day. So I might not read that over until later tonight, or I at least won't critique it until tonight. But I'll get to it.

[Skyler Rodes !!QLOkNPD82ON No.9455279]

>>9455277
>>9455213
I'm jumping around boards and I keep forgetting my trip when I get back here.

[Anonymous No.9455313]

>>9455277
>>9455279

No worries. Thanks. Have a nice day.

[Anonymous No.9456084]

bamp

[Anonymous No.9456700]

I'm not a writer.

>>9455213
>We’re often rubbing mutually off similar dissatisfactions.
Can you explain this line?
You should reconstruct this sentence and not split the phrasal verb this time.


>No, but now that you say it.
I think you should have trailed this off with an ellipsis or a dash

>stilted warm air
I don't get this description.


>The track was a bit too long for the interaction that was in it.
Do you mean that the girl would be driven to interact with you too much (for you to bear) since the track was so long? If so, I think your sentence is not the way to state this.

Maybe you meant something like this:
The track was too long for me to endure the interaction she seemed to require/need/want/desire.
The track was too long for me to endure the interaction she seemed to want to subject me to.
The track was too long and my temper too short to support this type/level/amount of interaction.
[...]and my patience too thin[...]

Your use of "the track" again in the next sentence was jarring to me, especially since you started the sentence with it.

>inhaled before what looked likely to be an unchallenging slew of compliments.
Perhaps you should change "slew" to "outpouring" or anothing word that makes it clear that the comments will be coming from the woman

> Perfectly charming.
This sounds out of place and too abrupt. Abrupt can work but it doesn't work here for me.

[Anonymous No.9456834]

>>9456700
Appreciate the critique.

I can see some sense in most of what you pointed out.

[Anonymous No.9456836]

>>9455213
>We’re often rubbing mutually off similar dissatisfactions.
please fix this. In general, the opening dialogue is really inorganic sounding.

>stilted warm air
you need a different adjective. stilted doesn't really work here. i get what you're going for but stilted really does only work in the context of speech or action.

>The sound of African drums, electronically rendered and looped, and tinny through the phone speakers, rattled through the bus a little less loudly than Talbot thought, but audibly. He paused it.
Break this up.
"The sound of African drums, electronically rendered and looped, were given a tinny sound by the speakers of the phone. The sounds rattled through..."
Something like that. It doesn't read very well otherwise. I hope you know what I'm talking about


In general, not a fan. Unconfident, milquetoast young man that seems to put everyone above himself and plays too much in his own head on ideas that really aren't very interesting. His only source of intrigue to both the reader and the woman on the bus is his relation to his musician friend.

[Anonymous No.9456856]

>>9456836
Okay, thanks.

Have something for me to critique?

[Anonymous No.9456891]

>>9456856
yeah i'm the trash up here >>9448296

[Anonymous No.9457045]

>>9456891

It's not trash. You have a competent grip on the English language. Neat, if a little unadventurous.

There's next to no characterization though. You tend to luxuriate in your female lead's capacity to use her senses. And you do so in a way that doesn't reveal anything about her. Pretty much all we can guess (and it is a guess) is that she would like to stay cool in the hot weather (who doesn't?)

It makes for a sort of evocative read, but its a little indulgent for my taste. Bit like a perfume advertisement. Pretty, but shallow.

Your dialogue all reads fine, but it's boring. Perhaps that's where we differ in taste. I do take your point about my own dialogue, but I have to say if the cost of having 'organic' dialogue in your eyes is to have the characters say nothing that says anything about who they are, you can have it.

I didn't hate it though. I thought it was pretty, which is good. I just don't know if I trust you to actually say something about anything based on what you have written so far.

Make some observations. Step in. Don't just let your writing happen at you.

There are a couple of bits and bobs where I could have greentexted your sentences and suggested rewrites, forgive me, it's late here and I'm tired. If you really want that I might be able to do it tomorrow.

I see that you plan on having a HOLY SHIT WOAH turn in the story, just remember that we won't give a shit unless you make her into a real person for us before that happens. I can safely say that in that regard you are off to a dreadful start.

[Anonymous No.9457062]

>>9457045
P.S. So far it makes me think of that recent Blake Lively film "The Shallows". Just in terms of the tone. It's competent in this really bland way.

Just a thought. Might be useless. Take it or leave it.

[Anonymous No.9457076]

>>9457045
damn thanks. these are good notes. will def consider these going forward. u are good.

>I just don't know if I trust you to actually say something about anything based on what you have written so far.
I wouldn't either, but giving relatively unqualified opinions in here seems to be the currency by which once buys critique of their own works.

[Anonymous No.9457133]

>>9457076

Truth be told I might have, with utter sincerity, sucked the dick off your story if you had thought well of mine. Guess we'll never know. Tis a fickle affair, opinions on /lit/. For the most part everybody so mean, so pre-salted.

[Anonymous No.9457150]

>>9457133
True. It's hard to know when you're being given good crit based on your style and they're helping you along or when an anon simply has completely different tastes than you and would never like a word of you or your favorite author's writing.

[Anonymous No.9457178]

>>9457150
Absolutely.

As a possible antidote to just that, what do you think of starting a casual correspondence?

I'll continue to critique yours, you continue to critique mine sort of thing? I actually do that already with a couple anons, but for poetry. Works well enough.

[Anonymous No.9457245]

>>9457178
P.S. Sorry if I weirded you out.

Just to clarify, it would all still be essentially totally anonymous. Just an email address. I create a use once and dispose email address, and through that I give anons my real email.

I'm always looking for people to correspond with on a longer term basis because I think the results are more fruitful. It's casual though. No expectations/obligation. It lasts for as long as you feel arsed continuing it.

[Anonymous No.9458242]

>>9453427
I tired to understand; I couldn't. Your metaphor don't translate to anything, maybe English isn't your frist language?

>>9455213
Trying adding some dialog tags it was kinda hard to follow for me. I feel the Trope of the pixie girl who cures the pain of a unconfidant hero. Or maybe it just this piece of the story sounds like that.

>>9452749
It was confusing. Only because you threw us middle of the interaction. But what you described seems like a cool story.

[Anonymous No.9458254]

>>9458242
Here's a mine.

Watching, all it does is watch. Always late night. Always in the dark. It's been watching for about two years now, after a bad situation. I first looked upon it, I screamed and kept screaming until I blacked out and it was morning. Form then on, the ongoing months was a cycle: it would appear, I would proceed to lose my shit for weeks, I would manage get shit together; obtaining a glimmer of normality and suddenly, as if to bring me back to madness, it would appear once more. Repeating the cycle.


But Why? Why me? Questions like that always linger in my mind; Ignoring the fact I could be insane. But at the point in life I rather be crazy than stuck in some ward; Which is why I haven't told anyone about it. Does it my soul? Are soul's some divine currency demons can turn over for a comfortable spot in hell. Could I be destined become some type of slave for all eternity, if so I question my demons tactics for it's magnitudes less effective than a needle of something good or even TV. Perhaps, it's relaying some profound message? Could be it's a being that died and needs me to bring it closure, because obviously it appear out of thin air but, somehow unable to pick up a phone and call has the public deal with it's issues. I'm being punished? That's my assumption; but the real question is it going to kill me? Hell, I'm betting on it doing so.


For Life has gone downhill for me. I am gambler and a addict who owes money both my dealers. I played the game of life wrong. All in with little bit money, but all of my soul. That's what gamblers do. They deal with the devil and hope god is gonna save them. But if he was gonna show up, he would stopped the at the first sin. At Temptation. He probably let's us gamble for prayers; prayers of gratuite form winning or the pleas for salvation. But the devil gets the real good stuff; he gets to punish all the Prometheus'es who seek shortcuts to heaven. He gets to enjoy our struggle, to see a man's unbreakable faith smash itself again and again against the wall of a predictable destiny until they shatter. I shattered.

I don't want pity and I hate those who doll it out. Hate em because pity is an emotion not designed for the long term. Even matters of the most extreme, life and death, at some point you're going to stop caring. How many times you're going give that same beggar dollar. Not forever. Why do you think so many old people are alone? Family stopped caring.

She stopped caring. I am Tired seeing other people's emotional limits. Can't make that mistake again; so I figure, If It wants me, It can have me, I don't want me. How much is a junkies soul worth in that divine currency calculus? Don't know, But, I do know today is the day I will not scream. I'm manning up. Fuck being a chump.

[Anonymous No.9458281]

on a small sunny morning you were there eating bugged dandelions.

cartwheel smoke ring +
ginger mound.

you were the first
ballerina
in space.

twirls for emperor
dalzon and his
catlike army.

ermine sunday
call the weather masculine.

vampyre frog
glitch.

sweet honeydew
i always need more
cotton duct tape.

tactile warzones,
i have touched.

down with clonazepam
daydreams.

free, like
waterfalls
on jupiter.

frisson gamer
tamer blue.

powder manipulation +
cognizance fractal.

laputa fell
into a cup of dram.

mandarin season
happens all the time
correctly.

whiptail marshland +
billiard conspiracy.

the maudlin citadel
flounders
under the great ark.

mint-minded individuals
spire into spider wastelands.

nantucket diaries,
plaintive ferdinand.

i had a winter’s
petticoat—
named him harmonica.

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0L5IPbVoyKv

[Anonymous No.9458421]

>>9458254
enjoyed it, even though some of it triggered my schizophrenia. god and the devil are fun to work with. i hope i reach the point where i don't care anymore, i care too much.

[Anonymous No.9458510]

*Opens door*
Hello
*Grins*
I
am
the
complete
New-Man
*Pulls out phone*
- Hey~ -
- :) -
- what's up -
*Waiting*

[Anonymous No.9458522]

>>9434554
I think I understand what you were getting at with this, so the awkwardness people are describing this as works better than you'd think. Although I agree with >>9434805 on the use of aside, I'd change that too.

[Anonymous No.9458553]

Here's my poem, I hope you like it

I'm am very *F.U.C.K.I.N.G* depressed
every fucking immortal dark cursed fucking black moon morning I emerge from my coffin and suck the fucking life out of another worthless whore cunt figment of my greyscale nightmare dreamscape. I then have my bdsm victorian era manslave powder my balls and stab me in my eyesockets... I do this because I know I will not be able to cope with what I see outside
My hobbies include acrostic poetry and micro-dosing arsenic
and yes I am /fa/ I know because I am a blood mage vampyre who has existed and fought century-old gothic werewolves who have had nice things to say about my fits

here is my poem I hope, you like it

*F: Fuck this life
*U: Undo my fucking life
*C: Cut deep into my flesh
*K: Kill me
*I: I want to die every day
*N: Night is my veil
*G: God smite me off this fucking earth

[Anonymous No.9458563]

A bunch of angry faggots

Posting in a thread

Because that's all they can do

Smd

And thats.... Full lyrics on Google Play

[Anonymous No.9459473]

>>9457245
my emails in the bottom of the doc if you want it, my guy.

[Anonymous No.9460319]

Ein dreifacher Zungenschlag: Präzision.
Die Gebäude stürzen ein und wir verrohen.
Ich bin ein Märzenbecher im April.
Du kannst mich nennen wie du willst.

Es ist ein später Herbst und ich habe vergessen
zu den Engeln zu beten.
Ohne Glauben getrunken und den Schwur barfuß
auf dem roten Grund abgegeben.

Auch hier scheint alles voller Verse
und unsichtbarer Regeln.
Unter den blutenden Zedern stehen wartend
die Autos der Dorfflegel.

Die langen Abende kommen wieder.
Weißt du noch, als Kind, im blitzenden Flieder?
Ich kann mich nicht mehr erinnern.
Ich weiß lediglich das deine Ausreden verrinnen

in Abflüssen weit weg von hier
wo es hässlich und dunkel ist und Staub in den Vorhängen.
In den Kneipen ist dein Freund ein Totengräber.
Wie ein Netzwerk von Spucke - das, sagt er ist Leben.

Für ihn ist das Bluten ewig
und Leiden, sagt er stolz, zerfließt wie Sand.
Da zeigtest du mir einen getrockneten Löwenzahn
in einem weißen Rahmen an der Wand.

***
Als sich die Schnauze des Hofhundes im Asphalt vergrub
sein Besitzer hat ihn gepackt und geschüttelt
weil er das Mal der Schande trug.

Du sagtest zu ihm: mein Engel, mein Hämoglobin.
aber das war nur leerer Trost.
Wiederhole: Impuls ist nicht gleich Tat.
Wiederhole: Ich bin gut und ich bin wahllos.

Du reißt mir alle Zähne einzeln aus
und suchst mich hinter dem Gaumenzäpfchen.
Du redest von Antiseptikum und schweren Lidern
weil letztlich alle deine Zangen brechen.

Meine Verachtung ist ein Rotkehlchen
mit gebrochenem Flügel auf dem Balkon.
Und trotz dem seltsamen Lauf der Jahre
bin ich noch immer meines Vaters Sohn.

Es bleibt ein Abdruck auf deinen Wangen.
Der Lauf von tödlichem Licht.
Alles Dinge die mich nicht mehr belangen.
Du verschwindest aus der Sicht.

Sie schwingt auf Mantelenden.

[Anonymous No.9460653]

I want money and I can write. How to into freelancing? I've found tons of places calling for submissions, but I don't know what red flags to look out for so I don't end up in a sticky situation.

[Anonymous No.9460801]

>>9460653
>I can write

Post something so we can judge.

[Anonymous No.9461250]

>>9459473
Got it, thanks.

[Anonymous No.9461432]

>>9451045
This is excellent. Tight and simple. The themes are pretty self-evident but you present them in such a different way that the reader's pulled in to see where you go with them. Often people tend to force the life-philosophy stuff into these personal accounts, but you pulled it off with a really light touch - I actually care for the narrator, and I'd be interested to see where it goes. Well done, man.

[Anonymous No.9461506]

>>9460653
https://www.upwork.com/i/how-it-works/freelancer/

Looked at it a while ago, seems legit. You could do ghostwriting or article writing or anything really.

[Anonymous No.9461611]

i started practicing in january as a new years resolution; thus far its occupying and no one around me writes or critiques
youre my only hope /lit/. give it to me like a barbed strap-on
(im sorry im not finished with it yet)

[Anonymous No.9462509]

>>9461611
this was awesome. i feel like i just killed myself and you brought me to my insane afterlife that i deserve for doing such a dirty thing.

[Anonymous No.9462513]

Gargantua was traversing through the valleys as part of his royal duties when suddenly a deep fog descended upon him. Despite the great acuity of his vision he could not see his palm if he brought it right up to his face, nor even recognize the well-sculpted tip of his handsome nose. And this cloud was not only obstructing of sight but of movement, for it was so thick and had composition like the warm caramel that pastry chefs fashion out of butter, sugar, and God-given patience. Like caramel also it was sweet and tantalizing upon his lips, so that despite his most refined and noble demeanor, Gargantua could not help but smack them like a dog gobbling up a pile of tripe. The most distinguishing feature of the mist was its overwhelming perfume: dark roses, amber, dragon’s blood, opulent Arabian spice, blackberry jam, sumptuous green figs, elm heartwood smoke, honeysuckle, starflower, musk of all colors, fairy’s sweat, ambergris, delicate daffodils, saffron, opium, and the palest pink peach blossom.

So overcome was Gargantua that he began inhaling deeply and rapidly. His nostrils were a bottomless sink for the air around him, drawing the fog in with such great speed that the winds of his breathing blew into a storm as great in magnitude as those Zeus brought down upon Odysseus to trap him on the island of Helios. As the fog fled into Gragantua’s body, it congealed upon all of his cavities; his ethmoid sinuses, bronchioles, auditory canal, stomach, duodenum, ileum, sigmoid colon, and rectum all were coated with a thick wall of the pungent fluid. Once there was no more moisture to feast his senses upon, Gargantua looked around (for the air was perfectly clear, the obstruction all residing within his body) and saw that in his blind stumbling he had come upon a rich and bountiful fruit orchard. He mused to himself,

[Anonymous No.9462515]

>>9462513
“These trees tower so high and are covered with such dense foliage that I cannot but see a glimpse of the beautiful blue heavens. Nor at night will I be able to reckon upon the stars to guide me home. I shall be lost wandering among this wilderness trying to find my way for some time – but I maintain some fortune, for the fruits littering the ground will keep me sustained and free of hunger, so that my trial is not nearly as difficult as those most holy men.”

Gargantua headed directly East through the forest, harvesting the delicious bounty of the trees as he went along. For many days and nights he walked and ate – but not once did he shit. The mucus which had filled the atmosphere with vapor, and now rested within his bowels as a thick sludge, had clogged up all of his piping and especially his fundament. Food continued to enter into Gargantuas body but none of it could leave –not even through the respiration of his lungs or the sweat pores on his skin, for those were constipated as well. All of it collected within his gut, and as the days passed Gargantua’s belly swelled and swelled.

On the dawn of the forty-first day, Gargantua finally reached the edge of the orchard. By this time his abdomen had expanded to such a round and turgid form that he had to wobble forward like a lazy duck to keep from falling over. But, the very moment he stepped back into his familiar open valley, the chains which had so tightly bound his internals loosened just enough to give release. With that, the titanic body which had been gestating inside of him shot out of his anus like a cannon ball. And, as all men have known since antiquity, the longer the constipation, the harder and denser the shit. As this iron turd flew out, it scraped against the sides of Gargantua’s now vice-tight rectum, bringing forth a torrent of sparks that were bright and hot enough to scorch the earth for seventeen hundred thousand lengths. (He was in the usual birth-giving position favored by midwives and endorsed by Galen, so that the fire came out as a cone into the valley front of him, none of it even grazing the enchanted forest behind.) The intense pain of this birth brought down a curtain of blackness over Gargantua’s mind, while the waterfall of sparks breathed life into the mass which had just left his body.

As Gargantua lay unaware and recovering, this life spread throughout the evacuated matter, reforming and reshaping it. When he finally awoke, he saw it had become a beautiful woman of the highest nobility, and he instantly fell in love.

[Anonymous No.9462834]

people on twitter say i sound like a bot

recreation peregrine

goofy rockabilly
beacon the sky-wig
protruding, how rude
we splish bright
like a carpenter trudges
through the dead night
easy-kill grudges
blight unspeakable
you talk like cantaloupe
honey-finger-plier-wrongs
fried cream, the falcon
in the blow-up
pool, tongs
surround us—
gayly.


follow me: https://twitter.com/ryan_bry__tweet

[Anonymous No.9462881]

>>9462513
thanks for reminding me of the nose in front of my face.

>his nostrils were a bottomless sink for the air around him
good
>>9462515
this ended up being hilarious, really glad i read it.

[Anonymous No.9462884]

>>9462515
hahah fart jokes so clever

[Anonymous No.9463018]

>>9435642

reminds me of this: http://www.caspermag.com/2017/03/22/denial-by-m/#more-862

[Anonymous No.9463038]

>>9463018
Did you "find" that on twitter, too?

[Anonymous No.9464402]

Bump

[Anonymous No.9464449]

Here's the start of a short story I've been meaning to begin for a while. Right now it's just been edited for tense and punctuation, and I've got enough written to establish a starting scene. I'm looking to hear about grammar, but mostly if this draws you in or not. Also any other glaring issues. Thank you in advance.
Title is:
>A Walk in Autumn

https://pastebin.com/raw/FDFHKmmX

[Anonymous No.9464775]

>>9458553
Edgy
But seriously, it's not as incoherent as it seems to make itself. There's a story of intrigue about a lonely man who relies on sexual fantasies to cope with an ever-gloomy world - or maybe he just hasn't gone outside in a while, lol. However if you're intention was to bring out emotion, you certainly brought out the nihilistic darkness that can only be achieved with 4chan.

Here's my story, I hope you like it

Lee came at sunrise, far off in the distant haze of the Dunes; where time begins and midnight ends, there at the ever-wavy line of dust and wind, rising with the gold-tinged clouds of grey. A lone road ascending from the interstate split, up the valley, down the hill, and through the old-world carrions at the edge of the world, the ruin lay in wait.
Lee took off his helmet, the hover bike still humming with anticipation. He gave a quick survey of the area to make sure bandits weren’t getting sneaky on him behind the old rubbles of bombed-out commercial buildings. Old Chinese shops, groceries, and a Shop-at-Mart lay in consecutive lines in front of the parking area like a wall; all-too-perfect to spring up an ambush of well-guarded shooters, or worse yet, snipers.
Bringing out his radar detector, Lee looked down at the hud to see if there were life-signs in the area – a quick beep. There were two blips coming from within a larger building not too far across the road; an old cinema buried in dust, and an empty parking space at the tongue of its entrance. No hovers in view.
Trap, was the first line of thought to him, as it was entering anywhere new in the frontier. Scroungers weren’t meant to get this far into the forbidden territories, but if you were as desperate to pay off some mob bosses for a drunk night of empty card games, then you may have reason enough to throw your life aside for some old tech that a historian would cough credits over. Giving a deep, troubled sigh, Lee strapped on his net-launcher and an old, half-cocked gattle gun, and ventured inside the building. The darkness of the theatre lobby rolled out a pleasant welcome sign, as the tongue of light from the outside world was all he could see from within. The doors barely half-open.

[Anonymous No.9465171]

>>9458553
Way too edgy

>>9464775
I like it, but I feel like you sort of bit off more than you could chew with the style of the first paragraph, and slowly reverted to a plainer style afterwards.

Anyway, here's the beginning of my story:


A divinely powerful gust of wind and sleet bombarded what was left of a dead tree's trunk, a sturdy one that had survived the test of time under unforgiving circumstances. A teenage boy, exhausted from fighting the elements, walked to the trunk and collapsed beside it, letting it take the brunt of the wind's fury. He was fatally underdressed and on the tail end of a testing journey, something his joints and frostbitten fingers reminded him incesstantly. He was so close to the end of this journey that when he peeked his head out from behind the tree he could already see his destination in the sky, the Eye of the storm around which the elements continued their eternal reign of terror.

It had been this way for decades, longer than the boy or either of his parents have been walking on solid ground. Long enough for this godforsaken place to be called the Stormlands, and long enough that a city has been erected in the Eye of this everlasting storm. The location of the storm was as unwavering as its strength, so much so that the people who once lived here had the balls to build a city in the Eye. "Iris", they called it, because that was the name for part of your eye, though the boy didn't know exactly which part.

As for the land outside of the Eye, it wasn't exactly abandoned. Though it was once fertile farming land, only after its damnation was its true value discovered. Not ten feet beneath anywhere you stood were Artifacts, peices of machinery from a time long forgotten. And where there were Artifacts, there were Scavengers.

The boy caught his breath and emerged from behind the log. Sheepishly, he continued his march over the shallow layer of snow which always coated the ground this close to the Eye. The icy wind felt like it was stabbing him, and the lightning in the sky threatened to strike him down any moment, but he was young and strong and determined, so he pushed through.

[Anonymous No.9465188]

sorry to hijack this thread, but what are some good literary jounrals/sites to publish modernist poetry/pre-post modern?

I have a lot of work that would be along the lines of H.D. and Pound, but not sure where to go.

[Anonymous No.9465242]

>>9464449
was scrolling through the page and misread the greentext as A walk in Autism

[Anonymous No.9465278]

>>9462834
you seem to like words that make no sense together whatsoever
you haven't created any images

no one will follow your egocentric and objectively shit twitter

[Anonymous No.9465314]

>>9465278
thanks

[Anonymous No.9465691]

Ok guys, pls r8 my baby-tier proemio.

Hermes-
Venid aquellos dispuestos a exponerse al fuego de Hefesto
Puesto que sólo aquellos que ardan en las llamas eternas de Zeus
Y quienes accedan a descender a las profundidades del Tártaro
Son los únicos con un alma dispuesta
A alcanzar el conocimiento de la cerdad nomádica

Apolo-
La única verdad que existe
Es la unión del ser y el no ser
Puesto que para la existencia misma
Es necesario que el no ser sea
Y que el ser sea

Hermes-
La naturaleza del conocimiento
Así ha dispuesto
Una existencia ficticia
Englobaora del universo

Apolo-
En esta ficción todo calza
Aquella ficción que rebalsa
Todo aquello que existe

Hermes-
Y todo engloba
La limitada verdad
Del universo ficcional

Apolo-
Las fronteras de la exploración
Se regirán por vuestra creación

Won't critique people in this same post since I don't want my shitty opinions to influence what other people think of my poetry.

[Anonymous No.9465699]

>>9465171
I fucking love storms so I can't crit this negatively, but I would read. Perhaps you do it later but knowing what the boy is wearing early would better paint whatever sort of society he belongs to.


I'm not good at critique but there's mine, and here's my shit:
The sun was setting and the tips of the buildings were all aflame; I sat in my apartment blind to that glorious rage. She was in the building opposite, the window second from the top. The light was slowly escaping her and she was leaning out with her eyes closed and smiling, nearly falling trying to feel all its warmth. I loved watching her because she seemed so alive, so grand as the sun was bouncing off her. She alone was my sunset, my early moon. She managed not only to reflect but mimic that rage I so desperately craved, and with fingers up and grasping delicately those last rays, she left as the sun did.

>Pic is related

[Anonymous No.9466505]

>>9458553
i feel like youre trying to hard but maybe thats the point