yo, soft sand lube! Contrary to what your previous reviewer commented, I found the rhyme pattern to be unfitting for my taste. The poem feels too "angsty" and the purpose/meaning of the poem feels lost within the wordplay and rhyme scheme you try to establish.
If you want something a bit more detailed we can talk later on AIM.
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- Stifle
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Member for 16 years, 6 months, and 16 days
Last active Wed, Mar, 23 2016 07:59:24
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a reader once told me
that my poetry was a seismic shift among debris
a heart worn across the sleeve
a nagging and a pet peeve
of his or hers to know that it reads
**** to the highest degree him her and you love me
and with my eyes as a muse and my hands as the sieve
you god damn well should
since it means i'm doing my ******* job right
it means i'm breaking your narcissistic ego and transcending passions
long enough for you to forget about the *****ty reality you lead
and taking a gander at this stranger who is a hundred times fun
a thousand times exhilarating and a million times creative
to make a presumptive musing like this roll some irises
but leaving a smirk across more unwieldly faces
You said you believed in God and to a church I have not been
In a very long time so I am left pondering if I have sinned
In the past day, week or month for I am always your victim
And I would like to break out of this cathedral
Built with the firmest bricks of your belief but I am pinned
As Jesus willingly was to his cross in no shame or chagrin
At the invitation of your altar I find myself kneeling down again
Eager for a Communion, so please hear this confession
I have been too scared to love and too scarred to crave affection
I have been insufferable and now what I hear are your hymns
At your mercy I am vicariously in
Your beck and call, my resolve grows ever so thin
Since I am overcome with your gospel and every last one of your whims
Your prayers in my thoughts, I am a disciple of your grin
For you are becoming my Christ within.
that grin is a fantastic rupture
a roulette to my Russia
adrenaline; you are a rush of
butterflies and cold tea
numbs me to a stiff reality
since we could never be
time, she plays a cruel mistress
and knows too well of distress
for my pain is her eustress
and she loves to hear "please"
yet no matter how much i'd plead
her ears fall deaf to these pleas
so practice good karma in lieu of good hopes
and shed expectations before they grow
for knowledge is pain - it hurts to know
that a caricature of my past wanting
is delivered to this present setting
and there's no future treading
the fine lines of a possibility called us
descent below
a setting horizon in the zenith
shows it's been too long
when there used to be a calling
where solitude
was once a fortitude
there used to be purpose
in his wrist and the writs
were beamed with wits
or so he would have liked to believe
that there was passion
to his craft but confessions from the past
led to concessions on the last
sunset;
the most distressing part of day
is the fading luminescence
when lampposts illuminate
their own isolation
Echoes of the most sedantry saxophone seeps through the speakers in a sunnyside ghetto seducing a back slouched back already sedated by a mobile device
what's a cellular phone anyway?
cell is a building block of breathing
you'll have told me by then that this music is smothering
are you sure it was the jazz or just your mindstate?
since you were a lady of the strongest
convictions with your nomadic ways
etched in a stupendous stupor
when your family found you lifeless
in the closet with pills
and a bottle of vodka
a tune snuffed softly out in my head
Jazz hasn't sounded the same since.
A
palette of snow
immersed in cedar white
in frostbitten cold
the trodden roof caked
spies upon a beaten road
where warlords once clashed
and blood was once shed
and lives were exchanged
for honor and death and taxes
the gales hum a tune of timeless vows
you ****!
soliloquist soliloquize soliloquy
a sermon for those figurative shades and irrepressible haughtiness worn around its' person
or would personality be more technically correct?
it's pitiable; so contemptibly inadequate where attempts of mediocrity flourish under a nest of blind crows
since when was chain smoking in style? has robitussin always tasted so tart?
like a figurative comparison that can explain
a husk
an empty husk
with all bareness exposed
naked is the night of a palette called moon
that's been insistently taught to be a circumference of beauty
take two, director.
It was a fear of passion and inevitably endearment because of the way the willows shook and the facial hair that took
a toll on youth
It's the slightest bit rigid and taxing on the syntax but when a sprinter doesn't sprint his form grows lax
So when a writer doesn't write or a poet doesn't plead
cause becomes riddled
and questionably questionable
That tinkling of the spine and those goosebumps formed on arms seems to get a rise every time eyes
look past upon past while these fingers know best
that complexion upon completion is just a facade
just another excuse to make an excuse
It was a cusp of time once
filled with a slight of boredom
and an inkling of depression
with a touch of naivety
And having meandered back to the whims of the child
I owe it to myself.
It was laden with awesome imagery. It also felt personal and introspective, which are some of the most important qualities in a poem to me.
Sam would have gotten the second vote but it didn't meet my standards of what a 'poem' is. It read more like a beautifully-crafted rant/prose. As a result, I didn't vote for a second poem just out of principle.
when a city of makeshift facades would not
and his shelter brought his protection sought
me from those crowds of superficiality
engaged in their mannequin speech
with the mask of a thousand faces
in the eyes of dishonest gazes
bearing the expressions of genuine lies
he called me south-bound west
and with resolve i fled
onwards offwards beyond words
for the transition was pleasant
since he never judged without a court
never sighed unless the birds flew
and he even cried too
when the weather was blue
so i shed a tear back to show my thankful dues
I must have sinned in the last life,
because I'm wallowing now that karma's caught up
since your fate is not here, entwined with mine
what must I have done a lifetime ago,
to have lost the warmth of your companionship
in the clutches of frugality, society and superficiality
whether it's this period of existence
or the next
or even the one after
could I not foresee losing your support
so maybe that I'm too sentimental
or perhaps a little bit dazed
when it comes to all things relating to you
and all things related to me,
I could have done without
if it meant not having said "enjoy the rest of your days"
knowing full well that I wouldn't be in it
especially now, that later has come
you've already moved on
and I'm wondering why
I didn't apologize when it mattered.
Let this be a lesson in that if a deal seems too good to be true online, you should probably back away from it.
Assume that all cards are in M/NM quality unless stated otherwise.
Trade 1
Pile A:
Lotus Petal (x4)
Infernal Tutor (x4)
Silence
Past in Flames
Pile B:
Sylvan Library [LEGENDS]
Abrupt Decay (x2)
Trade 2
Pile A:
Ash Zealot
Desecration Demon
Mizzium Mortars
Pile B:
Omniscience
Detention Sphere
1 NM- Volcanic Island
Pile B
1 Mint Judge Foil Karakas
Which pile?