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HypnoticMnemonic's profile
AGE:
19
LOC: Lyons, IL
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 19
LOC: Lyons, IL
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 19
I’m just a kid trying to write. If I could, I’d just crack my head on the edge of a sheet of paper and let you poke around in whatever comes out, take whatever you like and scotch tape it into a scrapbook. But I’ve been asked by my mother not to do that anymore. So I’ll stick to this pencil-paper method instead… for now.
I run a poetry forum on getunderground.com that you’re welcome on. I am also on Myspace and Livejournal (myspace.com/sicsempersoy, livejournal.com/users/in_italics). You’re welcome there, too, but bring cookies. Chocolate chip ones. And some milk.
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"I once had the soul of an Indian fly into my body after a car wreck in Arizona." I've been sitting here for two hours and this is what I got: an attempt to relate by an old man who always peeks out of the windows at the girls across the street before getting bored and staring outright. I'm tempted to ask if it was the soul of my grandfather, who met my grandmother in Arizona after she got knocked up by Elvis with her first child and desperately grabbed onto the first thing that would take he...
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I asked a folkie in a coffeeshop just the other day how many political songs you'd need to change a simple light bulb. It's a joke, Dave, I said. 'cause most words these days crack a lot but have no light to give And bullshit, however cleverly phrased, can never change a fuckin' thing.
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The teeth in my stomach get impatient often. The night blasts them into glass in its sprawling black furnace and cuts them with the sand in my throat. Every second I lay sleeping, I am keeping track of with my thoughts: I am wasting my life. I am wasting my life. I am wasting my life...
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We don't talk about it. I don't want to know about those scratches on your back just like you don't want to think about where the heck this collar came from. You don't want to think about who's holding the leash. I don't want to ask why you smell like a kennel a little more than usual this evening. You don't want to know if I was arrested or why, if not, these handcuffs are here at all. Maybe I don't want to tell you. Instead, hang coat up on knowing hook, sweep unfamiliar t-shirt from bedspr...
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From my hands and from my dreams, you are gone. From my doorway. From my doorway, you went like a stray cat traipsing along the edge of a razor-thin kerb, where once went tougher animals, prettier animals, where once went a smile that could cut hair and call it a parting gift. I can see you from my doorway. Bare, bony shoulderblade peeks from cover, the pillow where my absence attempts to sever your hands from the wall where my body lay now cradles the rough curve of your cheek. And Logic say...
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I hate going back to this all the time, but it's the best way that I can phrase it: "show, don't tell." You're giving an account of a lot of very important events and you have a lot of room to play with them. Instead of opening them up, however, I feel like you're just glossing them over and not giving them the attention to detail that they deserve. Describe them. Really make them breathe, you know what I mean? What's more, you use a lot of "me" in this poem, which is fine, but I think it doe...
That's not bad. I like some of the ideas that you bring forth, but I feel that they need to be made a little bit more... vivid, I guess is what I'm looking for. For example, in the second stanza, I'm a little confused by what you mean by "icy earth." That could be that I'm overcomplicating things but I'm wondering if you're referring to a specific time period or place, if only from my experience the earth isn't always icy. If you mean cold as in the feeling, I think better word choice can be ...
I thought that it was actually a pretty great piece. The imagery is very clear and vibrant, there's enough detail without it being unnecessarily long winded. The flow of it was great. Most of all, I like your voice, the cynical bite to it, a little bitterness. I didn't think your allusions were too culturally specific, although academically specific allusions can get people caught up and tend to make them focus on the wrong things. Nice work.
The thing about repetition is that there needs to be a very specific reason to repeat a phrase or a word or it just doesn't work. For example, to change the meaning a little bit with every repetition, or to change its relevance. You do that a little bit here, but in general, it just seems like textual stuttering. You have a few interesting ideas to present and some stylization, but I think that there's a lot here that can be cut, and that cutting, if done stylistically, will probably make it ...
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While I definitely applaud the honesty that you chose to display in this piece, there are a lot of things here that I think can be cut without the poem losing any of its impact. You throw a lot of information at the reader and not all of it is necessary to the story. Background is great, but focus is even better. Also, in my humble opinion, you seem to be really held back by your own rhyme scheme when it adds nothing to the piece at all.
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