Platinum_Words's profile
AGE:
22
LOC: New Hyde Park, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 14
LOC: New Hyde Park, NY
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: August 14
I’m a 21 year old writer from New York. Major influences/favorite writers include the brilliant Chuck Palahniuk, modern and post-modern theorists like Louis Althusser and Ruth Hubbard, and rock star/poet Jim Morrison. My work varies; I pretty much like to dabble in a bit of everything. I hope to be of help to other aspiring writers and in the meantime learn things about the art of words myself. Please don’t hesitate to contact me through the mail center, my works, or works of yours I have commented on.
My motto:
“I believe that I should question everything, including questioning everything.”
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The sharp edges of the charms on Cameron’s left wrist’s bracelet and the spikes on her right wrist’s bracelet cut into his hands, a dozen or so tiny needle pricks puncturing his palms. “You saw him, didn’t you?” Cesar loosened his grip on Cameron’s wrists, only to grab her forearms. However, it was still too late; the charms and spikes had already dug into his skin and bestowed their mark, the penetration leaving little red holes the size of clogged p...
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The sharp edges of the charms on her bracelets cutting into his hands felt like a thousand tiny pricks. "I fucking hate that you keep secrets from me!" Cesar tried to loosen his grip on Cameron’s forearms, along with the bracelets around them, but he was well aware that each time he loosened his grip his hands only edged closer towards her neck. The charms digging into him were already penetrating through the skin of his hands and probably the skin of her arms, as well, leavin...
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The pick-up slithers down the street. There's a dead old woman on the passenger side kissing her run-down husband's feet. It's gonna be a long ride. A young man waits in the backseat to take his father's place at the wheel while a dead old woman stays by the feet of a man that is not real...
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Join the Hype I'm sick of cock(e)Y men strut-tut-Tuting down the street, but it's the Ra-key female Ten that gets under my skin, so I seethe that gets into my heart, til I bleed... Out of lungs, I breathe Wisdom-dum-dumb, tricks of tongue... Unspeakable directions seek execution through the meek they breed, so execute me, just acute me. Unwittingly, willingly, want-only free... What?
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Recollection of a (More than Momentarily) Discarded Movement The long-untrained muscle shudders at the familiar strain Found through the execution of previously untried exercises. Memory of the old movement suddenly brought to light Failed years of repression no longer left for postmortem hind-sight. But forgetting to forget only leads to new fight... Drawn back to the right... -for now.
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Overall lovely lyrics, strong chorus and bridge. Mostly, I'd suggest tweaking the lyrics a bit to stay on an easy beat. In the first chorus, perhaps making daylight day would make it flow more easily. I think the second chorus might need some more serious tweaking in the first four lines, it just reads rough to me. Crowds gather at the ATM's if it's night-time and a lot of people aren't out and about, which is why you want to warn about anyway considering thugs usually don't attack unless som...
Simple statements, but sometimes brilliance comes with simple. You have an excellent capacity for rhythm and rhyme, I can see this in an anthology of ironic poem-songs for children with beautiful illustrations along with old time favs like Ring Around the Rosie. My only suggestion is to maybe reconsider the title, I think something more lively might work better for the actual content of the poem. Maybe a mention in the title of who the "demon" could be in the sky? Don't know if this is who yo...
Beautiful imagery, comparison of the idea to a shadow and the mind's reflection to a corridor, the rose to yourself, the moon to the forsaken lover. My only suggestion is that you seem to begin showing how the forsaken lover's heart suffers as well from loss of the love in verse 3, and then by the next 2 verses pain is left for the rose alone, as though the forsaken lover/moon only "forgot" her and moved on. Perhaps a final verse to reveal the forsaken lover's pain, maybe through the moon's a...
There is a lot of true emotion brimming throughout this piece. I love the comparison of the held in breath to the missing child, somewhat like the comparison of the ceramic pot to the unspecified son. The ending truly touched me, as I wondered if the blue ceramic pot was an urn containing the remnants of a deceased son or a mere symbol of his absence, through death or some other cause. If leaving this absence a mystery or up to interpretation was intended, it was done so flawlessly. My major ...
It was funny. I don't really have any suggestions for improvement within the actual piece, but maybe playing with the format in a couple ways would add to its hilarity. For example, perhaps first having a tools or materials section before the current ("steps") section, aka setting it up almost like a scientific experiment for the amateur scientist,would be good to try.
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