Poetry / Prose
I
Random thoughts race corridors of post cerebral cortex. . . like electricity coursing through electrodes. . . my neurons fire haphazard. . . synapse gaps snapping. . . like dreams overlapping. . . the brain cannot dissect. . . Truth from fantasy. . . as little demons grind in the hall. . . Jacob’s Ladders, hiss and crackle. . . as neon and black light glow. . . My Museum. . . My Mind. . . one entity of solemn soul. . . The music is the rattle of the cage. . . the cage, my subconscious urge to internalize. . . I rattle and reject the cage. . . pour myself upon the page. . . the page turns like a worm. . . and the worm turns like a snake eats it’s tail. . . and I am breaking out. . . I arm wrestle the gods for my freedom. . . one on one with the universe. . . the cosmos circles the heavens. . . the sparkle of bright winking stars. . . halo for eternity. . . atom for atom. . . the electrons embrace. . . as photons race through space. . . from my place and outward to space. . . the void undulates. . . expanding. . . then collapsing on it’s self. . . internal combustion. . . imploding super nova. . . igniting the epidermis atomic/molecular fabric. . . the molten mesh swirls and spews gaseous matter. . . hurling and radiating. . . light years of travel. . . before it warms my face. . . upon my face in my place. . . I feel the fabric. . . I touch the lace. . . double weave of synchronicity. . . entwined in electron’s embrace. . . inter-locking fingers. . . walking hand in hand. . . strut stars cape. . . late night. . . early morn. . . Love loran lost lovers. . . Sun and Moon chase. . . the zenith’s arc. . . the planets revolve this axis. . . and rule the actions of man. . . the weight and gravity. . . pulling, tugging and pushing. . . tides rise and fall. . . ebb and flow. . . in and out. . . coming and going. . . from here to there and back. . . unfolding. . . enveloping. . . encompassing all in a wall. . . the curvature of space. . . as photons race. . . and electrons embrace.
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This all means absolutely nothing to me. I suppose it you stood up at a slam and read it real fast people would applaude, but I don’t think they’d get anything out of it either.
Some of your phrases are aesthetically pleasing, half-rhymes and the like…
urbis ate a lot of formatting recently, but I’m guessing that isn’t the case, with all the elipses – true? If yes: I cannot understand why it is laid out the way it is. I see it is called prose, but I can’t see that being reason enough.
If no: please use elipses in the right way. Punctuation is the reader’s guide in literature, you have to use some.
Keep it up.
Love, love.
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I liked this. The style is unusual, yet familiar. It is wonderful poetry, yet it is prose also.
I love the phrase ‘synapse gaps snapping’. Beautiful alliteration. And then rhyming ‘snapping’ with ‘overlapping’ was great. It makes the prose sounds so gentle, yet the words are complex. This seems like defamiliarisation, which is the definition of that which is literary.
I think the pace of the text keeps the reader enthralled. It speeds up and slows down at specific points, which also enhances the sound.
One criticism I have is the rhyming of ‘spaces’, ‘race’ and ‘embrace’ at the end. This is not necessarily bad, but it sounds forced compared to the rest of the text. One thing I look for in poetry is having to force myself to make something sounds good, and up until the end of this work I never had to do that.
DSW
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