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Wild, Wicked Worker of Words
I want to be cool. I want to be the one carrying a gun in my coat pocket, sucking on a smoke and winking at some fearful stranger. I want to sit on the curb and flick my simmering cigarette onto a thin trail of gasoline that leads so smoothly into an enemy's apartment building. I want people to follow behind me, struggling to keep up with my long strides, each fighting the other to have a conversation with me.
I want to be dirty. I want to smell like something dead and rotted; something totally unrecognizable. I want to repulse the respectable, and bring them to their knees in fear when I need to. I want my stride to match a blues beat; a heavy, sturdy rhythm with a heart wrenching blues guitar riff that screams how the ground feels as my hard heels pound into it.
I want to be evil. I want to show no mercy, kill the innocent, strangle the little old ladies who can't drive over 25. I want to trip children in the street when a drunk driver in a pickup is wailing around at a high speed. I want to rip the wings off dragonflies, tear legs off daddy longlegs, chop the heads off flustered chickens, pull the hearts out of the insane and immobile citizens of... wherever.
I want to be unstoppable, earth-shattering, heart-stopping, murderous, vengeful, sleazy, powerful.
I want to be a wild, wicked worker of words... and I think that's what I am.
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Wonderful piece, very free, direct, honest. It struck me like an anthem singing from my very bones.
Just a couple of critiques-
Par. 1 Line 2-the cigarette shouldn't be simmering before it hits the gasoline.
Par. 2 Line 3-"heart wrenching" ought to be "heart-wrenching"
Again, great piece, and thanks for the read!
Lydia |
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| Deeply rooted imagery there, very good. I could see those children being left in the streets. Especially the bit about flicking a cigarette into a trail of gasoline leading to an enemy's apartment building. I can feel the connection the emotions of the moment there. |
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Comment by: Heath - 2007-07-20 15:05
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I have to agree with Boonrassi. "um...............damn" was put in the dictionary just for you, Kadie. The sentence that got me was:
"I want my stride to match a blues beat; a heavy, sturdy rhythm with a heart wrenching blues guitar riff that screams how the ground feels as my hard heels pound into it."
And the end ... I've been there. I have written something intangibly cool, sat back, read it, and realized, I wrote that. And yeah, it is "... and I think that's what I am," because I don't really pound the pavement 'til it screams, but, let me put out the words, and for a moment, I can believe. |
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| i feel like this is one of those poems that comes from that feeling where if you can't have some thing, you become the oppiste. |
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um...............damn.
I want to be cool. I want to be the one carrying a gun in my coat pocket, sucking on a smoke and winking at some fearful stranger.
//ultra cool.
a thin trail of gasoline that leads (so) smoothly into an enemyâ??s apartment building.
//forget about qualifying with 'so'. its a novice thing.
I want people to follow behind me, struggling to keep up with my long strides, each fighting the other to have a conversation with me.
/thats really awesome man.
I want to be dirty. I want to smell like something dead and rotted; something totally unrecognizable. I want to repulse the respectable, and bring them to their knees in fear when I need to. I want my stride to match a blues beat; a heavy, sturdy rhythm with a heart wrenching blues guitar riff that screams how the ground feels as my hard heels pound into it.
//holy smoke.
I want to be a wild, wicked worker of words... (and) I think that's what I am.
id like an em dash instead of ellipses at the end. but no biggie.
..of words-- I think that's what I am.
//i dont like the 'i think' after all that hardcore concreteness.
Kadie this is fantastic, it was a thrill to read. loved it.
it blows the writing tek displayed in RES out of the water.
( /)
( . . )
c(")(")
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