The place for writers:
Upload your writing in minutes, receive peer feedback from other writers, poets, authors, then get your work published out there in the real world. Learn how other writers are doing it. |
|
 |
 |
 |
| |
PeerRank
PeerRank....
fucking PeerRank
It is pure rank, all right.
"sheer disgusting," for those
not so sharp with puns.
you all leave mindless fucking comments
to mindless fucking people
blowing insincre bullshiteries
up eachother's insincre holes
in THE HOPES
that you'll get such smoke
forced right back at you,
right up YOUR FUCKING ASS.
POEMS! ALL TRAVESTIES!
But you call them poems.
cheap grocerry store prints
of van gogh or monet,
trimmed with OH SO PROFOUND
abstract NOUNS.
you talk of LOVE, HATE,
WORLDS, MINDS, HEARTS.
but these things
DO NOT FUCKING EXIST.
excuse my language.
I think it adds a nice touch
adorning each one of these letters
and words, and sentences.
my high blood pressure,
your high language
my greasy forhead,
your greasy verbs
my shaking hands
trying to type "type"
i sit alone
in the darkness of my room
SCREAMING OBSENITIES at myself.
but I don't deserve this.
I know who Dickinson is.
I know who Ginsberg is.
I've lost HOURS of me
wondering what the tyger is
HOURS! wishing I could just
sit down and talk with prufrock
So, this... This is for you
I hope you all kill yourselves.
Want to comment on this Poetry?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|
[Back to top]
|
|
 |
Comment by: Tom - 2006-09-17 02:35
|
|
I think you're name is either excellent, or not excellent
I know this poem is a shambles
tom |
|
|
| I had to read this as I had just recently written a piece entitled "Peer Rank" as well. So I wanted to see what yours was. Interesting. Period. I won't talk about stanzas and meter, flow and the rawness of it because... *see above* |
 |
Comment by: - 2006-08-13 11:25
|
|
| Seems like purile amateur crap to me; the ramblings of a psuedo literate desperate to be seen to be edgy and fresh. All it succeeds in being is empty and pointless. Crap write, try harder. |
|
|
I know this so well... The acid under flesh, the flames bouncing around deep... The impossibility of people.
I remember screaming at an audience in bar of supposed cohorts, breaking a table, demanding understanding... met by blurred minds unwilling to stretch themselves past what society has made us into...
'Nobody really knows shit' was the dribble seeping from my mouth as the conclusion... They all seemed lost in a blackout.
'Nobody' as I hated myself for even venturing... In those days I cared, i believed, I felt I would be a newness to art & such. But during that ruin, only the so-called "grunge" moved forward for sure & sold-out horribly...
It's up to you, to me, to not believe so much in the rest, to find whatever for ourselves, & to write [or draw or film or whatever] for our own souls, not to be a truth on Oprah or the New York Times Bestsellers lists... I'm such a fucking preacher -- cut out my tongue!!!
"The bleeding eyes of a God can't be one's damaged sight," I grumble. "Faith can only run in the streams of blood and brain cells, in what one knows by experience." Words surely melting from my chapped lips in the polluted oxygen.
"If someone understands, then that is nice, but not the reason for scribbling," is my corrupt mantra. "Lucidity is the reason to tap-tap-tap into ourselves... making the echo of remorse."
Now, I'm ranting... Venting. A transient screaming at the passing current of flesh bugs during a lunch hour... Toss me a quarter. Maybe I'll get enough for a black coffee with some cream in it..
This is a necessary piece... If for anyone, for me... as I sink far into its depths.
Some Murk[ing],
jimmy |
|
|
I think you've found an edge for this set of work (the stuff on this account were you are being... honest? perhaps just honestly angry). But if you want to keep doing it, I'd like to see it honed. Afterall, I assume you want sharp and cutting, right. That this isn't some half-assed attempt to get under a few people's skin, but to push the bulk of us to get our shit together and actually work at what we profess to be doing?
On the other hand, if it's merely parady. it's not too bad and I can spot the bits of other's that you've pulled. I would have left the caps lock strictly for the profanities personally, since those are the lines people love to ask authors to cut in thier work. Just an observation. Stanzas 3 and 6 say more that most are going to get so they distract form the point perhaps.
Go ahead... edit, you know you want to ;) |
| 1 2 Next |
|
"Night Falling"
In Night Falling, Martin Chipperfield explores the aftermath of an unspeakable family tragedy. Rick Davis, an up-and-coming deejay on a metropolitan radio station, is finally given the coveted rush-hour slot, but as his career catapults to sublime levels his marriage collapses. Cover image by Al Balmer.
|
 |
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
| | Advertising - Terms & Conditions - Short Story Submissions - Contact - Writing Competitions - Writing Links - Book Promotion - Sky-Tribe.com - alanemmins.com |
|
|
|
|
| |
Member short stories, poems, comments and other contributions are owned by the poster.
Copyright 2003 - 2007 Edit Red I/S | | |
