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Whole Face Genocide



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Thu Apr 29, 2010 2:54 pm
tanith14 says...



Whole Face Genocide

The tip of a nose.

The tip of a nose extending forward slightly to the left.

On the tip of that nose is a little red blotch extending forward to the left, jutting out at me like an accusation. Extending…

Behind the little nose that extends forward to the left, jutting out at me like an accusation is a freckled face framed by cascading, orange curls. Awful red dot, blotching the tip of the….nose.

Nose goes. Nose knows not where it goes, opens up slightly to the left, so I can see a freckled framed face with orange hair. Locks that lock me out in flames... ears hear nothing while I scream obscene things about
the tip of a nose extending slightly to the left.

Fish lips always remain silent. Once those rubbery muscles start, all they do is open and close. Complete silence. I would know. I have slept here before, slightly left.

My hatred knows no bounds for this elitist ginger. It encompasses those freckles and red blotches, those accusing eyes highlighted by bushy eyebrows and filmy contacts. It encompasses those dead fish lips. A whole face genocide. Leaning to the left.

Suddenly, I am torn between sacred silence of consent and the violent voice of a thousand fists up a… nose.
All of these things I could have loved. One time I found beauty in Rudolph, but now only, a great defector. And I, the комисса́р, shot the loving private.

The mortal wound leaning slightly left.
Last edited by tanith14 on Sat May 01, 2010 10:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
If there is one thing in the world I CAN'T stand it is the Redwings.
  





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Thu Apr 29, 2010 6:54 pm
Velvet.whispers says...



Dear Tanith,
I like this, a lot,
It's one of the most original pieces I've read here.
Your rhythm is wonderful, and the repetition is brilliantly carried out!
Well done!
Just a few things, who is this elitist ginger, why elitist?
I like the humour and the nonsenseness of this, but i would keep it light untill the fall which is very surprising and quite violent, even disturbing. This poem is exactly what writing should be about, childish, not making sense, and yet ringing such a profound bell within each and everyone of us!
Well done.
  





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Sat May 01, 2010 1:00 am
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Navita says...



This was exceptionally clever and I enjoyed it. However, it doesn't read like a poem as such, so I'd recommend putting it in 'Other Fiction' as well as trying to break it up into stanzas a lot more - instead of leaving it to spread itself out randomly like this. It looks rather unprofessional as it is, and that's a shame, since it's so cutely and thoughtfully written.

tanith14 wrote:Whole Face Genocide

The tip of a nose.

The tip of a nose extending forward slightly to the left.

On the tip of that nose is a little red blotch extending forward to the left, jutting out at me like an accusation. Extending…

Behind the little nose that extends forward to the left, jutting out at me like an accusation is a freckled face framed by cascading, orange curls. Awful red dot, blotching the tip of the….nose.


That was FUNNY. I love it when people get creative with the way they write, and this was a stroke of genius - revealing nuggets of information like morsels to us, dangling them in front of our eyes, wanting us to find out more, and where this is leading and why. It made me think of a film - from extreme close up, moving out to a wider shot - very nice. I liked how you agonised over every miniscule detail, as if you are looking in a mirror as you write this and moving further and further away.

There's such a pointed focus on the 'nose' which was humorous as well as good for centering the piece. Also, besides being insanely meticulous about everything, there is an element of extreme annoyance in this - 'jutting, accusation, awful' - which, when coupled with the short sentence/phrase descriptions gives it a really cute feel.

tanith14 wrote:Nose goes. Nose knows not where it goes, opens up slightly to the left, so I can see a freckled framed face with orange hair. Locks that lock me out in orange flames... elephant ears hear nothing while I scream obscene things about the little red spot on the tip of a nose extending slightly to the left.


'Nose goes' was not too my liking. Too obvious - a cliche of following your nose. 'Nose knows not where it goes' was also too obvious in the rhyme and seemed to try too hard to be cute, whereas the previous parts were cute all by themselves. I didn't like the repeat of freckles and orange hair - as if you're scrambling around for imagery. 'Locks that lock me out' is an intriguing thought - but again, this should have been more subtle for it to work (shouldn't the locks lock you in? - oh, and you've said orange three times now). 'Elephant ears' was cliche, 'screaming obscene things' sounded off - so, there's something about the nose annoying the narrator, is that right? I don't think repeating it was necessary. We get a distinct sense of annoyance from the other parts.

I'd recommend removing this part entirely and/or incorporating any new details into the other parts.

Fish lips always remain silent. Once those rubbery muscles start, all they do is open and close. Complete silence. I would know. I have slept here before, slightly left.


At this point, I was beginning to lose interest. It seemed almost too self-centred here - at first, it was endearing. Now, it became ridiculous. 'Fish lips, rubbery muscles' seemed disjointed with the rest - sort of taking away the focus from the nose, such a quirky feature. I liked the precision of 'I have slept here before, slightly to the left.' - have you repeated 'left' here again?

My hatred knows no bounds for this elitist ginger. It encompasses those freckles and red blotches, those accusing eyes highlighted by bushy eyebrows and filmy contacts. It encompasses those dead fish lips. A whole face genocide. Leaning to the left.


The first line in that part was too tip-toe-around-the-rhino-in-the-living-room-in-a-glaringly-obvious-manner for me. 'Hatred' and 'elitist' looked incredibly out of place there - too formal, too structured and rigid for this cute, intimate poem. We know you're annoyed yes, but the hatred and obscene screaming just ruin that sweetness. Repetition is getting rather tedious here - freckles, red blotches, accusing eyes, fish lips. On the one hand, you WANT to annoy us with the repeated descriptions to make US sick of the face. On the other, you're also making us fed up with the poem as a whole. Do something about this.

I found the 'face genocide' part intriguing when I read it in the title. But I did not see what it had to do with anything else here. So...this poems about insecurity of one's image and appearance, is that right? Being annoyed with personal image etc and being narcissistic and focussed-inwards? Well, I don't see where genocide came in. I like the vague idea behind it, but as yet, it's not tacked on particularly elegantly to the stanza/para as a whole.


Suddenly, I am torn between sacred silence of consent and the violent voice of a thousand fists up your… nose.
All of these things I could have loved. One time I found beauty in Rudolph, but now only the fish lips, a great defector. And I, the комисса́р, shot the loving private.

The mortal wound leaning slightly left.


I really had no idea what was going on here. I have a strange feeling the poem is actually now talking about insecurity of image resulting from some deformation caused by a fight with someone else - is this correct? Do note that this should have been far more obvious, and not skirted around with vague phrases randomly plonked in the poem/piece. 'Mortal wound' was just too grandiose and over-the-top. The piece as a whole started off brilliantly, but became more and more disjointed as it progressed; better integration of the theme was required to make it work.

PM me if you have any questions. I'd love to know how this piece turns out. And do something about the formatting - why doesn't it look like a poem in the slightest?
  





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Sat May 01, 2010 7:23 pm
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Evi says...



Hey Tanith.

EDIT: I'm going to get someone to move this into Other fiction, if that's okay with you-- it seems more like experimental prose than poetry.

EDIT 2: You could move it back to poems on your own (as the author you have that power) but I'll go ahead and move it make at your defense and request.

Locks that lock me out in orange flames... elephant ears hear nothing while I scream obscene things about the little red spot on the tip of a nose extending slightly to the left.

Fish lips always remain silent. Once those rubbery muscles start, all they do is open and close. Complete silence. I would know. I have slept here before, slightly left.


This is all a big bucket of contradictory description. First the character is screaming...but then they always remain silent But, no! Then (once they start) they keep opening and closing. And then...wait, still silent?

And what does sleeping here have anything to do with it?

Sort out what you're trying to say here, because it's not coming across.

Suddenly, I am torn between sacred silence of consent and the violent voice of a thousand fists up your… nose.
All of these things I could have loved. One time I found beauty in Rudolph, but now only the fish lips, a great defector. And I, the комисса́р, shot the loving private.

The mortal wound leaning slightly left.


What really confused me here was your use of the word "your". The second person kind of throws things out of perspective for me-- who exactly is this narrator, and whose exactly is this face? Up until this point I had assumed this was about self-image and vanity, etc, looking in a mirror and disliking what the MC saw-- but "your" doesn't make sense in that context. If the story is actually about this narrator looking at the face of another, the idea's a bit underdeveloped and we need more emotion beneath that for it to make any sense.

And this part: "All of these things...but now only the fish lips, and great defector" could use exploring. What was the catalyst hat brought about the change in opinion? They could have loved the image, but now they seem to despise it? Why? What set off that kind of reaction?

Overall, this was unique and interesting, but kind of hazy, like an unfocused camera lens. I could never entirely pinpoint which character(s) was/were involved and what exactly this face represented. I think the idea is fabulous and the way your language gradually spins into longer phrases and a wider perspective is really neat, but try to (excuse the photography metaphor) steady your camera to make sure you're capturing a clear snapshot of what you want the reader to think.

And I love the repetition of "slightly leaning to the left". Very interesting-- I'm looking forward to seeing more of your work around the site! PM me for anything.

~Evi
"Let's eat, Grandma!" as opposed to "Let's eat Grandma!": punctuation saves lives.
  





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Sat May 01, 2010 10:29 pm
tanith14 says...



I appreciate the comments, but I must defend that this is a poem and should not be moved to other fiction. To say that this looks unprofessional is a bit uppity if you ask me. There are many contemporary poets that have move unconventional styles than this piece, yet they are considered poets.

I have made some changes to the piece in order to make it flow better. I think some of the comments were spot on about the confusion with the narrator.

This isn't a piece about someone's face getting mangled due to a fight, rather, the point of the poem rests in the last lines:

All of these things I could have loved. One time I found beauty in Rudolph, but now only, a great defector. And I, the комисса́р, shot the loving private.

The english translation for a комисса́р is commissar or political officer of the Russian military who shoots defectors. If you can figure that part out you should be able to understand the rest of the poem.

Cheers.
If there is one thing in the world I CAN'T stand it is the Redwings.
  








Generally speaking, a howling wilderness does not howl: it is the imagination of the traveler that does the howling.
— Henry David Thoreau