echo bubbles

echo clinks of water on chains of concrete forming slivers of the false world false world which can't sing
you in your silver shoes with the silver rain leaving metallic stains down your cheeks haven't you ever
hated the silence of the world when there is no rain and the hush of the sun is hushing without a
sound cause i know i have hey you in your emerald tie with the emerald bubbles of water
in your eyes eyes which fling from one object to another one glimmer to another
have you enough energy to run for the both of us to get us out of this brown
tangle of stringy branches have you a loud enough voice to sing for the
both of us and reach the sky tickle it to make it pour with rain and
so your eyes can become an oil-painting again cause i'm kind
of sick of the new you you with the red eyelashes and the
black lips which hold the tiniest droplets driplets of red
rain pink rain you reflect in the coke puddles on the
city streets you reflect the pastels of the real
world real world lie sky lie sky you pick
up your brick and hurl it at the sky
and by god it never comes down
so my eyes are sticky-taped
to the blue waiting for any
sign of a speckle being
slung from the sky
ejected but not
a single dot
so you in
your blu
e canv
as ne
ver
di
e
an
d le
ave me
to fend f
or myself
for i fear if
you go so will
i soon enough c
ause i mean with
out you i don't think
the world would take me
i mean come on who am i
without you not much perhaps
my eyes would stay a little pink
but i'm not too sure and perhaps my
eyelashes would stay a little blue but
the world has decieved before countless
times can't the inky red of the sun enclose
you in this sanctuary of morning like the soft
wisps of smoke that follow you every place you
go along every road every trail that you leave behind
tastes of strawberry milk but then again the pink of your
words always was liquified was it not hey you you with the black
wounds on your arm that send out jagged rips of fire and smoke hey
you with the black cut on your head with the stains of blood looking pretty
but almost too pretty i think you went for the depressing-pretty look and it almost
worked almost hey you with the graze on your knee from the time you slipped on red wine
and went skidding into thorns are you okay babe cause i can see the tears welling like hot soapy bubbles.
written: Friday 19th march 2004, 11:15pm

This is good stream of consciousness poetry, and I like the form you put it in. You do a good job of relating the visual imagery through text and through structure!

Overall, I liked it.

This is a really amazing piece. I don't care greatly for the format, I think it makes it difficult to read, but visually it's very pleasing. I would love to hear this read aloud. Great job!

I really liked this. At first I think that the format sort of took away from the beauty of the poem but then I just sort of forgot about the form and read the words as they were. Wonderful. The repetition also helped the overall poem. My favorite line...considering there wasn't a least favorite part was:

your eyes can become an oil-painting again cause i'm kind
of sick of the new you you with the red eyelashes and the
black lips which hold the tiniest droplets driplets of red
rain pink rain you reflect in the coke puddles on the
city streets you reflect the pastels of the real
world real world lie sky lie sky you pick
up your brick and hurl it at the sky
and by god it never comes down

Your use of colors as emotions and overall descriptions is really nice. Yay you! Keep writing!

Keep it up!
~Rieda

This was brilliant, Liz. So fresh and original. The format was really interesting and you used stream-of-conciousness to great effect. I especially loved;

"so your eyes can become an oil-painting again cause i'm kind
of sick of the new you you with the red eyelashes and the
black lips which hold the tiniest droplets driplets of red".

The ending was great, and your imagery is amazing throughout.

Jas