Fitzgerald's Brains

our lips are engaged
in a cold war
and I can't help pointing my middle finger
up at Sputnik – a single pixel on the bitmap
of our radar – and screaming like
Jewish words trapped inside the flames
of a book burning.

you know, the Cubans were just trying to celebrate
the fourth of July
with those missiles.

and with our mouths sewn shut
like cesarean sections, closed tight
like lockets with momma's picture glued inside,
I can feel all those pent up arguments
knocking politely on my incisors
like door-to-door salesmen.

can't you see that Moscow
has a fever of 103 degrees and
is gulping down spoonfuls of sugar-capitalism as fast as they possibly can?

isn't it strange that the world is only big enough
to fit inside the porthole window
of Apollo 13?
isn't it strange that all our angry words
float weightless up towards the sun
like cosmonauts that have accidentally let go
of the spacecraft

and are now thoughts lost in the couch cushions by
old men with Alzheimer's.
love is tax-free, man.

we've all been spattered with a little bit
of reality, like Mrs Kennedy when she was
flecked with her husband's gray matter and
a lot of hate.
my ears are ringing with that shot still
and all of my attempts to kill myself
have been foiled by firemen with trampolines
waiting at the sidewalk for me to jump.

what's worse is that someone has tapped into our telephone
and I can hear them breathing
on the other end.

This poem is really hilarious. It feels like it’s half political commentary, half poem. It’s a unique style that I have never read before, somewhat cynical and dark, pessimistic almost, but nonetheless good-humored. I felt that style was your strong point here. It really effected the images, the language, the anecdotes—and vice versa.

A particular stylistic feature which I’m not sure whether I liked or not is your stanzas-long dives into extended metaphors and similes. In the first stanza, you start off with “our lips are engaged / in a cold war”. “In a cold war” is obviously a metaphor and an especially good one at that—yet you continue on with mentions of Sputnik, of Jews, of the Bible—and I feel like you start going off on tangents that are confusing and insignificant for the reader. It’s amazing that you compare a kiss to the cold war—but at what cost? Then again, I thought that in these tangents and dives you showed the best jokes, the best ironies, that it would be tragic to get rid of them.

I didn’t understand the narrative of the poem, and I don’t think I needed to, either. The poem didn’t go anywhere, but I think that that’s what you meant it to be—ongoing, reflective, going off and on about almost nothing and everything at once. You had some really wonderful insights in this poem:

“isn't it strange that the world is only big enough

to fit inside the porthole window

of Apollo 13?”

“we've all been spattered with a little bit

of reality, like Mrs Kennedy when she was

flecked with her husband's gray matter and

a lot of hate.”

These are so technical yet you make them feel so personal in this poem. I love it.

The ending was incredible. The last stanza, the one with the phone, was funny in that it was so realistic and yet so otherworldly and frightening, nervous, neurotic almost. The poem is neurotic. It’s a feast for the brain. I loved it.

Also about the first stanza: try to change it a little. Sputnik doesn’t really fit into here, and the image of the Jewish words screaming from a burning Bible doesn’t translate across quick enough because of your word choice of “trapped” and “book burning”—I suggest you get rid of “trapped” and change book burning into “Bible” or “Torah” or something. And why does it have to be Jewish?

I also didn’t understand the second stanza. How does it relate to the rest of the poem?

I liked your poem, too.
I'm not much for poetry, but all the random thoughts that somehow were sewn together to make sense was really interesting.
The ending part was definitely my favorite. With the firemen and then the phone. The phone part was kind of creepy, but maybe that's why I liked it =P

Well, I think I got the meaning of the poem. Lots of imagery, lots of different images, but they all come about under a unifying theme. I am guess your poem is about to people that are at a standstill and are unable to communicate with each other. For me, I got the feeling of a lover's quarrel of some kind. If so, it was a really unique way of picturing it. My only real criticism (bare with me, I'm sleepy) is mostly due to the fact that in concerns to the Moscow Stanza "they" should be "it" since once country is singular.

Oh, and that part about the firemen, i really don't understand how it ties in to the general allusion of cold war and politics, maybe I need to brush up on my history, but somehow it doesn't fit with the whole mood of the poem. It moves away from the theme and makes it choppy. Might I suggest using a different allusion what adheres more closely to the theme? Like maybe a man in a suit telling you your not allowed to jump off government buildings or something of the sort. It makes it seem more like someone is stopping you from doing what you want, instead of trying to save you which is usually the connotation given to firemen.


Man this turned out long,

Yatta!

*runs into thread, screeches to halt* I'm here, finally, I promised I would come!

Okay. I think this poem suffers from having too many allusions in it. It's like you're trying really, really hard to make it a political commentary, but it's like a cake...you can only put so many frosting roses on top. If you have too many, the cake is both ugly and nasty-tasting. Everything in moderation.

you know, the Cubans were just trying to celebrate
the fourth of July
with those missiles.

For example, I think this is a pointless stanza; I don't see its relevance to the poem and I feel like it's there just to say, "Look, I know things about the Cold War! Let me say something wry!"
The same sort of "this is irrelevant" feeling applies to the sections on Moscow and Mrs. Kennedy as well.

Overall I think the bulk of the allusions makes the poem itself difficult to understand; you're trying to say something about the world but you trip over another historical reference every time. I think you have some wonderful lines, but they're vague. There's something wrong with the world and there's something dangerous about where it's going, that sense I understand, but I need something more concrete to really get my teeth into this poem. You have a lot of "zinger" lines that clearly point out your ability to use an historical reference in an interesting way, but you're not incorporating that into the poem as a whole, and it still needs to be pulled together.

and with our mouths sewn shut
like cesarean sections, closed tight
like lockets with momma's picture glued inside,
I can feel all those pent up arguments
knocking politely on my incisors
like door-to-door salesmen.

For example, the first three lines are just fantastic, especially the cesarean sections simile, because it has so many dimensions to it. The second part reiterates in more confused terms what the first part said perfectly. If the speaker's mouth is sewn shut, he obviously isn't talking, but then you say that anyway, personifying the arguments and then comparing them to door-to-door salesman, which is just annoying to imagine once you get to the end of it all. Simplify! Why should we have a billion metaphors for the same thing when one would be just as, if not more, powerful?

Best of luck!
Colleen

Very interesting! You had me from beginning to end! Which, I'll let you know, is an accomplishment since I usually loose interest half-way through!

Grammar was lackluster.
Content was exciting.
The poem was intriguing.

I suggest editing the grammar, and, you will have one solid poem.

Adrian

I loved this! You weaved together history and humor all in eight stanza's! I really found it hilarious- and I didn't spot any Spelling, Grammar or Punctuation mistakes. I'm sorry, but I don't have any critique to give you. Maybe I could review another piece of writing of yours. Leave a comment on my profile if you're looking for a review!

Take care!

-Ember

this intrigued me from beginning to end.

i love love love the way you used historical allusions. but it is still really evident evident that this is just a story about people. you got the overarching themes and the specific details nailed perfectly.

i love the subtlety. the way the title fits in with the stanza about mrs kennedy. but not at first glance. it requires the most delicious types of connections for the reader.

you are a master of the poetic simile. this is the type of writing i would like to turn out.
well done.

Haha, this was a fun poem. ^^ That is... I liked it because of the allusions to history and the very ironical way it was written. So let's go through it!

I have to agree with Cade... I think it tries to do too much. So let's go through it, and I'll strike things out. I won't explain since that would take longer and... well... I don't even know if you're still interested in working on this poem since it's a bit old, but whatever!



our lips are engaged

in a cold war

and I can't help pointing my middle finger

[s]up [/s]at Sputnik – a single [s]pixel[/s] [don't use pixel -- word wasn't in use then. Point is better] on the bitmap

of our radar – and screaming like

Jewish words trapped inside the flames

of a book burning.



[s]you know, the Cubans were just trying to celebrate

the fourth of July

with those missiles.[/s]



and with our mouths sewn shut

like cesarean sections, closed tight

like lockets with momma's picture glued inside,

I can feel all those pent up arguments

knocking politely on my incisors

like door-to-door salesmen.



can't you see that Moscow

has a fever of 103 degrees and

is gulping down spoonfuls of sugar-capitalism as fast as they possibly can?



[s]isn't it strange that[/s] the world is only big enough

to fit inside the porthole window

of Apollo 13[s]?

isn't it strange that[/s] [and] all our angry words

float weightless up towards the sun

[s]like cosmonauts that have accidentally let go

of the spacecraft[/s]


[s]
and are[/s] now thoughts lost in the couch cushions by

old men with Alzheimer's.

love is tax-free, man.



we've all been spattered with a little bit

of reality, like Mrs Kennedy when she was

flecked with her husband's gray matter [s]and

a lot of hate.[/s]

my ears are ringing with that shot still

and all of my attempts to kill myself

have been foiled by firemen with trampolines

waiting at the sidewalk for me to jump.



what's worse is that someone has tapped into our telephone

and I can hear them breathing

on the other end.