you just never shut up (13+)

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Points 18178
Reviews 1259
you like to hide behind curtains of
greasy spilt end hairs
and watch the world
through a filtered mask
so nobody can laugh at your bruised face,
or slash you with hand-shielded giggles
from young girls
with silly plaits and ribbons

sunlight can't penetrate
so hate breeds freely
and spreads an unstoppable virus
to the depths of your toes
and tips of your crooked, claw-like fingers
which you devoured his eyes with
and left him unable to cry
and he forgot to die
or even send you roses
on february the fucking fourteenth

one unforgettable day
the winds of truth will arise
and we'll see your true eyes
stained with the souls
of buried relationships
and shining with sabres
sharp shimmering sabres
that slice hearts in two
kill everyone who comes within two feet
of your sweet
precious complexion.

but even the freezing cold ice
of late winter can't chill
your piercing glances
or late night trances
and psychedelic dances
peace and love, far out
said the poisonous acid
but this ain't the swinging sixties
and you ain't the fucking queen
but with the purple robes
and glimmering jewels
you think you can be
or at least, think you should be

so boys on muddy knees
queue round the corner
hold out circular treasures
they bought from market
and dream of being princes
riding strong irish geldings
but all you want from them
is satisfaction and adoration
exultation and glorification
but never any justification

as if your miniscule
gravitional pull
could really force the globe
to spin round you

you do know that
everyone hates autocracy
and people eat puppies
just like you told them
as their heart stopped beating
i don't care
about crowns and money
i just want to see
your hands turn bloody again
when one of your victims
spontaneously combusts
in your pathetic weak arms




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 890
Reviews 324
Firestarter wrote:you like to hide behind curtains of
greasy spilt end hairs


i think here you meant 'split' - correct me if im wrong
here...

Firestarter wrote:and watch the world
through a filtered mask
so nobody can laugh at your bruised face,


i really like this part, not really gunna be able to
explain why - i just like the idea of watching the
world through a mask...

Firestarter wrote:or slash you with hand-shielded giggles
from young girls
with silly plaits and ribbons


i dont like this bit so much - its still good poetry, its
just that i dont like the scary image i get in my mind...
(scary yr7s with bunches & stuff...)

Firestarter wrote:sunlight can't penetrate
so hate breeds freely
and spreads an unstoppable virus
to the depths of your toes
and tips of your crooked, claw-like fingers
which you devoured his eyes with
and left him unable to cry
and he forgot to die


i love this part - strange but this is the sort of
imagery that i like... very dramatic.

Firestarter wrote:or even send you roses
on february the fucking fourteenth


i see why you wrote "13+" now... still although
i dont particularly like swearing, i think it fits in
this poem sooo... i think i can let you off! lol :wink:

Firestarter wrote:one unforgettable day
the winds of truth will arise
and we'll see your true eyes
stained with the souls
of buried relationships
and shining with sabres
sharp shimmering sabres
that slice hearts in two
kill everyone who comes within two feet
of your sweet
precious complexion.


this is also a very dramatic part which i have
to say i think is amazing... again i love the imagery
especially this part:

the winds of truth will arise
and we'll see your true eyes
stained with the souls
of buried relationships


Firestarter wrote:but even the freezing cold ice
of late winter can't chill
your piercing glances
or late night trances
and psychedelic dances
peace and love, far out
said the poisonous acid
but this ain't the swinging sixties
and you ain't the fucking queen
but with the purple robes
and glimmering jewels
you think you can be
or at least, think you should be


this bit works but its really quite strange... sorta
gets weird halfway through and then just gets
weirder...

Firestarter wrote:so boys on muddy knees
queue round the corner
hold out circular treasures
they bought from market
and dream of being princes
riding strong irish geldings
but all you want from them
is satisfaction and adoration
exultation and glorification
but never any justification


i love the end part of this - its got a real rhythm to
this and it flows...

Firestarter wrote:as if your miniscule
gravitional pull
could really force the globe
to spin round you


the 'gravity' image is an interesting one - original and
not too cliche.

Firestarter wrote:you do know that
everyone hates autocracy
and people eat puppies
just like you told them
as their heart stopped beating
i don't care
about crowns and money
i just want to see
your hands turn bloody again
when one of your victims
spontaneously combusts
in your pathetic weak arms


SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION!!! that is such an
amazing way to finish, the last few lines i mean...

overall i think this is very good... there are a few
odd parts but theres some really nice imagery as
well...

WELL DONE FIRE! :P




User avatar
Gender Male
Points 18178
Reviews 1259
wow, thanks for the long critique! Didnd't expect such a response. Makes up for the fact no one else commented! It was quite long, the longest poem I think I've been motivated to ever do, so yeh, some parts aren't so good.
Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.




User avatar
Gender Female
Points 1049
Reviews 52
wow. i don't really have much to say, seems everthings bin covered but, i liked it though some bits freaked me out like the bit about slashing people with gigles or sumin, weird.

have a nice day
bluecows :wink:
To see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower,
hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. – William Blake

I was lying in bed, watching the stars and i thought, 'where the hell is the ceiling?' :wink:



Have a biscuit, Potter.
— Professor McGonagall