lunar wombs

Halt! im not being unintelligible for naught, and there are metaphors.


Beat is not in tea shades
Not in peasant wanderings
Or the singular glare of a
Jugular attachment
Or libertine circles
Its in hope, and intellect
Illumination
Light of the world
At the end of a cigarette
Lights of the world
Drawing lines of fire down
The Wahakme way, to lunar wombs
Forgetting the agencies and agents
Of Americas own sleeper cells,
Fire bread crumbles to a spleen of distended angst.
Municipal, alone and pretended into
Cold water sweat
Whisky in the church, splashed on the
Pavement, fences barbed our way
To Calvary where the copper men
Came with harlequin senses of long dead Gods.

Wow. That's a lot of metaphors. Usually, I'm not a fan of metaphor-loaded poems, but I really liked this. Except in some places it got a bit confusing, couldn't follow where you were going half the time... Something about hope and intellect being the light, I think. but maybe you could make this more clear? There's a message here, I know it, I just...can't find it...Good job with the cryptic metaphors though, and I like the title!

thanks man

errtu2 wrote:Halt! im not being unintelligible for naught, and there are metaphors.


Beat is not in tea shades
Not in peasant wanderings
Or the singular glare of a
Jugular attachment
Or libertine circles
Its in hope, and intellect
Illumination
Light of the world
At the end of a cigarette
Lights of the world
Drawing lines of fire down
The Wahakme way, to lunar wombs
Forgetting the agencies and agents
Of Americas own sleeper cells,
Fire bread crumbles to a spleen of distended angst.
Municipal, alone and pretended into
Cold water sweat
Whisky in the church, splashed on the
Pavement, fences barbed our way
To Calvary where the copper men
Came with harlequin senses of long dead Gods.

"This is gawdawful"- Ernest Hemingway

I can do it too... It's really not helpful at all is it? Think on.

as usual, you have produced a thoughtful work that is epic in its implications. when i first read this poem (that was a while ago), i was suddenly inspired to begin writing poetry myself. so i really have you to thank for getting me to where i am. i am confident that you will become a major voice of our generation. congrats.
-zalarus

I do not deserve that high praise my friend.

sir, you are a poetic force. i am confident you will be at the forefront of the next great literary movement. anything less would be a gross injustice.

ah, now i am beginning to believe that this site really does house literature after all. onto the matter...

errtu2 wrote:Beat is not in tea shades
Not in peasant wanderings
Or the singular glare of a
Jugular attachment
Or libertine circles

this is the first time i haven't had to point out a blatant first-stanza error. timing and line breaks were perfect, i could feel the blood pumping through the artificial tongue of the masses onto the ground, could sense the vibrations of shift from peace to temptation, etc. an admirable job.

Its in hope, and intellect

very minor suggestion: "Its" sounds unduly formal for such a dark romantic piece, I would cut it out entirely or replace it with something less offensive to the eyes if you really want to keep the same number of syllables.

Illumination
Light of the world
At the end of a cigarette
Lights of the world
Drawing lines of fire down
The Wahakme way, to lunar wombs

remarkable use of allusions to further the point. am i right in extrapolating that this poem is about the distortions of reality and fantasy of the mind's delusion? something along those lines?

Forgetting the agencies and agents
Of Americas own sleeper cells,
Fire bread crumbles to a spleen of distended angst.

interesting interruption here, using modern analogies to tag along ancient metaphors. i haven't seen it done before very much but i like it.

Municipal, alone and pretended into
Cold water sweat
Whisky in the church, splashed on the
Pavement, fences barbed our way
To Calvary where the copper men
Came with harlequin senses of long dead Gods.

yes! despair unfolds at the end marked by an era of disproportionate, uneasy peace that comes with the permanent sleep. harlequin, again demonstrates the fleeting nature and superficial character of reality.

this poem is a balm.

PS - kris, you missed the point of his review entirely.

I am humbled by these reviews.

I'll say this ...

You worked entirely too hard. It almost seems that you wrote it ... then used a Thesaurus. Because some lines are too confusing to follow.

The entire poem is like a giant run-on, which made reading it very difficult for me.

I would say edit ... But, I would probably make an entire new poem.

-Adrian

ahh my friend adriangarcia you missed the point, you captured the beauty and mistook it for rubbage. How many frost poems are like this, or any of the great poets, i ask? and then answer with a staggering none! A giant metaphor to great for a readthrough less than 10 times, i stand amazed. A line of glory that i must point out was

Whisky in the church, splashed on the
Pavement, fences barbed our way

It took me by surprise, and danced on my brain to the tune of perhaps my good pal Wagner. I read the before mentioned post by zalarus and interpret it as a prophecy, you my friend "will become a major voice of our generation. congrats. "
Keep on keeping on

This deserves recognition. You hold a style that has been lost in the fickleness of high school poetry. I love the way you disregard the bounds of normality. But aside from my general reaction to the poem, let me explain why I think this holds water.

The poem contains a cryptic message that doesn't give away its secrets easily. The cryptic language you use has seemed to act as a deterrent to those whom have little desire to digest language. Oh yes, this is cryptic, but not for "naught" as you seemed to use as a disclaimer for this piece. As an avid fan of beat, it seems you hit it spot on.

Its in hope, and intellect
Illumination
Light of the world
At the end of a cigarette
Lights of the world

Beautiful. This is the same way I feel about beat in general, "illuminating" through sordid truths.


Some elements that I didn't find as powerful happened early in this piece.

Or the singular glare of a
Jugular attachment

I don't like this, and it doesn't seem to fit the message (I think) you are trying to convey. Its wordy to the point that it seems to lose its cryptic feel. But legitimately, those two lines are the only ones I can suggest for further review.

This is a great piece of literature, please continue your radical nature.