Sage Francis Emulation(critique as poem, or lyric)

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Gender Male
Points 4038
Reviews 25
I alone await patient dawn
watching lightmold creep on my corpse of a lawn
war of roses,
feudal flowers fruitless.
Futile was my prowress to harvest your love,
useless.
Dovestungdead, that's the sacrifice,
a martyr to your lungs, the metronome of midnight.
-
Morning tolls, buses roll
luminous lamps for the 9to5 droll
the sky grows heavy
with rain
the thunderous applause of God's pain
like Jerusalem, awaiting their beacon's grave.
-
Here's where the ligh touches earth,
the honest heart wreathed,
ornamenting a doorway of grief and hurt
and the flashflood creak of a keyhole's stream,
momentary divinity as the third eye bleeds.
-
Do you feel this?
Houston, we have a problem,
you angel-wings grew dull mid blossom
drunk on gravity, a heavy toxin
Venus fly-trap a Sirius coffin;
"So much dead space between me and stardom."
-
So many steps laced with ruts forgotten.
So many ancestral blooms stem rotten fruits
my pallet leads this canvas to a place of balance, my loom
weaves a sonic womb for these ancient tunes
spillin like smoke out my hotel room;
-
an anvil bedrest
I beat my head on
Haesphestus - crippled asphestos saint,
sing songs of the pallisades, mantra lullaby
rebirth this truth through charades.
-
The nouminous made luminous staves
to pave deliverence's way;
while numerals are chained to shave entropy,
shadow shallow graves with a mask of harmony,
I count your breaths like days, stalking me.
-
It's been a lifetime!
wrapped in these sheets
suffering the heat
of these fevered dreams
gifted to me
by your graciousness.
Hyperventilation's cyst
leaves me dead
vein chutes shot with chalk
marking marble blocks and a tree of led
cardinal sign defined and arrested
cardiac cut, vital signs bested
cancerous lust spreads untested;
beheaded then mended to fend the x-tender rays
of light you'd severed, every staire waves it's way
to an attic's glare, lonely and bare
I contemplate the grace of your fair
skin, the origin
of beat love and madness, the heart of sin
and all things flaring,
spark plugged,
beginning to end.
_
But then...
what's left?
there's you
and your silhouette
mocking daybreak's
revelation of bloody bed blues.
You know how dumb the average guy is, right? Well, mathematically, by definition, half of them are even dumber than that.
JR ‘Bob’ Dobbs

TW's Red Cross Blue Shield. A CRITIQUE FOR EVERY YWSIAN!




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Gender Female
Points 62375
Reviews 315
As a poem, I definitely enjoyed it - it seemed quite spaced out for a poem, but that's alright. You use some amazing imagery - 'silhouette mocking daybreaks,' 'watching lightmold creep on my corpse of a lawn,' 'metronome of midnight,' 'drunk on gravity, a heavy toxin,' (remove the toxin part, and it'll be lovely!), 'my pallet leads this canvas to a place of balance, my loom / weaves a sonic womb for these ancient tunes,' 'pave deliverence's way,' etc. etc.

Just a note, though - I disliked the penultimate stanza, for its lack of interesting and new imagery, and for the terrible medical spin it puts on what has gone before: 'vein chutes...cardiac...cancerous...x-rays...spark...' - just a little too scientific for my liking.

Plus, think about what is most important in this poem. It reads very lengthily, vertically down (or maybe that's a spacing) - but realise, again, that I am critiquing this as a poem - so as lyrics, it may work!




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Gender None specified
Points 72525
Reviews 1220
You have a lot of unique imagery going on here, but I couldn't really appreciate it because I was distracted by the irregular rhythm and typos. For example:

Futile was my prowess to harvest your love

This is just the first of many misspellings.

As far as the irregular rhythm goes, I think it's due to a combination of inconsistent punctuation and line lengths. Generally, the lengths of lines match up or follow a visible pattern; there is no visible pattern there, and it changes in every stanza. The syllable count also changes, and this results in a bunch of forced-sounding rhymes. The spacing was also huge, so that added another element of not-nice-to-read-ness.

Overall, you have some great imagery, but it's lost among the misspellings and the formatting issues. I suggest going back through and fixing the misspellings, spacing, and punctuation, and seeing if you can tweak the lines so that their syllable counts are more regular, or at least follow a clear pattern.
Secretly a Kyllorac, sometimes a Murtle.
There are no chickens in Hyrule.
Princessence: A LMS Project
WRFF | KotGR



i don't need to search the stars to know myself
— soundofmind