Listen

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Mommy told you to stay away.

You didn't listen.

You ran out the door, ignoring her warnings.

You were sixteen,

I was ageless.

I warmed your heart with lies of happiness and power,

luring you into my thorny hands.

I told you

"just one more time",

while your mother told you

"never again".

You chose me over her.

Every time you came to me, I filled your head with images of

perfection,

beauty,

and love.

Every time you saw her, I filled your head with images of

hatred,


disgust,

and imperfection.

My twisted lies brought you joy and peace.

Her time-tested truth brought you sorrow and despair.

I laughed.

You cried.

My false-truths seemed to please you in some perverted way,

giving you a sense of

relaxation,

joy,

and self-love.

I made you happy.

Or so you thought.

That day, you had had enough.


You came to me one last time.

Indulged in my filth one last time.

You were happy one last time.

As I pulsed through your veins, you grinned, exposing your crooked teeth.

I did the same.

I raced through your body, searching my way to your soul.

I soon found it.

I wrapped my slithering tongue around it and pulled tight.

You couldn't escape.

With your last breath, you laughed.

As you lay there lifeless,

I spit on your soulless body,

and fled to my next victim.
"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." ~ Anton Chekhov




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I really like this. I love how it gives enough information for it to be understandable and easy to follow, but at the same time doesn't reveal too much. It is hard for people to find that balance, and I feel you have achieved that quite well. I really loved the imagery, and I think the piece as a whole flowed fairly well.

As I pulsed through your veins, you grinned, exposing your crooked teeth.

I did the same.

I raced through your body, searching my way to your soul.

I soon found it.

I wrapped my slithering tongue around it and pulled tight.

You couldn't escape.

With your last breath, you laughed.

As you lay there lifeless,

I spit on your soulless body,

and fled to my next victim.


My favorite part :)

This is very good.
"If you ever have a problem don't say 'Hey God I have a big problem.' Rather 'Hey Problem... I have a big God and it's all going to be okay."




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This is seriously one of the best things I have ever read on this site. This is CRAZY good. Your tone is perfect, your words are perfect, everything is perfect. The variation of line length adds such a dramatic effect. I wouldn't change anything. I love the "You grinned, exposing your crooked teeth" line. It just works! All of it does. Haha, goood job.
An unknown person once said, "I really have nothing to put for my signature."

Oh right! That person was me!




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The morbidity of this definitely makes it my kind of poem ;D.

I respect this. I respect what you're trying to prove and I respect the fact that you went for it. The flow was interesting as well as the rhythm. Even the structure was pretty nice, though I should note that putting spaces between lines takes away from this as a whole.

In any case, there is quite a bit I enjoyed about this.

Of course, there is always things we could change about ourselves and our writing. So now I'm going to go into certain things that could have been better.

First and foremost, the snake imagery. Now, I can see that the gears were turning all the way through the poem, but the only real substance when it comes to the snake imagery enters in near the ending of the poem rather than lacing the entire way through so we get some kind of a parallel drawn. When you add it in like you did, you end up creating a more random, quick thought rather than a well planned out piece of poetry. So try connecting a little better with that imagery.

Next, your diction is a little prosey.

Mommy told you to stay away.

You didn't listen.

You ran out the door, ignoring her warnings.

You were sixteen,

I was ageless.


The highlight of this was the last line. The only line, really, that appeared to give this any poetic substance rather than a summarized short story. That's the big thing with poetry, I find. That people forget that they should be drawing parallel's and creating beautiful metaphors so that not only do we explain something or have a reason for what we do but also make something truly amazing as well. Poetry is art.

So, when I read overly prosey work, I find that it can be a bit of a downfall for the entirety of it only because I don't really see the 'poetry' aspect of it all. Yes, its heartfelt. Yes, it has reason. Yes, its in lines and stanza's. Other than that, is it really different than prose as a whole?

Poetry takes time. Work on your diction and I could see a brilliant start for you ;D.

~Walker
Suppose for a moment that the heart has two heads, that the heart has been chained and dunked in a glass booth filled with river water. The heart is monologuing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red brocade the heart is drowning. - R.S




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Thank you so much! I do realize that this did come across as a bit of a short story almost... I really need to work on taking my time when writing poetry or even anything! Your comments are the type that I love the most because they help me know what I need to work on. Once again, thank you! :)
"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." ~ Anton Chekhov




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Hey Michael!
Again, your poetry continues to astound me. I like how this poem teeters on the edge of confusion and really makes you stop and think. Good job! Also, the ending ("and I fled to my next victim") is perfect. It strikes unease in the reader, who automatically expects a happy ending that ties up all the loose ends. There are a lot of individual stanzas within this poem that I just LOVE as well. For example:

You came to me one last time.

Indulged in my filth one last time.

You were happy one last time.

As I pulsed through your veins, you grinned, exposing your crooked teeth. Genius. :)


Here are some nit-picks:
I spit (this is past tense, so it should be "spat") on your soulless body,

and fled to my next victim.


That's all I could find for grammar. Again, FANTASTIC work, and never stop writing! :)




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First off... I like it :)
I'm not really into poetry but I think you just changed my mind.
For this piece anyway.
You don't give too much away, which at the start made me a little confused but I figured it out.
I love the ending, from the point of:
"As I pulsed through your veins, you grinned, exposing your crooked teeth."

Especially:
"I raced through your body, searching my way to your soul.
I soon found it.
I wrapped my slithering tongue around it and pulled tight.
You couldn't escape."

It really captured my attention and wrapped up and what I though it was about.
Drugs, right? And at the end it is an overdose?
Morbid, my style :)
Its almost like a story, not a poem.
Maybe thats why I like it so much.
Really captured my attention, the title too.
My one point of criticism is this line:
"I spit on your soulless body,"

It should be "spat" not "spit" because its past tense.
But otherwise, you have definitely changed my opinion about poetry.
Keep up the fantastic work :)

-- Ever.
"Waiting for the day all my pain goes away and the memory of your love fades to black."




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thank you so much!
"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." ~ Anton Chekhov




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Every time you saw her, I filled your head with images of

hatred,

disgust,

and imperfection.


I understand the fragmentary format that seems to be happening in this poem; I like the use of blank space on this page, the stuttering breaths, et cetera. What I'm thinking I'd like better to see from this, to give it more of a deep inhalation, almost as though with the same hatred, disgust, and anger that the character is being shown, maybe:

Every time you saw her, I filled your head with images;

hatred;

disgust;

imperfection.


I like the dramatics of this:
You came to me one last time.

Indulged in my filth one last time.

You were happy one last time.


Try, maybe:
You came to me one last time.

Indulged in my filth

one last time.

You were happy

one last time.


As poetry is meant to be "read-aloud" -- or so I'm told -- I quite like the idea of the pauses this way could give it. Try reading it aloud; it makes it sound more dramatic. Gives the "last time" an extremely significant place in this, as that's just what it is: extremely significant.

OVERALL:
Interesting. Somewhat over-done topic, but still dramatic none-the-less. The ending was definitely quite nice.

You might want to create paragraphs -- stanzas, whatever they're called ... I'm not a poet. It all seems like the empty space is just trying quite hard for the attention, and becoming over-done. If you wrapped some likes together, the empty spaces would create more drama to the reader.

It could be worked on, but everyone seems to be providing such excellent assistance and advice; I would definitely advise following up with their edits and seeing where the poem leaves you.

CAN'T HELP MYSELF BUT COUNT THE FLAWS /
CLAW MY WAY OUT THROUGH THESE WALLS /
ONE TEMPORARY ESCAPE /
FEEL IT START TO PERMEATE .

--The Naked and Famous; Young Blood



The world is your oyster. Well, it’s my oyster, but you can have some of it.
— Feltrix