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542 Reviews



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Sat Apr 17, 2021 2:12 pm
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Liminality says...



Thank you so much once again for your lovely comments, @kattee! :') Really made me smile to read them. I'm so glad you got so much out of the poems thematically/ in terms of message~ I was really concerned at first that the style I was adopting might drown all that out, but your wonderful interpretations and analyses make me go AHH <3 Thank you!
she/her

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Sat Apr 17, 2021 2:24 pm
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Liminality says...



[are tanka meant to hang together with title screens?]

(maybe--)

your session has now
expired, it colour-codes
[please relaunch] -- as if
the cold white glare, swimming words
really mean to invite me

(while endless scrolling)

i must be crawling
on the seabed of this page,
my fingers cramping
something fierce and pearl and sharp
for my eyes never to stop

(i drink in)

an affirmation
acid armour on my brain:
i think of red crabs
as the coolant fluid groans
and night douses it blurry
she/her

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Sat Apr 17, 2021 2:37 pm
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rida says...



You know, you should seriously consider publishing a book if you haven’t already. I bet it’ll be a best seller
  





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Sun Apr 18, 2021 2:09 pm
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Liminality says...



Awh @rida :') That's very kind of you <3 Maybe I might, someday~
she/her

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Sun Apr 18, 2021 2:19 pm
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Liminality says...



[lightshow war]

a paper cutout moon rises, floats, and dips back into a mirror, down below, the night-time city, where each little neon sign is trying to stake a claim to their space --

(i wonder if each has a face?)

the puppet-strings dangling from the stars are still alive, jerking around and twisting in the glow of streetlights - the wind a sigh,

(because maybe we were all made to lie)

i can trace the lines of a family tree, like a plasma strip pointing to the nearest exit, as complications and truths are microchip smoke so we flee --

(and i see how every line connects to me.)
she/her

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Mon Apr 19, 2021 2:27 pm
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Liminality says...



[i wonder what happens to shy machines?]

A: events are so scary sometimes, you know?
like grainy images floating through space
towards you, and hovering in your face,
buzzing, humming in your ears – high and low.
frequency matters in making plans, so
long no practice, long sitting out the race,
i’m squeezing out another drop of grace
while outside thunderstorm winds hollow blow.

B: but don’t you think free time is just a dot?
on an empty sketch map you can draw on
in GIMP, the hours we have are not a lot
and neither the years, running dry the dawn
so click that button, be a better bot.
she/her

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Tue Apr 20, 2021 2:12 pm
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Liminality says...



[how do we live?]


>> 01
We live by talking
only, and still cannot seem
to understand speech,
like sunflower petals lost
beneath the tread of a wheel.

>> 02
I let myself fear
the cracks opening between
the words we share, as
orange light dissolves beneath
the blue blanket of twilight.

>> 03
I don't know how I
capture these moments in time
with this ailing mind,
with red fungus that spreads fast
to corrupt the old hard drive.
she/her

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Wed Apr 21, 2021 2:15 pm
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Liminality says...



[ownership]

how do you stake a claim to one in many electronic flames? i think it begins in the chest - this hollowed-out feeling like you're missing something and you need to burn away that slate grey wall. maybe it will caramelise, and look sweet for the camera. you realise you exist through being seen, through making a scene.

how do you stake a claim to a stained glass window pane? i think it begins between the tongue and the palate, a rush of childish want, like gazing through winter frost, gazing through blue light at a lolipop, coveted and never had.

but if you keep hoping to be seen, existing through the kindness of a screen

then someone else is hoping to be seen, clinging to the kindness of a screen

and screens are too thin to hold enough of dreams.

(they will fall through the cracks, and bleed syrupy.)
she/her

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Thu Apr 22, 2021 3:35 pm
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Liminality says...



[love (dis)interest]

Whereever technical terms are used, they
must be carefully red-light defined,
and their futures, one-by-one, be divined
by an algorithm at break of day.
Mutilate words like 'love' from words like 'play',
drag them screaming into boxes refined.
However soft intentions are designed,
we are wolves, and the pixel moon will bay.

But I wish you and I could calibrate
ourselves to a sunrise, jazz-inspired,
unburdened by the leaden heavy plate
of the world. Just us two ressuscitate
a future flowing gold never tired
and no other standard for us to sate.
she/her

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Fri Apr 23, 2021 2:22 pm
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Liminality says...



[that person who likes old-fashioned things takes long walks at the park]

Somewhere on a bridge | I must have forgotten words | that dropped lazily | into the lily-padded | pond of a blank response box.

This is a tanka | about the messages I | was supposed to send--
even through crawling rainfall | a threatened power outage.

Pulling down the branch | to hide my face in sunlight | I click off the page |
darkness, like a trapjaw snaps | shut in my phone, in my palm.
she/her

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Fri Apr 23, 2021 7:45 pm
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kattee says...



Hey lim! You’ve been smashing your Napo!! meanwhile... It’s so admirable to see you write one poem per day without the quality of each work compromised <3

My favs:
i wonder what happens to shy machines
Spoiler! :

I love this! It has this unsettling and stifling feeling that undoubtedly echoes what social anxiety feels like. Essentially, this is all about trying to push A out of its comfort zone, but I just genuinely love how its (A) thoughts is described so poetically/graphically

Grainy images” >> is a brilliant way to describe what anxious people see through their lens. These images are blurry, indistinguishable and are a pain in the eyes. It could imply that this robot finds events (particularly the people/fellow robots attending) very difficult to understand.

Frequency >> is this linked to people having different frequencies and wavelengths? That this robot is trying to wait till it finds robots that will instantly “click” with what he likes?

Dot?// on an empty sketch map you can draw on GIMP >>> ahhh this is a technological version of we’re just peanuts in space (albeit this one is pertaining to time)


love (dis)interest
Spoiler! :

You’re becoming the master of petrarchan sonnets ahh <3

I think this would be my favourite among the three. The first stanza has a very graphic and horrific imagery (i might be biased with those lol).
Mutilate words like ‘love’ from words like ‘play,’
Drag them screaming into boxes refined…
...We are wolves and the pixel moon will bay.

^^it depicts such a vigorous romantic entanglement that is founded on pretence. How everything about them is just tentative and uncertain because they try to shoehorn two contrasting concepts as if they were the same. The idea of wolves and moon hammers home the tentativeness because the moon’s reign won’t last forever and that the sun will eventually overthrow it from its place.

aND AHHH THIS IS where I knew you’ve thought of this so well because the next stanza is all about the sun. It has a vibrant and gentle ambience, in huge huge contrast to the first stanza.

Anddd am i overthinking things but calibrate, resuscitate, leaden heavy plate is a semi-reference to the “technical terms” in the first line of the poem?



ownership
Spoiler! :

This reminds me so much of Robert Frost’s Fire and Ice and the fact that this poem is written in that respective order...were you inspired by this as well? Or maybe it's just a coincidence given that in the actual poem, the flames and winter frost imagery aren’t technically used to juxtapose. They more off echo each other, not to mention that electronic flames is paralleled to the stained glass window pane (and not winter frost)

What I like most about this poem is the play of words. Besides putting it in two (somehow) different settings:
-claim + flames + pane all rhymed!
-Caramelise (1st stanza) + lollipop (2nd stanza) + syrupy (last line) = puts the poem into one common ground
-chest and tongue >> tangible things as the source of all these negative emotions >> which reminds me of how some negative experiences are often described as physical pain (e.g. rejection would often be described as a punch to the gut).


Special shoutout to lightshow war because i love how ethereal objects are deliberately linked with man-made ones!! AHHH once again you have really interesting poems!
If you want some sweet reviews to your poems, short stories, and essays, come by Katteelogue.

Have a lovely day❤️
  





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Sat Apr 24, 2021 10:09 am
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Liminality says...



Thank you so much for the comments @kattee :') <333
she/her

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Sat Apr 24, 2021 10:11 am
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Liminality says...



[several forum posts about people forgetting to breathe]

A: do you think it's freaky that i take in the universe through one end and then release it through the same end? nothing like digestion, i'm sure, it's like a passing second that doesn't seem to leave an effect at all (except it does)

B: (i don't expect you to read this and agree but) i do want you to -- know that i'm so immersed in being a good person these days, that i'm forgetting to be a good body, skipping breaths like skipping steps down a spiral staircase, heels clicking on the wooden planks

C: kaleidoscopes occupy my mind, swirling and dancing, a heart-hammering rhythm that jolts when i run out of oxygen in my rivers of blood

D: is there anything poetic or colourful about deoxygenated bodily fluids? i'm not sure (it just seems futile to me)

E: i wish i could be an empty building if it would make the breeze pass easier, pass me by in an unrealistically linear way that doesn't seem to change anything at all (except it does)
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Sun Apr 25, 2021 2:08 pm
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Liminality says...



[end simulation]

you're just a sad song / with nothing to say /
so you play me under / your rainy notes /
like a backing track / an anchor that floats /
we make a sad song / with nothing to say .
pull on the heartstrings / whatever that may
bring to forever / on small wooden boats /
and time is water / captive in these moats /
relying on luck / whatever that may .

then suddenly we / are lightningshockdeath
scrabbling you and i / are chasing our breath
a veil rips apart / [end simulation] .
come refrain hearing / the song is the same/
how dreadful we think / in white-greyish blame/
let's get out of here/ [end simulation] .


Spoiler! :
Credit: first line is from this -> https://weheartit.com/entry/137067233/i ... an2&page=4
I nearly forgot eep
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Mon Apr 26, 2021 1:59 am
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Euphory says...



LIMIIIIIII AHHHHHHH <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 Dropping a quick review here!!~
WARNING: said quick review is freakishly long XD
Spoiler! :
AHHHHHHHH SO I ALREADY TOLD YOU THIS but I've been SO EXCITED for your thread since NaPo started and can I just say that this HAS GOT MY JAW FALLING TO THE FLOOR and staying there actually BECAUSE WOW??? AAAAAAAAAA THIS THREADDDDDD

I LOVE the entire ~vibes~ of your poetry in general, how many details adorn your lines, the images, the colors and the emotions that they evoke, and at the same time, how all these blend together and sometimes even create a sort of disconnected feeling from the world? Like, after reading through this thread, when I look at the world around me I can actually start to see everything at once, and human behaviour has never felt more machine-like and complex, but at the same time, there's this sort of feeling unfazed by it all, like you never noticed it in the first place

AHH I don't know if that's how it is supposed to make me feel, but I think the fact that your poems can actually shift my worldview IS SO IMPRESSIVE LIKE XSKSKKKE AA <33333

Apart from emotions and unemotion, YOUR WRITING STYLE IS SOMETHING I NEED TO ACKNOWLEDGE because I swear I'm so intrigued by how you manage to weave such fabulous snippets of the world and your thoughts through word choice and wordplay and the way you manipulate the formatting of your poem or add in unconventional symbols or use a lot of cyber jargon to really, really bring through the message while at the same time, arranging it in such a lovely package of a poemmmm AAAAAAA LIMI YOU'RE A GENIUS AOXKDKDKD

My smol brain probably misinterpreted a lot but I hope you can forgive that ;_; putting aside interpretations and attempts to piece together these poems, I can tell you for sure that I had an absolute blast reading through these and I have so much respect for you because your poems are super duper fantastic <3<3<3<3<3


[You make storyboards from] remnants of static
Spoiler! :
AAAAAA THESE LINES
A sloping crimson graph line that leans
towards the dramatic, nodes exploding,
rope-strings of hot powerlines lassoing
hyperlinks between -- whatever you've seen.

The images that lit up in my bran after reading this GOSH MY MIND WAS LITERALLY PULSATING WITH EXCITEMENT READING THIS KXOSK

I also got a lot of ~sounds~ from this poem, although I'm not sure if that was supposed to happen- static noise, sound of explosions, drones, bees, (both of them have a pretty similar sound too, omg)

My interpretation for this is like, passion? The first stanza makes me think of someone who's super passionate about something as they talk about it, they've got all this excitement and explosions going on? But then the second stanza's speaker isn't quite as enthusiastic and describes it as a mess to go through, ultimately concluding white noise forms from memory, which I have no idea what that means, but it makes me think of how white noise is used for sleep, and maybe it's like how some things tend to be sound very fun and thrilling for some people and for others it's just, well, boring? AAA THIS IS SO SMOL BRAIN XD


[manufactured authenticity in online angst]
Spoiler! :
I FOUND THIS POEM SUPER INTERESTING I cannot manage to bring around an overall message of them poem, because there are so many interconnected thoughts and feelings here along with the themes of mental illnesses and art, and it almost felt like a stream of unconsciousness? Like, it started a little animatedly, as if the speaker had already rehearsed what to say, but then as the lines went on, it started to get more rambly and then again, the flow of speech is more controlled and slower, atleast that's how I imagine it

I feel there's a lot about the romanticisation of illnesses, especially these lines
maybe it will glob together the melting ice fragments around the melancholy planet and hold them together long enough, so i can use that as a metaphor for my deteriorating bones. it makes it more romantic, see, because there's only one saturn, but so many people who could replace me.

It also reminds me of how people sometimes credit somebody's talent in art or any form of creativity through their illness- like how people say Van Gogh couldn't have created such masterpieces if it weren't for his mental illness, which is just ridiculous, because it was his skill in art that you should celebrating, not his illness? KjxkaMDKS I don't want to go on a rant XDDDD

And then these lines reminded me of the topic of how people sort of pretend to have mental illnesses for the sake of attention, which is a whole different can of worms-
what i wanted to say was i was never happy, not even when i was eating that hot melted grilled cheese last night, which i must retcon to being rotten, tasting sour like the sting of isolation. i've always been an introvert, and i cheered when the automatic doors flew shut on me last night, but there's a devil bone pounding in my chest now right now-- and it flies back in time and changes past!me's mind - i'm suddenly not okay anymore, are you paying attention?


[c*nsorship tanka]
Spoiler! :
AHHHH GENIUS a censored poem about censorship AAAAA
Those first stanzas really hit through AA it reminds me of how sometimes you can be so afraid of conflict that you'd simply mask your anger and frustration and just go along with someone to maintain the peace, which AAAAA if I don't get that T_T

And it's interesting that the last stanza had no censorship whatsoever which makes me think it's more of a thought rather than a narration of an event like in the other stanzas (which is a reasonable interpretation seeing there are brackets around it), underthought and waves turning to dust makes me think of, like, how suppressing these negative, but true emotions eventually robs you of your rights or makes you feel lesser and lesser human and more like a walking machine

ALSO THE IMAGERY IN THESE LINESSSSS
growing a vine-t*ngue,
so pixel flowers cluster
and belong to each *ther.


gl*tch graphics that shuttered close
and grew a shell of bright blue.


[lightshow war]
Spoiler! :
AHHHHHHH THE FIRST LINE OF THIS ALREADY HAD ME ON MY KNEES
a paper cutout moon rises, floats, and dips back into a mirror, down below, the night-time city, where each little neon sign is trying to stake a claim to their space --


This entire poem was a delight to read, I want to quote the entire thing because I absolutely love way you described the night and just the whole atmosphere in general in this poem <3333

I also loved the sort of message I got from this?? It reminds me a lot of how materialistic our world is and, at the same time, how messy it is in it's natural form, like the imagery of "paper cutout moon" neon signs and faces (it's like you're looking out at all these shops and buildings outside and you wonder about the lives of these people you've never met) puppet strings and stars (makes me think of fate and how people believe their destinies are written in stars and stuff like that :O) family trees and plasma strips

And that final line took me right back to SEL- "we're all connected" AHHH the arrival of that line gave me chills lckskdk


[several forum posts about people forgetting to breathe]
Spoiler! :
So this one instantly caught me in, more due to personal reasons though- my entire country is facing this huge situation where COVID patients aren't getting oxygen, hospitals aren't getting oxygen, and it's just a mess alxklskssm

But this poem gave birth to a whole PLETHORA of thoughts inside me, al these posts feel like metaphors for mental illnesses or not even that, just generally the sort of negative thoughts emotionally unstable people may get?

Person A's post makes it feel like they're consciously aware of their every thought and breath, and Person B's post is like they're too busy and caught up in life to take time for the small things, to take time to breathe, skipping breaths like skipping steps was just a genius comparison akxkssm. Person C feels more like someone who's suffocated by the world, like, they feel so much emotion and can't handle all the chaos that swirls inside with every breath they take, Person D feels like someone who seems unbothered by it all because it's a waste of their energy, and Person E's wishing they could be that unbothered and empty so that they're numb to fears or feelings


favourite bits of imagery from some of your poems
Spoiler! :
Powerlines, over city
s t r e t c h -- pulsating red, aching.
.
.
Orange-light hallway,
this dead voice meandering,
thick wires of calls
the day, lived in reverse-step.
Dancing the conveyor belt.


Silk that becomes tendrils burrowing through my arms, marionette-makers know how machines work and exploit it. Flower gears turning, grinding away at memory bone


I'm sorry I burnt
you out of your skeleton
with blue grave-fires,
a fork-tongued flame licks its lips
kissing a crash screen to black.


pixel rainfall explodes red
and drowns the screen in thunder.
.
.
player three:

watching breakdowns from
the outside-- satisfaction
like a full health bar,
backgrounded by glitching sprites
splicing itself and twitching.


capital letters are like v-shaped (.) sloping horns (.) a shield or battering ram gainst some kind of impression tsunami (.) you hear me [sic]


THE ENTIRETY OF THE PLAYLISTS POEM

I’m marking polygon trees in bright sap,
so that if I misinterpret your call
maybe I’ll seek the way by gritty crawl,
and show up like a bear at your tent-flap—


in the wreckage of floating castle ruins. on the second page of search results we spurn.


it's steaming with the solar flare of care,
malfunctioned from wires broken and chewed.

I want you and me in an escape pod,
shooting out from this chain-reaction hell,
leaving behind the drunken throes and crowd.
I want you and me at a flash-freeze nod
to vanish with the pealing of a bell -


THE ENTIRETY OF [are tanka meant to hang together with title screens?] LXLSLSLSLSL

but don’t you think free time is just a dot?
on an empty sketch map you can draw on
in GIMP, the hours we have are not a lot
and neither the years, running dry the dawn
so click that button, be a better bot


like sunflower petals lost
beneath the tread of a wheel.

>> 02
I let myself fear
the cracks opening between
the words we share, as
orange light dissolves beneath
the blue blanket of twilight


rush of childish want, like gazing through winter frost, gazing through blue light at a lolipop, coveted and never had.


But I wish you and I could calibrate
ourselves to a sunrise, jazz-inspired,
unburdened by the leaden heavy plate
of the world. Just us two ressuscitate
a future flowing gold never tired
and no other standard for us to sate.


THE ENTIRETY OF END SIMULATION NZKSKKS


Spoiler! :
So....I apologize for that gigantic review T_T XDDDD THERE WERE SO MANY poems I wanted to comment on but this would turn into an actual 5 page essay if I did so AAAA XDD regardless of its length, I really hope you enjoyed reading it atleast, your NaPo thread is probaly one of my top five favourites this year BECAUSE AAAAAAAA the originality, the style, the messages, Kxkekskszks just undescribably exquisite, and I'm in love <3<3<3

You're doing spectacular, Limi, I really cannot comprehend how you manage to create all these masterpieces AAAAA [insert heart eyes]
I really could see all the heart you put into your poems as well, I'm sure they must have taken an insane amount of thought and effort and I'm really awed by the splendour of so many of these poems, I truly hope you're proud of yourself <33333333

I wish you lots and lots of luck for your next poem or venture, you're doing so fabulous, and I'm always cheering for you!! ^^ <333 thank you for sharing, and keep growing <3
Viola Tricolor also known as wild pansy, Johnny Jump up, heartsease, heart's ease, heart's delight, tickle-my-fancy, Jack-jump-up-and-kiss-me, come-and-cuddle-me, three faces in a hood, love-in-idleness, and pink of my john-
  








He who knows only his own generation remains forever a child.
— Cicero