Young Writers Society

I have to agree with everyone else, I am also a little lost. You should not worry about that to much. There are just a few minor errors too fix. However, I am not entirely sure this is a poem.

The formatting is a little off.

Something that would probably help your poem is trying to avoid caps.

In addition, you could be more descriptive towards the concept of the poem.

These are just a few things I noticed while reading your poem. I hope my review helped you at least a little. Remember to keep writing!

Yo cog!
I can't pretend that I even quarter-ways understand this story, but I've gotta save you from the wretched clutches of the green room.
So, what I gather from this poem is that the narrator is sick of society, with its iPhones and electronics and bad music. If I'm not mistaken you seem to be lamenting how men are expected to go out and work for the daily grind (like a cog) while wives and kis stay home and have fun. Also, you seem to touch on dual standards.
You use diction quite effectively, and, despite you saying that Cliches are all you do, this was rather uncliched, so props for that.
I'm not understanding why you're doing what you're doing with the all-caps. It kind of works though, I think.
I'd complain about your dividing of the word "cliches" into two, but I think that adds to the social commentary, like you're talking about cliches in poetry itself.
I really am struggling to critique this, because I'm not quite sure what's going on most of the time.
One tiny thing that bothers me is "they heat MY corrupted blood" and "trickles through MY veins." I suggest that you change the first my to "the."
I'd like to hear another reference to "the man," because that seems to be what the background theme is.
I like the return to the lamp post.
Bleh I can't think of anything else to say.
I hope this helped.
~fortissimo

Oh, wow, Cow, this is quite a... thing, isn't it?

To be honest, I don't know whether I like the actual poem itself or not, but I did chuckle at it several times. Maybe I wasn't supposed to? I don't know. The reason I don't know if I liked it is because I don't know how I was supposed to react to it. Is it satire? Is it supposed to be humorous? Serious? At times it felt like a bit of each.

Perhaps this is supposed to convey more of a feeling, of staring at a lamppost and feeling all the humor and sadness and nothingness that comes with the unique loneliness of sitting on a park bench at night.

Or maybe I'm looking too deeply into it.

Well, get used to it, because I'm not going to review this so much as try to stumble through the symbols and see if I got them right. (I hope you tell me if I'm picking up what you're putting down. As I said earlier, I have no idea.)

First image: The Lamposts, spelled with one p (on purpose?) that commune with the narrator in light. The Lamposts are connected with nothing, until we come to the very long, stream of consciousness line in the middle of the poem. A lamppost (two p's) would not be out of place in a park, and the narrator mentions sitting on a park bench, so perhaps it gives some semblance of setting. Also it may serve as a deity in this poem, an omniscient force that watches over all, that makes Narrator angry because Narrator is stuck on this park bench, staring at a phone, ignorant of the world. And the waves of light, like a microwave, cause the narrator's anger.

Narrator's blood is corrupted. By what? Technology? The SOC line (stream of consciousness, SOC from here out) mentions the phone again, and loneliness-- perhaps the two ideas in this poem are one, or this is the connection being drawn?

The next few lines are fairly self explanitory-- Narrator is upset that the MAN (tech?) is stealing his originality and his-- what is the opposite of loneliness-- togetherness? Love the pop culture references by the way. And the line to Che is priceless.

I'm a poet and a live wire