Young Writers Society

Home » Literary works » Poetry » Politics


Perpetuating historys doomed reptition

by LanguidLiger


Hunger in the eyes of predatory chemists, the willing demise of lost souls there premise, to money not fame, off the empty eyed art students flame under catharses unretreating mist.

Prey slouch through the streets, dusk till dawn.

The shrieking threat from the preachers father, all mix to a solution, precipitate a non-existant nugget in a walleyes fish memory,

its effervescence a decadent miasma of a million's worth of waste, flowing neath our feet for 365 days straight, and a 365 days rate of not enough mopes in the pockets of the 99% the one cruel miser stands at the top,

working in a victems complex of money already got, off confedorate mainstay livestock.

The "leaches" slosh through a shameful sea of our gaudy grandiosity,

huddling in alleyways with three walls of grout, dark brick, vomit, trash cans , hookers subsisting, junkies losing consciousness, three pillars non-existent

and the third shadowed by an open barrier, peering in in disgust at mistakes we created, don't ask why food is rejected, check the diagonal, food water love shelter work, all commodities they cant flourish on a platter with a scathing post-it reply to your callousness, much less turn into a product to be proud of, a waiter to your ego, in a restaurant where food is prepared, half-eatan, and tossed, the miasma reaches in and makes sure nothing is pulled away, from the consumers bright eyed, jaded, shallow search for objects to appraise, in a daze of life, nods fast at chatter-heads, concedes and trusts in popular populist un-opinioned concistency, that plagues your TV, that reaches ears in family rooms containing parents, children gone, homework a sidenote, dead, no nagging, bickering, sign of life for a harried but steady life supplier, critiscism in an underfunded underslung, underhanded attack to the flank of an "odd"-generation, so condemned, will persecute, antagonize, take lies for truths in the eyes of a progenitors lost place in society, shaking fists and heads at synthesized causal "truths", leaking metal rage proofs, there undeserving handhold reduced to the acerbic rants of what will be bigger than them, outlive their influence, then slows for a few isolated tradgedys, finds bonds for figureheads, exposed and enabled in a spotlight of love, unquestionable respect, supplies lies to fit the justified nationalists view, wades through the deep waters that never abated, commiserating on the tragedy of miscommunication which arrose from the aloof nature of a mistake made twice in unity, in a thinly crowded ballot dominated by one or another cults of a false dichotomy, one let their guard down,watching leaches doused in salt die slow, unwilling to dish out the dough to form better lives for all, building pleasure into a compact critical mass container, by indulgant baricuda's providing services to a powerdrive of authority, and smug pithy speeches of respect, they get none from thier institution, the good old boys who just couldnt get anymore than a slap on the wrist, the vacant, left the room prescence of fearless dominance masked by savior's instinct, theyll deliver you to a timeout holding you from respite, use the big toys of justice, the big guns of bravery, funds flow from the fear of a dawn bright and transperent, the miasma a favourite for ludites, spending futures on pasts, a concrete jungle less forgiving, taking, stealing, raping what little inoccence we drag out of the womb, and patting our backs for turning heavy handed cinicals, into hard minded criminals, and harmless hedonists to hopeless pleadances, the twenty first century, taking two steps forward one step back, and whacking you for being an individual, the insinuated diction that we reign graceful guidance over the methods of our brothers, but crucify light shedders, the eighteenth century still mocks and bites and spits, and threatens to break out of a cage made of old and new bits of resentment, fear, weaponized and alone in thier struggle against harmless living, feeling, breathing,

In a way that would shake the fluffy clouds to show an angry old fool.

Everyones a victim

Spreading manure across sparse landscapes, sprinkled in crushed rock, no lesser of four evils, occupying forces taking turns spreading the-illogical terror, creating accomplices, stoning, moaning at the west, taking part in jovial purges, self righteous archetypal scripture upholders, illiteracy a necessity, bursting through splintered wooden doors, spraying bullets,painful disdainful preaching in blood and mud, over the reputability of moderates, stoking the fires of hate, cruelty stampeding over theyre brood dedicated for arms, adhobie sand dwellings steeped in textiles cooling windows made singeing wounds, a widening of boundaries blood letting through heavy indifferent bombardment, explosives, blood money from a rabid watchdog, enemy of my enemy is my friend, UNLESS THAT ENEMY IS ESSENTIALY MORALLY BEREPT, thirsty for oil, frothing at the mouth with the spent fumes, looking for capital gain made with a capital W for weapons waste in L capital for life, a choice so valued for sub-human embrionics, but shirked in the face of mothers fathers sons daughters, faces shielded, heads dressed, brown skin, asked for it with their "weapons of mass destruction", attracted not deployed, and the miasma rejoices and reaches into the pockets of mom and pop, and creates injurys, weapons deals, ruined lives, a self sustaining, death attaining, unholy global mogul, under the name of two gods, free market capitalism, free hate with a empty yearning to sate, and Jesus, a despondent ruler, with a plan to return on, more war with devils advocate at play, lets waste lives on unjustifiable conflict, the desert storms strip the conscious bear and leave dead to mourn, pride in troops a belief youve all sworn, at home militant sociopaths stock high-school hallways, a hatred of life and altruism, tear up the innocent few, mil-complex playing its hand in domestic territory, hand and hand with gang violence, drive-by, careless mistakes, they rant and rave on the net, the death of privacy keeping extroverted crime, glory for terrorism, alive and free, pay rent-a-cops, detect metal, feel safe in your zero-tolerance crushing of expression, violence a welcome canvas for disgruntled victims, antagonists, phisiological profileing, stocking halls with hate in thier hands, substituting with the stock of a carbine, religion claims victimization in schools, freedom of speech gets in the totalitarians incredulous face.

lets create hostility, LETS CREATE HATRED OF STUPIDITY, get a heavy paper weight dinosaur to roar about media, movies, video games, music, culture, OUR ONLY ESCAPE!

Remove it, remove violence, remove love, remove reasurance, release pent up hatred, contempt!!! Mysanthropy!!! NO ONES A VICTIM!!!!!!

Fear stays suppressed. Never surpassed.

And still, the twenty first century takes two steps forward and one step back, trampling iconoclasts, breathing life into martyrs, breathing vapour into druggys, killing raping feeding on hard-tack jobs with half-life returns, and moans at the prospect of giving jobs, jobs they wouldn't take, to willing immigrants, with the bottom dollar in the hands of a US citizen, leaping from flatbeds, just looking for a bit of that dream, nightmare, waking, an attempt in solidarity, consolidating hard work gets you nowhere tapestry, and ideals GOT you nowhere reality.

CALL BACK TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY


Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.







Is this a review?


  

Comments



User avatar
208 Reviews


Points: 830
Reviews: 208

Donate
Tue Jul 15, 2014 2:20 pm
rhiasofia wrote a review...



Hello, rhia here to review!

Ok, first off, everyone else is saying "oh, this isn't poetry because it isn't structured like poetry", but you know what? They can suck it. Prose poetry is poetry, if they don't get that, that's their fault. However, some of your paragraphs are a bit lengthy. If you're going to do prose poetry, I would suggest trying to have smaller paragraphs.

off the empty eyed art students flame under catharsis's unretreating mist.

*Did you mean "of" instead of "off"? I couldn't quite tell which you meant, so I'll just leave this here and hope it helps.
*The plural of catharsis is catharses, but I love that you used this word. You have a great vocabulary.

working in a victems complex of money already got, off confedorate mainstay livestock.

*spelled "victims"

The "leaches" slosh through a shameful sea of our gaudy gratis,

I'm a bit confused by this bit, as gratis is not a noun, but an adjective or adverb.

huddling in alleyways with three walls of grout, dark brick, vomit, trash cans , hookers subsisting, junkies losing consciousness, three pillars non-existsnt,

*Non-existent. Just a bitty typo.

I really liked these first seven stanza-ish bits, but I'm not sure about from there onwards.

all commoditys they cant flourish on a platter with a scathing post-it reply to your callousness,

*Plural of commodity is commodities
*can't
I love this line. It really reminded me of how unique and distinct your control of language is. The way you word things is amazing and so interesting.

Also, your internal rhymes and assonance in this poem are absolutely unf, just gotta let you know. I literally sighed aloud at some of them. I think I'm a bit of a literary fangirl, just possibly.

there undeserving handhold reduced to the acerbic rants of what will be bigger than them,

*their

commiserating on the tragedy of miscommunication which arrose from the aloof nature of a mistake made twice in unity

*arose

Okay so I'm liking this first long paragraph more than I expected to. It's chaotic, but in a good way. Even though it's just comma after comma, you put so many sort-of rhymes into this and repeated so many sounds so perfectly that it flows wonderfully. And your language is just so enjoyable.

by indulgant baricuda's providing services to a powerdrive of authority,

*baricudas

the good old boys who just couldnt get anymore than a slap on the wrist,

*couldn't

EVERYONES A VICTIM!!!!

Alright, I'm going to kind of pick on you here. I advise that you try to never repeat punctuation over and over after a single sentence. It looks tacky. It looks like one of those silly emails we send our friends. The all-caps isn't as bad, but I would minimize the amount which you use that. There are better ways to draw attention to a single line such as that. Just because it stands alone, it already seems to the reader to hold an important place.You could also align it differently, maybe center-align while the rest stays left-aligned.

the-illogical terror,

Just not sure why the and illogical are hyphenated.


adhobie sand dwellings steeped in textiles cooling windows made singeing wounds,

do you mean "adobe"?

phisiological profileing,

*physiological profiling

Wow, the second long paragraph on was so freaking powerful. I mean, I really felt it. I felt angry. I'm shaking. I can't really wrap my head around what this did to me. You definitely had technical issues, and I don't care for the all caps and repeated exclamation points, but everything else is perfect. I changed my mind about thinking that you should shorten the paragraphs. Don't. They work perfectly. They aare ranty, but it's appropriate.

Great job. This one is my favorite of yours thus far.




LanguidLiger says...


Thank you for being good with grammer! I will put your suggestions to good use. And yes I am a bit ranty in daily life as well XD Although I can see where your coming from with the all-caps and exclamation points, they did seem a bit overzealous, they were meant to convey MY thoughts in the abscence of italics. So yeah. Great review. Thank you for your trouble.



rhiasofia says...


Oh, well to do italics, just ""
and then write what you want
and then "
" at the end



LanguidLiger says...


Thanks!



rhiasofia says...


That didn't really work, it changed it to Italics. That's suppsed to show brackets w/ a lowercase i, then you write, then do brackets again with a /i inside



LanguidLiger says...


The-illogical was sort of a stupid play on theological ideas, which I personally find to be illogical, and make fun of a bit. Hope your not offended.



rhiasofia says...


Oh, that makes sense! That's clever, really. Glad you explained it.



User avatar
53 Reviews


Points: 419
Reviews: 53

Donate
Tue Jul 15, 2014 8:15 am
lyricalrebel wrote a review...



Hey there, I'll be writing to you a review and I think that this will be short.

So...when I opened your work, I expected to have stanzas since the description clearly says poetry (I double-checked when I saw the style of your work). So, I would suggest that you cut them into lines, and if you would like, into stanzas. I'm not sure but I assumed that you had not used an HTML tag to break each line. Example there are "<br/>" and "<p>" (without the qoutation marks). So that's it so far and I like the significance of your poem.




LanguidLiger says...


I don't mean to be rude, but I did specify in the description that it would be rambling. I do often favor prose style in my work. Thanks for your minds eye though.



User avatar
146 Reviews


Points: 17572
Reviews: 146

Donate
Tue Jul 15, 2014 4:52 am
MooCowPoop wrote a review...



Hello LanguidLiger!

First thing's first: reformat it so reads like a poem instead of a story. That would be so much more pleasing to our eyes. You can do this by editing your piece in the Publishing Center which you can access by looking and clicking on said button atop the page! ^_^

I've pulled out parts in the poem which I believe need some reviewing.

...working in a victems complex of money already got...


A spelling error. Spell check the title also. It would also be nice if you could recheck the entire piece for spelling errors.

... supplies lies to fit the justified nationalists view...


You used the incorrect version of "supply". Should be "Supply's"

...and ideals GOT you nowhere ____ reality...

Is there a missing preposition here (at the blank I have inserted)?

Content:
In all importance, the major issue I have with this poem is the style in which it is written. Whenever someone writes about history (what history by the way? More on that later), I think they have a really awesome opportunity to shape things in ways that are just... plain cool because it's something we've all been affected by and can look at plain on the street. I'm a world history nerd. Sorry for that nerdy moment.

You have a knack at using words. You have an eloquent writing style that is apparent in your skill to use rhyming as a way of connecting large ideas about our history. In the entire poem, however, I was little confused about which events you were referring to in history-- or if you were doing that at all. Sometimes I felt that you were vaguely touching upon certain events (weapons of mass destruction = atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki? ), but I was little lost with some parts (cover brown skin = ??). I would change this. The title states If the title implies what I think it is implying, then the "doomed" parts of history should not only be the main focus of this piece (you've aced that part) but specific moments of history's failures should also be focus on in this by it touches the reader's heart in a more familiar way because presumably, they too know of the events which have happened in history and how they have failed. Doing so would also make this poem sound less like a rant and more like a sophisticated argument because of its pointed focus. It may also help to carve out a specific voice to narrate this poem, like a prominent figure from the past. That is just an idea. I think you wrote this as a timeline too, right? I may be wrong about that, and sorry if I am. If it is written like a timeline, then the aforementioned ideas would really work well.

I like this poem because it reads like one sentence, and, in my head, flows like a spoken-word poem. Do you do spoken-word? And as I have previously mentioned, you are good with words and rhythm. That is so cool.

Though I have given you all this advice, feel free to disagree and not do anything I say because it is your writing and what you want to do with it. I'm just here to give suggestions!

Adios!




LanguidLiger says...


Well thank you. This was a rather useful review. I can always use someone who will spellcheck my work! Thanks




Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.
— Thomas Edison