Shattered flutes and wasted whiskey

Hey again:)
Wow, another awesome poem, and another awesome title!
Once again, I am loving your descriptions. They create very vivid images, and that's always helpful.

Majestic ceilings and marble floors
none can hear the echo
of the suffering;
none can hear the echo
of the choking.

- Straight from the first stanza I know what the poem is about. I like the repetition - it's simple, but very moving. You always have such deep messages in your poems, it's amazing Either way, keep the repeating line, but maybe separate the floors and ceilings into two lines, so that the first one doesn't sound too long compared to the rest of the stanza.

lost Ones

- why the capital letter at Ones? If you want to personify or add some meaning to that, maybe say Lost Ones, that will sound like a title for those helpless souls.

oozing through the bear-skin carpets.

- so far, this is the scariest stanza, but the "oozing" doesn't quite fit. It just sounds a bit strange.

and wasted blood

- comparison to the wasted whiskey? Nice. Very smooth.

from Them.

- Here, I understand the meaning of the capital letter. This one's good.

The birds

- there should be a comma after this, I believe.

send echoes through the empty veins

- another amazing line. Wow.

The soulless bourgeois

- I liked the repetition in your other stanzas, but not so much here.

fingers on shattered flutes,
tongues on wasted whiskey.

- this is good, though. Refers to the title and wraps up your ideas nicely. I would suggest lips instead of tongues though.

Majestic ceilings and marble floors
enclose the Hearts
as they are eaten away by unheard wails,
unheard echoes.

- No criticism here. Well done on the last stanza, it is perfect.

Once again, a very emotional and meaningful poem. I like your writing style - you still manage to convey your thoughts and make the poem flow without using rhyming. Very interesting technique here.
It was a pleasure reading this, please keep writing, and keep me in touch with any new ones coming.
polly xx

H'okay, I've made it sooner than expected.

Like before, I guess I'll just jump into it.

Majestic ceilings and marble floors(.)
None can hear the echo
of the suffering;
none can hear the echo
of the choking.

So, I was a bit confused about that line break when I first read it. You weren't very clear on how that was meant to be said really. I can assume I've inserted the proper punctuation. Now, as for the stanza as a whole. Majestic ceilings is an okay description, but it's very transparent when I read through it. Marble floors is a bit worse. It's just marble floors. This sounds altogether like the beginning of a line one might use in a piece of fiction, not so much poetry. Again, try and be a little more creative. In the third line, you say the suffering. Well, again, as in your other poem, this is very point blank to me. Suffering is something in itself that can be described in so many different and more vibrant ways (as odd as that may sound.) It's something you can perhaps lead into a bit. All in general, I think this, as an opening stanza, may have been a little weak.

The pearls, they roll,
scattered to places unreachable,
forgotten –
where the lost Ones rest
forever –
beyond the shattered flutes
and wasted whiskey.

Second stanza, a bit better, but still not quite there I think. The fact that it happens to speak louder than your opening stanza is a bit disappointing. You have some really pretty words in here: pearls, wasted whiskey. Then you have some words that are just okay but that don't really seem to show these nicer words any justice. Words like roll, unreachable, forgotten, forever. Reading this seems so common. There really no vibrancy to it. And I'd like to think you can be a bit more creative as far as metaphorically speaking in this bit here.

Beyond the shattered skulls
and wasted blood
trickling round the corpses,
oozing through the bear-skin carpets.

I like this last line. I actually really like it. It just sounds nice. It seems to be carrying the weight of the entire stanza though, and nothing else seems to really stand out as nicely as it though. Again shattered skulls, wasted blood. A bit common. See if you can fluff this up some, maybe pretty it up a little so that it coincides with the ending line.

On a side note, reading this whole stanza through as a whole, it leans a bit too closely toward explaining. It seems only a fragment of something bigger to be said. It sounds as if you're leading into something coherent, yet you stop the thought before we reach into the next little bit. I'm at odds with this.

Immaculate white walls,
drenched with life it drew
from Them.

Well, there isn't really much I can say here. Perhaps that's because you aren't really saying much yourself as a poet. This isn't good, Mikko darling. No bueno! There is much more that can be said, but here you're beginning to shrink the size of your stanzas. You're draining from it the possibilities that can be achieved. Allow yourself some breathing space for more ideas to flow through. This three line little do-hickey you have here is pretty, but it's just unsavory. You need to elaborate for your audience. Please and thank you.

The birds(,) they sing their song(,)
send echoes through the empty veins
and empty glasses
of the soulless bourgeois.

I like the last bit, of the soulless bourgeois. I think it perhaps inserts some reason here after awhile of reading through. You have some nicer imagery going on here, the images seem a bit delicate, but I feel like it's falling a somewhat flat. You're being too brief! And the following stanza doesn't really seem to help it any. You're paying mind to the obvious again, when that's not what an audience wants to see with messages like this here. Don't beat around the bush but don't take forever to reach a small point either. Scatter this about the poem evenly.

The soulless bourgeois -
fingers on shattered flutes,
tongues on wasted whiskey.

Not a lot to say here, but again, that's because you don't give me much to think about or take in as a reader. I want to breath in the depths of the poem's essence you see. xD

Majestic ceilings and marble floors
enclose the Hearts
as they are eaten away by unheard wails,
unheard echoes.

Then you return to majestic ceilings and marble floors. This wasn't a good line to open with, and it's certainly an even worse one to come to close with. Either nix it or do something more with it if you expect to reuse it. Now, what I can respect is your coherency throughout the length of this. You really are showing that you have the ability to send across a decent message in a decent manner. What you're happening to struggle with is seeing this poem as a single life form. It seems a bit robotic in the sense that, yes, it's easy to understand what message you want to send across, but it's also not achieving this goal in a stylistically beautiful or interesting manner.

Well, I suppose that's about all I have to say here, Marco. xD As always, keep writing. You only get better by perseverance and lots and lots and lots of practice. And believe me, I of all people know how difficult poetry can be when attempting to execute it just right. But it's not always about building. It's about letting things flow out of you as natural as breathing. It's not letting the poem become a part of you, it's allowing this poem to drip of your essence from the time it comes out to the point it reaches your readers.

That all said, nice effort. I think this could indeed use a little bit of work though if you really want it to flow.

-Smylin' <3

I read it, and thought it was very nice. Your poem does a good job of keeping pace with the reader's impressions... In other words, your lines of imagery were just thick enough with meaning that I didn't understand them until after the line's last word. That way, my attention was kept, almost forcefully- like an iron vise- as I read line after line of pure, solid meaning.

The sporadic capitalizations caugh me off-guard. But, seeing as the context of the poem is unknown to the reader, there's a lot that I could infer. For instance, in this segment, I began to assume that the "Ones" were some kind of deathly, hidden creature, which came with its own imagery.

The pearls, they roll,
scattered to places unreachable,
forgotten –
where the lost Ones rest
forever –
beyond the shattered flutes
and wasted whiskey.

But, by the end of the next stanza, I realized the mistake of my own inferrence...

So, basically, what this comes down to is- make sure to cause the reader to infer what you want them to infer, or else the message of your poem may become construed in their minds. If you could master what you've done here, and interpose such skill into something slightly more concise, then I think you'd be even better than you already are.

Keep writing!