freedom
3-23-06
Freedom
relax, lie back or stand up
meditate on the nonexistence of all things,
rise to the top of a high city building and scream
into the pouring rain,
freedom
inside your mind’s eye,
the symbols you’ve carve from the grand world-mold
twist and tumble and move and shake,
they dance, monk following a guitar groove on mountaintop,
laughing through illusion, screwing yourself into the air
and flying like a meditation on weightlessness made real.
Freedom
relax, let the your life condense on your mirror,
sweet droplets of shimmering, concave distortions
into the man from the market grinning,
the scream from a childhood passing by the haunted house,
into the sweet nature of reality, the book world
that you can only see shimmering, concave & distant
unfathomably distant, a minute away and died
because your churning butter brain
will never be resifted into the shape
that can support your gonzo logic,
extending into the beyond,
where perception is seeing the inverse concave world
from within a sweet droplet, plopped onto a mirror
as a study of pores and boredom rubs stubble in contemplation
and you’ve returned home to chuckle
at the years spent in isolation from the places where futility screams,
Freedom
Because hell is fear,
and you have none.
because strength is utter conviction
in the superiority of a mind, properly-trained,
and the belief that no matter how much it hurts,
it ain’t more real’n your twitchy inner gyrations
(and you have it, hold it, am it
world spinning so fast it must’ve been planned
and it doesn’t matter, t’is just pretty
a lurking leaking ice-sphere in the sky,
melting and puddling and culturing,
sprouts and shrouds and annihilations.)
Freedom
Freedom is
having the power of a transformer,
chugging yourself into any shape,
and the understanding, that responsibility
is how they kill your soul.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
hehe, thanks pal.
Psy,
You overlooked the plentiful (and quite rare) praise I dropped on you. I didn't think this was weird at all--rather, I thought it was very beautiful. There was just one line I thought was strange.
Brian
I was about to make a very rare long critique and then Brian stole it.
I read through the entire thing, and I agree with him completely, so now I have nothing to do to waste my time.
Good job. I really do love reading your works, PsyLynx.
It wasn't supposed to be weird. It just worked, when read aloud. Maybe awkward when read, oh well.
I wasn't going to do a full critique, but... [comments], {remove}, (add)
freedom
3-23-06
Freedom [a very hard topic to write about, because it's been done so many times before. If you're gonna write about freedom, don't say "freedom." Tell me why and how you're free or not free.]relax, lie back or stand up
meditate on the nonexistence of all things, [predictable, not very subtle]
rise [how are you rising?] to the top of a high city building and scream
into the pouring rain, [cliche]
{freedom}
inside your mind’s eye,
the symbols you’ve carved from the grand world-mold
twist {and} tumble {and} move and shake,
they dance, monk following a guitar groove on mountaintop,
laughing through illusion, screwing yourself into the air
and flying like a meditation on weightlessness made real. [good lord! I like this stanza...but it goes SO FAST.]
{Freedom}
relax, let the your life condense on your mirror,
sweet droplets of shimmering, concave distortions
into the man from the market grinning,
the scream from a childhood passing by the haunted house,
into the sweet nature of reality, the book world
that you can only see shimmering, concave & distant
unfathomably distant, a minute away and died
because your churning {butter} brain
will never be resifted into the shape
that can support your gonzo logic,
extending into the beyond,
where perception is seeing the inverse concave world
from within a sweet droplet, plopped onto a mirror
as a study of pores and boredom rubs stubble in contemplation [Beautiful!!]
and you’ve returned home to chuckle
at the years spent in isolation from the places where futility screams,
{Freedom}
Because hell is fear,
and you have none.
because strength is utter conviction
in the superiority of a mind, properly-trained,
and the belief that no matter how much it hurts,
it ain’t more real’n your twitchy inner gyrations [don't be weird for weirdness's sake]
(and you have it, hold it, are it
world spinning so fast it must’ve been planned
and it doesn’t matter, it's just pretty
a lurking leaking ice-sphere in the sky,
melting and puddling and culturing,
sprouts and shrouds and annihilations.)
{Freedom}
Freedom is
having the power of a transformer,
chugging [don't like this word] yourself into any shape,
and the understanding{,} that responsibility
is how they [who are 'they'?] kill your soul.
Definitely enjoy this piece. i would like to see that middle stanza as a stand-alone poem. You just need to work on being more concise; at the root of all of your poetry is some really, really excellent stuff, but you clothe it in rambling.
Brian