So, hai, ma love! I'm mean and harsh because you said it was ok. *nods* No idea what to do with your title, and I think I entirely agree with your tutor on the beginning. So uh, how's this. I'm just going to take out the bits I don't like, ok? Good. Also, anything I just struck through I either wasn't sure what to do with, or didn't like but didn't know how to take it out.
We are a generation of
gyrating on the dance floor,
bodies grinding the world
into dust
where age is just a number and youth
is forever is foreverin our minds.
The world is fashion make-up
video games technology i-phones
wake up and smell the proverbial coffee. << need something more snarky. Pre-made, fabricated, made-to-order, but not "proverbial" and I just don't like "technology ipohones" but you do need something else in there "video games and real reality" only, like, not so sucky. But yeah. We are a generation at war. << I dunno. If it's your title, I don't like it within the poem. if it's not... I'm still not liking it.
Behind the laptops and ultimate frisbee
artificial hearts beating
in the back of my head
and a war on terror, bombs falling in the abscess
of atkins diets. Financial fraud. << need more snark. "terror" is too overused, find something better. War on ourselves, war on something. But not terror. Same with "financial fraud." Find something better. Tie it in to the above, like... "of atkins diets bought with food stamps," only better.
[s]But I wonder
will Tom, Shelina or Andrew be the next
MasterChef?[/]<< I get it, but I don't like it. I'd say just get rid of it entirely. Be done with it! You don't really need any sort of ironic turn, so yeah. No more.
Ok, this isn't letting me preview, so I'll just hope i typed that all correctly!
<3
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