Young Writers Society

Well, I will be reviewing this one as you asked me to.

To begin with, I've read this poem over and over again. And there are some general features that I really found interesting. Like the formatting of the poem, it was really satisfying, and the explosion of the figures of speech throughout the poem was stupendous.

However, there are some points that I would like to draw your attention to.

"the tapeworms whisper in my ear.
Double text after double text
about how I'm dependent when
it's a time for independence.
Also about how I have feelings
for girls, ideas, and drugs,
but forget about that."

Starting with that part of the first stanza. After you illustrated to the readers a solid yet revolting personification with the tapeworms whispering and the very strong statement that it's time for independence, you wrote some incredibly weak lines that deteriorated the artistic value of the whole stanza. Which were:
"Also about how I have feelings
for girls, ideas, and drugs,
but forget about that."

ii.
"Tell her your feelings, Willard!"
the electrical socket says
as I shove a violet crayon
perfectly through its
six holes.

I slept on the couch that night,
phone on my chest,
Ginger Ale on the floor.

They said I need motivation,
but I just need something."

This whole part is abysmal by all means, and I will tell you why. Although you've been creative enough to come up with a figurative where Willard shoves a violet crayon perfectly through the electrical socket's holes, I'm guessing to shut it up, but the image you painted doesn't qualify to be anything. I mean, yes poetry is art and I would like to observe your poems as abstract paintings which I'm sure that you would me to and am guessing if you were a painter yourself you'd have been an abstract painter. However, there's a very fine, yet very clear line between abstract art and distortion. Unfortunately, I don't think this image you illustrated qualifies to be some sort of abstract art but it's rather a group of random words put together meaninglessly.

Sleeping on the couch with a phone on your chest and a ginger ale on the floor waiting for something isn't considered as poetry. It's not categorized as narrative poetry and it's the furthest it could ever be from satire. It's simply a boring line in a book, except that in a book it might signify to something meaningful.

"Everything is just a text,
a friendly phrase,
or spiritual seppuku.
I'd listen to your problems,
I really would,
but I forget you're human too."

This part is my very well written. I like it a lot. This time, you nailed abstraction. But then in the next two parts...

iv.
I'd hear you out for once,
to not be so down
or be so bummed about my life,

but if I can't can't
wear black and sleep in,
I wouldn't get your hopes up.

v.

I thought about getting my tie
stuck in a lawnmower, but
that'd be pathetic.
My hand fits perfectly
down the bowling ball chute,
but it's not about the size of the ship
(they all say)
it's the motion of the ocean

Well, to begin with, those two parts which were written in a totally different style that contradicts the other parts. I don't remotely relate to anything you wrote earlier by reading those parts. I don't relate to anything really! You, again categorized your poem as a satire. However, I really doubt that you understand what satire poems are. Satire is a form of poetry that poets use to criticize the corruption of an individual or a society. More importantly, USING irony, humor or exaggeration. So please help me by pointing out how is this considered as a satire, given the brief accurate definition of it.


"When frogs go extinct,
flies will cover our bodies.
I'll leave my chest exposed
so they can crawl right in."

Finally, I really like that part a lot. I can see the abstract portrait you successfully painted. Optimism or pessimism, it doesn't concern me, in fact, I like to think of it as a heroic act that you would save humanity by maintaining the natural balance of the universe whilst you sacrifice yourself. And that's the point of abstract art, it's objective and meaningful.


I really hope my review is helpful to you. Keep on writing


Regards,
YD

I don't get it. Not to say its bad. I'm just stupid.

I've been meaning to review this since the first time I read it, which was the day you posted this. Alas, real life has been trampling me, and I'm only getting to it now.

I'm going to talk about the whole poem in general, and then I'll talk stanza by stanza.

This is categorized under satire, which really always throws me off. It always makes me think about what is sincere and what is not in the poem, and if it's satire because it actually means the opposite, or if it's satire because... well, to be honest, I've always had a hard time with satire. So, uh, I'm going to operate as if I didn't know what genre you put it under. That's how it would appear in a literary magazine.

This looks like an exploration of coming of age with a hint of "romance" thrown in. It is all too common for someone's coming of age tale to be riddled with lukewarm relationships that seem to only bring both parties down. I like the progression and that you used the roman numerals to separate. Without them, I would feel like the stanzas would jump too quickly from one to another. The indent is also interesting, as if each stanza is an addition to the stanza before it. Like the feelings are all connected, but you couldn't cram everything you're feeling into one stanza. So you had to elaborate. And then you had to elaborate on that.

Was the extra spacing in between stanzas 2 and 3 intentional?

I like that you use the strikethroughs. It's a very modern aspect that sets it apart from a lot of other poetry. It shows what you're really thinking, but adds a secretive tone, like you don't necessarily want the audience to know what you're thinking.

Anyway, stanza i.
If I'm not mistaken, Strange, your name is Willard, so the first stanza sets up everything nicely. We get a real person (and know that this poem is at least semi-autobiographical), and a time (texting means modern to me).

Also about how I have feelings

Ginger Ale on the floor.

but if I can't can't

I'll leave my chest exposed
so they can crawl right in.

To begin with, I've got to say you approached your subject matter incredibly well. Thank you for that.

Also, the formatting made it very easy, yet interesting, to read, so great job on that!

Other than that, I can't really find much to say about it beyond: well done. This is probably the best poem I've read that you've written, Strange.

So, I didn't have time to comment earlier, and I won't really say all that much or review, because I don't do poetry,

but this is one of your finest in quite a while.

I really enjoyed this.

wow. I am honestly so grateful that i followed a fleeting thought to a site i havent been to in a while because this was absolutely beautiful. It honestly moved me.

The poem is all over the place in its thoughts and subjects which is juxtaposed so creatively with the labelled and formatted text. Though quickly changing, every line is packed with emotion and rawness and it comes together so brilliantly that i feel like im almost too close to you and your inner thoughts.

Another thing that strikes me is that through the poem the reader can see every development in the human psyche, brought to life with imagery in action of the world around you like "the electrical socket says // as I shove a violet crayon // perfectly through its // six holes." It makes the reader feel involved from the beginning after seeing something usually unsettling. Maybe im crazy but even the use of the colour violet specifically sounds poetic to me and like it adds to the vibrancy and abstractness of the poem.

What follows is the kind of intense yet thoughtful mental unraveling that I love in an emily dickinson poem. The use of crossing out your text is a modern and beautiful further insight into what the poet is actually thinking as opposed to what they want people to think or even what they want themselves to believe.

The ending is a simple four line stanza, closer to the original left side of the page and labelled with one world that feels already somber in its finality when the reader has yet to understand what the poet is going to do and is looking for that finality. The words within the structure are by no means simple and really solidify the despair throughout the poem in one last (almost) goodbye and morbid imagery.

I really cant say that theres anything i dislike in this poem or could critique you on. I actually think its one of my favourites so that justifies the long love letter-ish review.

I hope you continue to write, I would love to read more.
(and my first profile photo was squidward haha) x