Sloppy Chaos Turpentine ( insert random title here )

The Dead King's handmaidens guide us home.
Such subtle, lilting tone,
cast from flutes of jade and bone.

The song, a dirge, and celebratory lullaby.
It called us back,
from deepest dreams of burning sky.

The stench of ashes, incense oil,
churn the sky.
Beneath horizons, oceans boil.

Our flesh of nightshade, purple and beware.
The remedies
beckon jaws to hare

This end will be made melody.
Fitting funerary,
we ancient Gods of entropy.

The luscious lies you keep,
all that you sow,
is what we will reap.

And if stars may shriek and weep with ire,
let them wail,
As we light their pyre.



People: feel free to tear this apart if you want. I posted this because I had a conversation the other night with another writer, about the difference between stuffing a meaning in artificially and letting verse take its natural course. The above poem is one of my least favorite efforts, and in fact I despise it on many levels. However, I love the idea I was trying to present - I love it so much I've been unwilling to scrap the poem despite many failed attempts at revision.

The point I'm trying to make is that we can always do better by letting the thematic elements arise naturaly, rather than flinging them about and slapping them down in forced submission. I mean, just look at the result.

I for one like my work much better when the theme is in the back of my head, along with story, and the WORDS are in the forefront, the rthym and emotion of a piece of writing. The above, in my opinion, is a perfect example of the opposite. I knew exactly the story I wanted to tell, so much so that I think it ruined the effort.

So there it is folks. WyrdeOne's Poetry Workshop.

And I meant it when I said - feel free to tear this apart. I've been working with this little hunk of junk for what seems like ages, and I just can't get it right.

Also, if people would like, feel free to post your own poems here and tear them apart yourself, berate them, abuse them, that would be fun. hehe

Do as you will.

Presupposed and Lost

The Dead King's handmaidens guide us home.
their path of silence caught,
apart from their ritual, fraying moan

The song, a dirge, and celebratory lullaby.
implored us our sorrowed pain
and desacrated our questions why.

The stench of ashes, incense oil,
caught up in sign,
the Dead King was never loyal....

Our flesh of nightshade, purple and beware.
The handmaidens laughter,
made the shadows catch my stare.

This end will be made melody.
by the moth stained hair,
the handmaidens and their pity.

The luscious lies you keep,
apart from Aye,
from our step is where your bread shall seep

And if stars may shriek and weep with ire,
the light shall aways bleak,
the Dead King, Aye, his sire


Admittedly a hackneyed attempt, but then again, the original intent of the poem was difficult for me to decipher.......I decided in the spirit of collaborative efforts to keep the first line in every verse and see what happened....

Originally posted by WyrdeOne
The point I'm trying to make is that we can always do better by letting the thematic elements arise naturaly, rather than flinging them about and slapping them down in forced submission.

Agree one hundred percent......the real driving force of one's experience is contained in the "response to the paper." Morals and points can restrict your direction and limit your use of the limitless database that is one's mind.......

I have many pieces that I would like to tear up but retain merely because it is a manifestation of a point in my evolution...........

Good post! I was wondering if anyone would take me up on my offer, it's not every day I let someone take a chainsaw to my work. I'm glad you took the time to respond.

Hackneyed attempt indeed, but so was mine, so I see nothing wrong with that. That's what this thread is all about.

I will say I liked two of your images (in particular) very much, the "moth stained hair" and "ritual, fraying moan." Those both struck me as very visually acute, and strong, emotional images at that, and the second one had a really nice sound to it, a nice peak-into-valley drop, I dunno, I always have a hard time explaining why I like something, but sufficed to say, liked it.

"from our step is where your bread shall seep" <-- that was an interesting line that took me a while to figure out, and I suspect I may have grasped the wrong straw. Is this supposed to elicit the imagery of food/bread (wheat) springing up from the footsteps, or footprints? I eventually connected this line to the imagery in Princess Mononoke where the Great Forest Spirit is walking, killing everything he touches, and when he lifts each foot, the life just starts springing up out of the decay, like green shoots roaring out of the ground to overtake the brown and lifeless patch left in the Spirit's wake. Is that the intent? Or are you one of those cryptic, spooky poets who just widens their eyes and takes a drag on their cigarette when asked a question? Or are you one of those poets who thinks their work means whatever the reader thinks it means. I'm sort of the latter. BTW, no offense intended, I swear, I'm just joking around.

Feel free to post whatever poetry you want here, we can have fun playing mad scientist, or Reanimator if you prefer.

It's so liberating to be a crazy writer. There's more of us on this board than I initially suspected, I've talked to like three, four of them in U2Us, it's really cool. We've got a nice little writers community here, in the clever guise of a conspiracy forum. We're so sneaky. hehe

Forever A Cusp

Originally posted by WyrdeOne
Good post!.......Those both struck me as very visually acute, and strong, emotional images

Thanks....good to hear feedback like that, as their creation was coupled with a nonchalant dismissal and nagging doubt.....

a nice peak-into-valley drop, I dunno, I always have a hard time explaining why I like something

I think I know what you mean......when I phonetically think about a passage or group of words, I note thier connotation with a percieved rythem....especially in poetry, for obvious reasons........or maybe that's just me and my attempts at explanation are met with the same walls

MemoryShock
"from our step is where your bread shall seep"

WyrdeOne
all that you sow,
is what we will reap.

I was trying, and I believe this was the only passage I did this with, to convey the same meaning. It was intentional as the adage, "You reap what you sow," was consistent with my intended 'plotline.' I kind of reversed it, however, to mean that 'what you get is what we allow,' instead of the more direct,"we get what you make/allow." The difference is subtle, but distinct.

I take issue with my use of the word 'bread', though. It connotes to heavily on material gain, where I was waxing more philisophical.......

To clarify my intent as a whole would be to use more fully the Dead King and handmaidens.....The Dead King represents the truth in all it's unglorified form.......the handmaidens are life; the life lived and the life encountered......their path is that towards the Dead King....

Unfortunately, the thought was expressed inadequately because I enjoyed the charachters and my interpretation of your original thought, of which I shall inquire to soon enough. I had a good time with this, as it reminds me of a William S. Burroughs essay.......a piece that pondered what it would be like if all the writers in the world got together and compared the writings they had thrown away, or more directly, what exactly would a good writer throw away......a reason why I keep all most everything I write, despite my often seething contempt for my expressions upon sobering....

Or are you one of those cryptic, spooky poets who just widens their eyes and takes a drag on their cigarette when asked a question?

Or are you one of those poets who thinks their work means whatever the reader thinks it means

I tend to be more of this type....I like to encourage the mental process of others. Though I will say that personal meanings of my own writing usually come after the fact.....I like to keep a general idea of what I'm doing and let the words choose themselves......


The meaning I got from your poem was that of a universal expression of cycles, and the way of man in relation to the overwhelming mysteries of life *The remedies, beckon jaws to hare* and the heart wrenching truth of death *And if stars may shriek and weep with ire, let them wail, As we light their pyre*

Or maybe I'm generalizing to much....?...

my favorite line......."And if stars may shriek and weep with ire." A great visual

Let Us See Where Zis May Go...

Originally posted by Wyrde One
Feel free to post whatever poetry you want here, we can have fun playing mad scientist, or Reanimator if you prefer.

This is from a long time ago.....

Untitled (I know, kind of boring......could never settle.. )


Thick, foggy haze
cast upon obstruse horizon
The opaque surface of an ageless ocean,
it's soporific rythem as it crashes upon
carefully placed rocks

Droplets of watersprinklea monstrous wave
Cool breezes dash through early morning
the symbolism runs deep
Why today, what makes it different?
Which words failed to even leave my mouth?

Looking around,
I used to do this, here, then
I was here
What has changed, but only
my interpretation of a slowly dancing pier
and fading haze....

11/25/97

Definetely not one of my better efforts......this occured in one of my customary 'trances' just out of high school....

Do as you will........or not..........as you can tell, there is no traditional rythem or style.....just some words..........I'm feeling oddly insecure right now........My next one will be more my current style, assuredly....


[edit on 28-3-2005 by MemoryShock]

[edit on 28-3-2005 by MemoryShock]