poetry critical

online poetry workshop



expanding negative-space
unknown

...from the eye
 1
of an artist's
 2
howling-pen
 3
language-weeps
 4
 
 
language-weeps
 5
 
 
after-words language-weeps
 6
 
 
from the wounds that reason makes;
 7
 
 
seep from wounds of omission,
 8
seep from some-deep-super-scary-SaṃsKāra,
 9
seep from some gimme-gimballed lurching-duality,
 10
 
 
trembling from the loss of blood
 11
lost in the wailing rhythm of suffering,
 12
...
 13
innocent victims like you and me,
 14
lost between infinite-Love and "I'm not worthy",
 15
 
 
there where the manic-music lifts
 16
dreams farther-f u r th e r then the stretchered edges in longings go,
 17
 
 
to those places where the bubble-breaks,
 18
there
 19
 
 
where all that's left is dark and deep.
 20

5 Nov 10

Rated 10 (8.5) by 7 users.
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anod-enna-wink to the artist who howled his pen at http://www.poet rycritical.net/read/66053/
 — AlchemiA

repair the repetition!
 — unknown

prepare the prognostication
 — unknown

seventeen..this line is provoking ;)
 — unknown

i say, always check for the number, 13.

... says it all, hehe.
i commend the iteration.

; )
 — fractalcore

gotcha fractalcore ...
 — unknown

language is the continuation, the illusion that one thing involves something else. the artist convinces us that the dot is a line.

the complete sadness i feel; the wastefulness of my friends making themselves... the diamond in the pond, glittering like a billion water.

a lot of lonely words in this.
 — bmikebauer

thanks for lifting the veil revealing the man-you-fractured-red-ochre-core, where it's really sore ... yeha miKe it's using the dark negative-space, there where the image breaks against the inside of your frontal-lobes, like country-music let loose in your brain, where it hurts over and over again....
 — AlchemiA

cool poem that really takes flight at line 11.  nice.
 — JKWeb

thankS JKWeb for the visit 'n diggin' it

(her eyes shine whirl'ds pulsing from a red-ochre core)
into her blood-rhythm'd hand
reaching over a distance that is bent but cannot hold...
 — AlchemiA

i'm sylvia pojoli, reporting from the em, while undergoing emergency surgery
 — unknown

Sylvia Pujoli failed to pronounce Nicaragua Nee-ca-rah-hua today and was fired by NPR.
16 days ago from web  ... And I hope yer' retreating in recovery in a room with a view that makes many reflections inside you
 — AlchemiA

Your Ghibli-gimbaled bits are tasty re-treats, sylvia
 — AlchemiA

we should invest in futures on these para-social networks using deep-reflexive all-go-rhythms with branch-physics Game-theory adaptors, which're Scholarly audited by moi: ahh, yes but these para-social relationships we have with the Game layer, internet-web alliances, which is a data-type inter-weaved with Google-Maps API, extrapolated over the reality-matrix which is translated easily to "EYE 'pod" 'n GPS fingering-windows, within the milieu of the glass-bead games most logical consequence, and then we'll jingle-jangle-jingle and we'll go ridin' merrily along...
 — AlchemiA

Meeting another moron in the loony bin is a transcendental experience. How could it not happen he asks himself, how could it not happen. Question mark of course, Popeye.
I hate Popeye, but still this changes the entire nature of the loony bin experience for me. This is a place where morons meet. For morons to meet and eat and cheat. For morons to feast upon eyes. The fools are oh so gullible. Don't they know they're loony cartoons. To feed our appetites, and now the question is not when but why they would put us in with Hannibal Lektor.
 — unknown

this 'blurb' may simply be an Artistic interpretation of something I may have no idea about... nevertheless, we should invest in futures on these 'para-social' networks using deep-reflexive all-go-rhythms with branch-physics Game-theory adaptors, which I Scholarly audited: ahh, well, these para-social relationships we have with the "Game layer," and they're open internet-web alliances, which is a data-type inter-weaved with Google-Maps API, then extrapolated over the reality-matrix which is then translated easily to "EYE 'pod" 'n GPS fingering-windows; kinda' like the milieu of the "glass-bead games" most logical consequence, and then we'll jingle-jangle-jingle and we'll go ridin' merrily along...

note-bene: The Glass Bead Game (Das Glasperlenspiel) is the last work and magnum opus of the German author Hermann Hesse.

and Tex Ritter http://www.yo utube.com/watch?v=l_9pVRZ0QKw

sings for tha guys 'n dolls

(I Got Spurs That) Jingle Jangle Jingle lyrics

I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin' merrily along
And they sing, 'Away, too glad, you're single'
And that song ain't so very far from wrong

Oh, Lily Bell, oh, Lily Bell,
Though I may have done some foolin, this is why I never will

I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin' merrily along
And they sing, 'Away, too glad, you're single'
And that song ain't so very far from wrong

Oh, Mary Ann, oh, Mary Ann
Though I've done some moonlight walking this is why I up and went

I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin' merrily along
And they sing, 'Away, too glad, you're single'
And that song ain't so very far from wrong

I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin' merrily along
And they sing, 'Away, too glad, you're single'
And that song ain't so very far from wrong

Oh, Sally Jane, oh, Sally Jane
Though I'd love to stay forever this is why I can't remain

I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin' merrily along
And they sing, 'Away, too glad, you're single'
And that song ain't so very far from wrong

Oh, Bessy Lou, oh, Bessy Lou
Though we’ve done a heap of dreamin' this is why it won't come true

I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle
As I go ridin' merrily along
And they sing, 'Away, too glad, you're single'
And that song ain't so very far from wrong

So I'll go jingling, a-jangling a-jingling along ...
 — AlchemiA

yee-haw that's like a Zen-koan, eh? something told me inside that you walk the same as everyone who is hurt inside and does writes-of-passage as their way of individuating in-treatment... like miK's roots of poetry dialogue and the endless swimming toward the goal, which for him is either writes-of-passage or oblivion

personally, I don't need to choose, as I find the immediate uses of Epiphany as an equivalencing brain-rush, surg'd with juicy AWE, expanding negative-space, which is slippery on the edge where your lobes 'round a'bout, where neuRomancing neurons flower into sudden new-directions, where ecstasy gives away to crossing the divine, where you'll shift to neutral against all odds, making your way, jingles jangling like for whom the bell tolls, in a heart full of hunch-back regrets, for pulling your wire day in and day out, making the Game-layer fract-out in constant-reVerb


then we've terms agreed and can enjoy para-social play from here-on-in, trip over our funny-bone now and again, layer our trivials with dubious terms, remain wholly-conflicted like a donut must feel with negative-space representing what's real ...
 — AlchemiA

You're a fucking tool.  Just shut up already.
 — unknown

this tool comments toodly-ooo

MONSTERS -- Gareth Edwards quirky vision of Lovers in a Dangerous Time

http://www.i mdb.com/title/tt1470827/?ref=nf

yabber-walky -- that's when you walk the talk, anyways, when you get a chance, you should watch this movie: Gareth Edwards, MONSTERS, "Six years ago NASA discovered the possibility of alien life within our solar system. A probe was launched... to collect samples, but crashed upon re-entry over Central America. Soon after, new life form began to appear and half of Mexico was quarantined as an INFECTED ZONE. Today, the American and Mexican military still struggle to contain "the creatures"... Our story begins when a US journalist agrees to escort a shaken tourist through the infected zone in Mexico to the safety of the US border."

I found the movie adorable and crosses genre-roles with sentimental-elegance. The storyline, the conflicted friends/would be/could be/ all'round American boy meets American Girl in the infected zone where they find out what Intelligence an alien life form really is, albeit they're MONSTERS and so they're merciless hunters for frequencies like TV or car lights and if you happen to be in the way of their 'feeding', well you're not bothering them, but they may walk all over you; did I not say that they're bigger than a house, maybe even a Barn.

The somewhat campy metaphoric vision that Gareth Edwards translates into a winning story of post 911, post apocalyptic, Lovers in a Dangerous Time, is an Ingenious view of the borderlands, the red-zone where the bodies are. Gareth uses a crafty-intellect with brilliant photography and mesmerEyes'd CGI and puppetry to stylEyes and tell the tragic-tale naturally. Sets are huge and backdrops this sweet story of a reticent couples hazardous hero-journey with Monsters in Love, and she becomes one of his many quests, with gosh-darn almost kisses.

nonetheless, the best movie to come out of America since 911 messed with their hearts and heads; this is the American metaphor for change, for comprehending that Monsters have an urge to merge and need the space to do it...
 — AlchemiA

you know that frisson of minutiae converging and extrapolating in fractal-EYEs, seeing but not-believing, while riding your body-of-cycles between rain-drops, listening to the whirl'd-scape on the road where your wheel rolls, up and down, and your iPod plays synchro-Niceties in found surround-sound ... is that the integer-of-me co-creating another sentimental-reality?

the synergy-of-the sound-scape in-difference of rational equation; integral-differences; a stochastic differential equation (SDE) with a resultant synergy
 — AlchemiA

indeed if not in essence then in my whirl’d view :)

Posted on November 11, 2010 by admin

yeah, I hate Winnipeg, though I’m from there and if you look at Portage Ave.,  just write, it’s really part of a highway that traverses our true north strong and free, all the way here to the West-coast, to the Mountains, the Sea and me …

how would truth break it down so it came back as a visceral frisson up yer’ spine, in-words both yours and mine

“Most people, including ourselves, live in a world of relative ignorance. We are even comfortable with that ignorance, because it is all we know. When we first start facing truth, the process may be frightening, and many people run back to their old lives. But if you continue to seek truth, you will eventually be able to handle it better. In fact, you’ll want more! It’s true that many people around you now may think you are weird or even a danger to society, but you don’t care. Once you’ve tasted the truth, you won’t ever want to go back to being ignorant”

Socrates : Greek philosopher, mentor to Plato (469 – 399 BC)

Source: The Allegory of the Cave and Book 7, The Republic

I remember cold alone nights walking in the noxious dirty-exhaust snow after the buses had gone home for the night… wandering in search of heat, while moving fast through the street…

from the dirty-snows of WinterPeg to the true North, Strong and Free; Leaf Rapids, Thompson and me: well it takes a certain amount of misery to fuel a jump, horror begins at home they say — I was in a triangle relationship with two people I loved very-much, which perplexed me into partnering with the gal — I packed two steel-suitcases after crashing into her personal agenda – one suit-case with books and one with the paraphernalia of living every day — went North and learnt to whistle at the Northern-lights to call ‘em down – met a musician-teacher from the states who saw that glint in my eye – he turned me onto jazz and P.D Ouspensky’s, A New Model of the Universe, which fit well with my study of Nietzsche at the time — I became a cross-country ski champion and canoe’d soft lakes in the Spring/Summer in the early morning mist — watched Nature roil’d with rage ’til just before dusk, when the sharp-edge of the sky became silence’d by the blood-setting Sun — watched the bears and eagles and great white swans, the Queens Swans, the humming-bird, the great black raven we called Thompson Turkeys ’cause they’re the size of, well, a Turkey – had a trap-line for wild-hare and ate Squirrels out there – wolf watched me but left me alone, being hardy to the bone, built a log-cabin and felt the rhythms of that stark land; I could see the lonely rails of my ski tracks disappear into the parallaxing void — after that, I went back to the urban-scape to meet the dancing grrl with wings on her heart, we dipped in tears and laughter…

so, we’re more than the sum of all who’ve gone before, and a mutation, an illuMentation, merCuriously realEyes’d on the sharp-edge of a glance: and always the fool ready to leap into another hapless romance … however, I recall that up North the canoe and cross-country skis were my main means of transportation — I was awed by natures rhythms of silence and storm, that activity is followed by quiescence the norm — those quiet times just before dawn and dusk, when I felt a singular Peace so much — so it’s important to have an internal sky, or an inner-river that rolls out to the sea, where the mind is both a bird and a fish, in tune with struggle and equanimity … more to follow
 — AlchemiA

Do shut up.
 — unknown

an invertendo to you too unK
 — AlchemiA

Octavio Paz testifies: “Love is a wound, an injury…Yes, love is a flower of blood.”
 — unknown

ro me o...
 — aliar

well, that's a choice and many ascending-avatars spent eons of time in their caves trying to get out from behind the many-reflections of this sentimental-reality in flow -- this was the goal for awhile and they were called stream-winners when they'd finally grasped that the numinous moving-us is just a trick of the light --

however, the means of getting out of the stream all together was as illusive as stepping in the same stream twice, so they sat staring at forever, until wonder turned into awe and their eyes glittered with the beauty that they saw, and then they found that the stream returns in an infinite 'eternal-recurrence' which means that not only do you step in the same stream twice or more, but that the stream craves you more and more each time it passes by, longing for you in infinite waves, speeding up to feel you step-inside; 'tis then that you have more and more deja-vu's flowing inside-out to open you wide, from the free-flowing grace of this streaming-embrace, a streaming-love within which you abide ...
 — AlchemiA

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