poetry critical

online poetry workshop

in a looking-glass that sees both ways

poems are a ɹoɹɹıɯ:mirror, a yes-I-can with crayons the colour of Tachyons rushing out of whirl'ds where past-meets-future, reaching for-words yet going back-words for some more
they make many reflections like a ripple, and yet you're at zero-point too, from where the puddle tessellates to a past in the future you and you reflect it back-words and for-words for some more, 'til it reverberates just there, now and here, like an invertendo-innuendo that's an in-your-face ɹoɹɹıɯ:mirror...
a mirror-Kah rackles with the spirit of the times -- hmmmirror-reciprocate, and all that is recorded is written everywhere for anyone to see, and that'd be like a hit-list for revolutionary insurgencies and thus a powerful corollary of possible collapse scenarios concerning this empire, as the top one-percent are exacerbated into feeding the roots of alien alternative cycles ... nonetheless, 'I see you, you see me' and maybe together we're spied-upon in an irony of what it's like not to be truely free, but carry-on in a more human invertendo-innuendo, in a more momento-mori story, and anywayZ mirroring each other more merrily...
a Hallelujah anyways
another cycle of the Sun, rollin' 'round the earth 'yer on, then in cycles turned your way, yes, another day where cycles in the Sun are glimmerings dancing upon the Sea, making many reflections, and sympathetic tessellations vibrate in our oceanik-brain, where these orbits perigee, where we learn the lessons of leaving behind and faltering forward, where we would-if-I-could be the king who would be a man riding these cycles of the Sun by the Sea, going on this way, over and over again, mirrorly ...
and we'd become these just-in-time poet-ninJa assassins, recycling those one-percenters who wannabe' left alone with all of the crayons, reflecting the rapture in blue, and what we'd be longing to do, with every word revolting with the answer we made, and then we'd feed the roots of further cycles more than ever they had bloomed before ...

15 Feb 14

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 — unknown

i could use a latte right about now to go with this song.  if you would kindly sing it to me ;)
 — jenakajoffer

yes, I'd sing it over extra hot latte's to while away the time then roll around the Sea wall in the laughter of the Sun -- I'm glad you could hear the song jenkajoffer ;)
 — AlchemiA

Absolutely love 'crayons the colour of Tachyons'. Wondrously simple and gorgeous.

The entire piece is a complex write with a perfectly simple core. We are the art and the art is us reflecting one another in glorious symbiosis.

A good read that fills the head :)
 — jenn

thanks jenn -- I like that bit too as it makes us all colour the whirl'd in a timeless way, reflecting each other eh  -- I'm thinkin' that last strophe needs some work to make this epic ...
 — AlchemiA

I'd like to hear what those one-percenters do with the crayons when they're left alone with them ;)
 — jenn

those one-percenters are rewriting laws with those crayons -- they're proselytizing about what happiness-is so we can all believe -- happiness is highly over-rated; nonetheless, laughter works wonders -- indeed, the dog chases his tail, 'round and 'round, and we all laugh at such foolishness, yet the dog is happy by his reckoning -- so, I say what is this 'happiness tale' you've been running in circles about? -- the muse of glee is fickle -- yet, watch an 11 year old engage in the minutiae of life's wonders, learning with an inimitable passion ... let's learn something new, turn off the tv and watch snow fall ... let's laugh every morning at the visage in the mirror, so hairy and Dear -- you're all you've got but don't take anything seriously, especially your-self ...
 — AlchemiA

I start to think and then I sink
into the paper like I was ink.
When I’m writing I’m trapped in between the lines,
I escape when I finish the rhyme . . .
—Eric B. & Rakim, “I Know You Got Soul”
 — unknown

'This' veers into a narrow gyre, rolling 'round the moment into more, there where you and I are, surrounded by what life is fuKing for...
 — AlchemiA

"don't take anything seriously, especially your-self ..."

I never take serious things seriously, the universe is too absurdist for that ... but I do take ridiculous things seriously, as that's usually what's truth ;)
 — jenn

'This' veers into a narrow gyre, rolling 'round the moment into more, there where you and I are, insinuated by what life is fuKing for... a murmur, an in-your-face ɹoɹɹıɯ:mirror, a murmuration of invertendo-innuendos, making a whirl'd of emotion, and in the musical notion, that we're on the wings of flying hither-and-thither than ever we were before ...
 — AlchemiA

K being the 11th letter, of the alphabet we use, the nature of twinned duality in the alchemy of the transmutational Sacred Hermaphrodite - the intersex of the universe fuKing itself.
 — jenn

change at last strophe
 — AlchemiA

This made me smile at several points- L2, L4, L6.  Some of it felt repetitive in a way that was not entirely pleasant, though.  I wonder if a little nip, tuck wouldn't make this shimmer delightfully. :-)
 — akiikii

thanks akeekee -- mostly metaphor is a trick of the light to get the reflections just right, so, you-know, it's glinting in your eye as you release into the flower of meaning with a sigh; look at the mesmerizing-sea glimmering-many-Suns, it's sympathetic-tessellations resonate in your oceanic-brain, where synapses shivering-sentient luminescence reflect in-you again-and-again

... you're an ecstatic, swimming in a whirl'd-view, swooning from an ancient-ache, where deep calls to deep, and too, arising with an oceanic-dream waving inside of you...

"We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are." -- Anais Nin
 — AlchemiA

Are you saying I need a little nip-tuck?  Well, my jeans have been a little snug this winter....  Tessellation scintillation. I am awash in intoxicating self-discovery glitter dust.  And still smiling. *Flare/Glint.
 — akiikii

aKeeKee - You`re write about the tenor of the piece -- how it languishes in opinion and slips upon the squishy bits -- I just read Josephine Yu's "Never Trust a Poem That Begins with a Dream" and "Narcissist Revises Tidal Theory," both of which make great use of being non-linear, dancing on moving images, and are fully awesome.

Yu also does a really cool move by setting up expectations and then slanting her poems away from them.

don't trust 'this' -- Dreams are like Poetry;
Some are wishes, some are fears,
while but a few are prophecy!
Some are laughter, some are tears,
while some are mere philosophy.

Some writers write to be mean and right,
others to be liked, feel they belong;
then there is the Shiva-Grace: a destroyer,
a creator, a Diva of change!

An urge of nature in lyrical song...

She is mystic, language her crucible,
igniting grace to passion;
no past compels, nor future beckons,
Her dreams of light, this second sight
that comes of longing in the night.
 — AlchemiA

Oooh...you speak people and poet. Bilingual. I'm glad. I was beginning to envy and feel sorry for the baristas who must decipher your coffee orders. Sensible of you to study both dialects.  I will take up your reading homework and further explore undulating realities.and slippery expectations. I like your poem. It just needs a couple more footholds for those of us unaccustomed to such shiny depths. :-)
 — akiikii