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cannibal cannibal

one day there became me
sitting in a chair in a room of people
far apart and close to dice.
nervous poets of number, bruise eye.
i like the sound of winning, i can hear it
tremble in, tumble
where the cost gets more but the feeling cheaper .
you could put in a thousand and take out a
million and i would suck at the crumbs through
fake straw, delighting at the total
tumble.  then one day there became me,
a chair, soft cannibal of a man.

9 Oct 18

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This does not make any sense at all.
 — unknown

in what way?
 — DeformedLion

There is no way to tell who the "me" is in line 1.

I can only guess what the room is in verse 1, is it a casino? I ask this because you mention "dice," and the sound of "winning." If it is not a casino then I have not got a clue what the room is. If it is a casino, then so what? What you are trying to impart to the reader is so obscure that just knowing the room is a casino does not help me the reader to make sense of this at all.

Why are the "people" far apart, but close to dice? It doesn't make sense!!

If it is a casino, why are "nervous poets" there?

"Bruise eye" is nonsense, Are you saying the "nervous poets have "bruised" someone's eye?

The narrator says they "like the sound of winning" then leave the sentence fragment "I can hear it tremble in."  A sentence fragment means the narrator has left out what they can hear "the sound of winning" TREMBLE IN!!!

The piece carries on in the same vein.

I think I understand what the narrator is trying to get across with the "chair" being a "soft cannibal of a man" I see the "man" as a "couch potato." If this is right I still cannot grasp what the hell is going on in the whole piece.

If you have somehow come to the conclusion that a poem needs to be "a code to be cracked" then you are way of track.

You have used punctuation but not capped your I' or the first letter of sentences, this spoils your effort.

 — unknown

i really wish this high school english teacher would go back to whoring on the street. whoever got him into junior college and a job in little rock did him a disservice. before, his fingers were put to better uses. terminal syphllis ain't what it used to be.

faced with the reality that there are poets who can read poetry like this, he still tries to push a miss manners fascism on free and independent readers.

that said, this piece is a kind of tired 'thoughts" pushed and over edited into a tiny novel.
 — cadmium

all people who post as 'unknown' are pansys.
 — cadmium

If there are any moderators on this site worth their salt cadmium then your post should be deleted, it does nothing to help the writer of this piece. You do as much damage to this site as the Spammer.

This is a site for critique, not a site for slagging off people who attempt to critique the piece!!!

DeformedLion will learn nothing (about poetry) from you and he should tell you to contribute with knowledge of the subject, or, shut the fuck up.
 — unknown

you know how flowers follow the sun? i follow my words like i am a baby and my little fingers can't quite grasp those large mother shapes. the idea of unknown is the way a baby say da da, but you left my in the cradle and now its years later and i hate you and i love you but i don't understand the general meaning of you. the essence of contempt, i rattle with words.
 — DeformedLion

Jesus Christ!! This is a site for idiots.
 — unknown

I should have guessed from the nonsense of this piece that DeformedLion and Cadmium are the same person. I know this idiot writes as unknown as well, what a dick, especially when everything you post is not poetry, hahaha.
 — unknown

sure bro
 — DeformedLion

posting as unknown is pansy. this is about inferior writers feeding off the poets here, posting as unknowns and following the smell of fresh meat. eating the meat of reality to feed their little soap-opera decorator pansy feeling holes.

if i wrote this, then i suck as a poet. but, sometimes dark lion writes very good poetry, better than mine. the real critique of a poet to a poet is to become that poet, see how the poem was written, then see how you'd have written it. mostly, we learn how to be poets from reading other poets. sometimes, we give to the other poet a neutral image of what the poem actually looks like to others.

the 'this is very important and well written' comments by anons and people like jkweb are worthless self-serving little vanity sucks -- 'me so sensitive i read you, be my slave now'. people with inferior poetry consciousness don't even see how dumb they are, they just 'it's like a t.v. show' post what 'feels' good. this, after feeling up their butt-hole for that extra-special feeling so loved by the passive-aggressive narcissists on the t.v. talk shows and here in poetry critical.

it's always about how you make the words. if you cheat, it'll show. if you cheat by seduction, that'll show too. poets don't like to be cheated on or seduced into groupie.
 — cadmium