VALIDATE ME. CRITIQUE ME.

I should be studying for exams, but I'll pass anyway. Why? Because I'm a middle class white male. THAT'S WHY *blocks ears*

Anyway lately I've been hating on everything I write seriously rather than for artistic merit. In the last few days though I think I've been improving... but that shouldn't be for me to decide, so here's some stuff I'm chipping away at. This stuff's all pretty unfinished... but less unfinished than my usual angsty verbal wank. So judge and puke at the lack of stylistic control.

-STUFF THAT'S SOMEWHAT THOUGHT OUT-

Our hearts are on our sleeves
Because it's all we need
Fisherman's tales not to be believed
Never see someone swim so deep

I thought this sounded a bit too simple and boring but now I'm sort of warming to it. I want to write something on the importance of face value rather than the usual 'what's inside counts'. I mean, I even realise how I think I present and how things have shaped me is very different to their outward effects... Hell, I think you're reading and enjoying this...

The boiling turmoil
Right to reach for eyes in the sky
Trembling in tremors
The earth splits it's words in it's surface
Mispelled and rearranged

Again, and like everything else my noncommital births, this isn't finished, I know where I want to take it but the words aren't coming yet, if you dig. It's similar to the first one, but I'm feeling a slight variation in theme, rather misrepresentation, but I'd like to present it as both good and bad... which I'm finding hard right now.

An excellent hiding place found
Unremarkable, no movement, no sound.
Search carries on, wills never gave way
Found a corpse left behind
Given away by the stench, a stubborn decay

I tend to find my stuff too wordy and grammatical obsession taking up too much time, so this is good to get me to loosen up a bit (and not freak over 'inventing' words and stuff which noone's going to kill me for... I came up with 'lobotomic' the other day... it's awesome). Anyway, I've tried to kill some useless words and get the point across anyway.

This pride imprints in a sinister prince
Inky spectres in control
of the sphincter to the soul
Feeling fearful and forlorn
Not the reason you were born
The path you follow seems unknown

I'm thinking of splitting this into two or three different things and using them as focus points for two or three different poems or whatever I call these. Anyway, I actually like how alot of this sounds, at least the first couple of lines. I'm thinking of scratching all the 'in's because the repetitive alliteration seems to cover it anyway. Just observations.

This stake to rape a heart
that's been tearing you apart
Both have terrors in their eyes
Conceal their need for ties

This is a little lacking in actual direction I think. I THINK I know where it's going but again it's not coming to me yet (I WRITE USING FEIGNED PSYCHIC POWERS). This does strike me as a little too lyrical... and needs a little more alliterative flamboyance... I like the idea that we're not really all that separated from our own fears.

-LINES THAT SOUND TOO COOL NOT TO USE-

'Born of cold, plastic womb'

I got this from Mysterious Follower's links to abandoned building galleries. It was an amazing description for a plastic coating to stop a bannister from rusting. I really like that image with that description so I'm gonna steal it and write something using it... I just don't know where it fits yet, any ideas?

'Fogged up compliments with sales pitch'

I wrote this down in my douchey little black book of lines and sketches and words after some street preacher or whatever commented on my jumper... and in characteristic paranoid melodrama read into this a universally acquired autism. Possibly wrongly, but I think it's a good point, sometimes I know I get confused with people's motives thanks to being bombarded with advertising and stuff. I was thinking of turning this into some kind of scathing critique, but I haven't been feeling subtle enough to pull it off.

'Withdrawals from what I wished to exist'

A bit of an angsty interpretation from a bit in Naked Lunch where Burroughs types up a letter for help explaining he's become addicted to a substance that he doesn't think exists. Anyway, I occasionally slip into thinking that sometimes the things I'm aspiring for aren't real. For people familiar with Catcher in the Rye, it's a fear of phonyness. For normal people who now realise my perceptions of the universe are largely plagiaristic it's a fear for the loss of authenticity in favour of things like insecurity. But yeah, I want to use this for something, sometime.

'There's too much noise to discern sound anymore. Everything's falling into a cacophony of silence.'
'My life became the remote I held, flicking identical channels like identical people'

These are a bit scathing and angsting in here, but I thought they might suit some kind of dialogue for an idea I had watching Fight Club (AGAIN) the other day. I like the idea of maybe a short film narrated by someone in that pit of misery to just emphasize how it morphs and distorts the outside world.

'In this premade world I sit and must imagine it's destruction'

I wrote this down sitting on a park bench thinking about the idea of 'making your mark on the world'. The point, I thought, was so many other people have made marks on the world and manipulated it for themselves. My mark would be made over someone else's. I also thought it presented an idea of a world that seems to be doing alright. One where nobody has to work very hard to stay alive, everything we get is 'prepackaged'... which I think I might change 'premade' to (THIS IS WHY I DO THIS, IT GIVES PERSPEX... no... PERSPECTIVE!!!).

'Only madmen smile forever'

"Life's sinusoidal, you see" I said to someone once, no doubt waving my hand around in pseudo-intellectualism... Well, life has ups and downs and it's not life without them, opposites define each other. But this was the temptation of illusion, the idea to ignore all misery... but it also struck me as innocent. To ignore the normal option and instead smile regardless... I dunno, it's a bit weird but it's some random idea I had.

'I want a knight in shining armour, so hard they'll never hurt'

I like to play with tropes, I heard someone talking about being swept off their feet by a knight in shining armour. I liked the idea of necessitating the armour. I mean, we have an amazing capability to hurt people, among other things. But I like the idea of vulnerability in saviours, it's one of the things you realise as you mature.

'We think we're so deep, but six feet isn't out of reach'

This is a response to people complaining about how miserable they are and how beyond help they are and stuff... yeah... uh... *ducks under desk to avoid barrage of thrown implements*. Okay, well, it's just sort of thinking that maybe using your tragedy as the crux of your identity isn't a fantastic idea...


I might leave it there, everything else is still revolting and this is probably getting really boring. But I really want criticism and stuff. It helps to get ideas and improve and all that cal. So there's a comment section and I'll post a facebook link so you can comment there if you'd really rather. Hell, pm me on facebook or something if you really must warn me of how laughably awful I am. Or if you've had any ideas sound them off, I'd be happy to swipe... uuh... give my critique... (because it's SO worth something) or just read it if you'd prefer. Anyway I'm normally just enamoured with other people's talent anyway...

So, hope this was a somewhat interesting insight into my process and next time I'll try to post something substantial for a change...

TONGS AWAY!!!!!