21·Aug·2006 · "Gematria" · MyNecroticSnail

[WickedEve]

Gematria
by MyNecroticSnail

Thirty-four flames on the moon pie
dimly do they shine.
Champagne, noo! Paper cups - Nehi
I count eight, maybe nine.

A coven in the moon pie night,
A celebration of poetry dying,
A scene of some demotic rite,
of writing without even trying.

The nabors heard 400 wails
of pallid verse and livid rime
and pyled off the trail, the entrails
of Miss Muse, a crime

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers real, you should be learning.)

scene so horrific, marked by star,
the five points of nether heaven.
The trod of twenty feet, bizarre,
sixty-eight empty shoes, eleven

barefoot with a hundred lame excuses
of who, what, where; alibis
of how they could not murder muses.

After all the truth is lies

And four sadly equals seven.

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers reel, you should be learning.)​

Most important, did I get the rhymes right?? and the numbers?
Does it have too many adverbs? adjectives? Is it too diluted?

 

[average gina]

Gematria

Thirty-four flames on the moon pie
dimly do they shine.
Champagne, noo! Paper cups - Nehi
I count eight, maybe nine.

A coven in the moon pie night,
A celebration of poetry dying,
A scene of some demotic rite,
of writing without even trying.

The nabors heard 400 wails
of pallid verse and livid rime
and pyled off the trail, the entrails
of Miss Muse, a crime

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers real, you should be learning.)

scene so horrific, marked by star,
the five points of nether heaven.
The trod of twenty feet, bizarre,
sixty-eight empty shoes, eleven

barefoot with a hundred lame excuses
of who, what, where; alibis
of how they could not murder muses.

After all the truth is lies

And four sadly equals seven.

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers reel, you should be learning.)​

Most important, did I get the rhymes right?? and the numbers?
Does it have too many adverbs? adjectives? Is it too diluted?

More people who are good at structured poetry will speak on this, so don't live or die on my opinion.

To me, the following lines need or don't need extra beats:
dimly do they beat beat shine[/]

of Miss Muse a (tragic?) crime

Count to here, do you smell (remove the) burning

I'm not sure why "and sadly four equals seven" is there.

I like the rhythm (and here is the part where there are more experienced people who will probably not say this), but I don't understand the poem. But then, I don't understand many, so that is not a dig on your poem. That's what makes poetry perfect--the imperfection of interpretation.

(Good grief, did I just say that?)

Everything else was placed well, in my humble opinion.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

I'm not sure why "and sadly four equals seven" is there.

Where are my italics? Eve? italics please.
Bad enough you sat on it for months.....

Thirty-four flames on the moon pie
dimly do they shine.
Champagne, noo! Paper cups - Nehi
I count eight, maybe nine.

A coven in the moon pie night,
A celebration of poetry dying,
A scene of some demotic rite,
of writing without even trying.

The nabors heard 400 wails
of pallid verse and livid rime
and pyled off the trail, the entrails
of Miss Muse, a crime

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers real, you should be learning.)

scene so horrific, marked by star,
the five points of nether heaven.
The trod of twenty feet, bizarre,
sixty-eight empty shoes, eleven

barefoot with a hundred lame excuses
of who, what, where; alibis
of how they could not murder muses.

After all the truth is lies

And four sadly equals seven.

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers reel, you should be learning.)

Gina, Count to here, is an instruction

That's what makes poetry perfect--the imperfection of interpretation.

(Good grief, did I just say that?)

GOOD GRIEF!
WELL SAID!

Or quoting Dr. J
Prose is a piece created in 90% by
the author, and in 10% by the reader;


A poem is a piece created in 50% by
the author, and in 50% by the reader.

 

[WickedEve]

Where are my italics? Eve? italics please.
Bad enough you sat on it for months.....

I see that Lauren took care of it.
Months? Really? How evil of me.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

Where are my italics? Eve? italics please.
Bad enough you sat on it for months.....

I see that Lauren took care of it.
Months? Really? How evil of me.

Really! Either not enough

or was it, the satire too biting?
tsk, tsk

 

[cherries_on_snow]

The overall meaning I take from this is a feeling of anger at Literotica scoring being gamed and the site itself being mispurposed. Basically, as Rainman has pointed out, the scoring is not important. Because it can be gamed it will be gamed. This poem seems to say that people can vote more than once in dummy accounts perhaps (empty shoes).

I believe this is all true, and that the poet has a right to point it out. I also believe that this act alone does not murder muses. The spirit behind the act (playing favorites) does, however, discourage growth. Playing favorites is a game that grows egos and not poets.

I read this poem to be a ballad with a refrain that seemed very solid in syllable count. As Gina pointed out, some of the stanzas had uneven lines. I'd figured this was because the specifics of 'proof' were more important to the poet than making a poem. I think that the decision has to be made about whether this is a poem or a statement by the prosecution or both. Shelley could do both, but well, he was a genius. If the meter were tuned up a bit on this, it might do both as well, but the scale will always be smaller because of the subject matter and references.

 

[flyguy69]

Sgt. Carter's birthdate? Two ducks kissing?

I think I need a decoder ring. Maybe if I send in 1201 boxtops ...

 

[Tzara]

I like this poem. It suffers from a willful obscurantism, but even that is kind of fun. Plus I like the jokes. So here's my 50%:

I had to look up the word gematria—not being a student of the Kabbalah (Qabbalah?) I had no idea what it meant. I did know about numerological interpretation of texts, particularly of sacred texts, but don't remember hearing that term before. I am assuming here that the reference is not to classical Hebrew or Greek gematria, but rather to Aleister Crowley's "Enochean" (which I assume means "English alphabet" or implies English letters) version of the same. This would fit better with the imagery of witchcraft or magick (using Crowley's spelling) that shows up later on.

I also had to look up Nehi. At first, I had this confused with the Mormon prophet Nephi, which got me really off-track. I don't remember ever seeing Nehi soda as I was growing up, though I do know about Royal Crown Cola, which is from the same company. Perhaps this is a regional product and reference?

The single biggest problem with the poem is the number references, which certainly look like they are supposed to be significant. The problem with that is that I don't see any way to back into the original words from just the numbers. Part of the practice of gematria is about finding equivalences between words based on their numerological similarities (for example, a Christian working with a Biblical text in Greek might try to find an equivalence between the name "Jesus" and a word like "divine"). So a particular number doesn't map back to a particular word—it maps to many words, particularly when some of the reductive operations associated with gematria are applied. On top of that, there are several different "mappings" for the alphabet, even for just the English alphabet (Crowley had one, the Order of the Golden Dawn another, etc.). So trying to move backwards to determine "did [MNS] get the numbers right?" doesn't seem possible to me. Which seems to mess up one of the more interesting things about the poem.

It doesn't obscure "what the poem is about", though, which I think is pretty clear in any case—MNS's usual theme of unthinking populist verse (and versifiers) mucking about with the entrails of the True Muse of Poetry and congratulating themselves when they should be (in the author's opinion) trying to learn something about how actually to write poetry. Not a sentiment I disagree with, but one I think has been discussed often enough as to have lost most of its topicality.

What I did like, as I said earlier, is that the poem is funny. I'm particularly fond of "off" words and puns, so I find things like "demotic rite" funny. Plus I really like how the poem sounds. The lines that vary the metricality of the poem work well to my ear.

I'll even make a guess about the "And four sadly equals seven" line. If I use the Hebrew alphabet mapping for gematria with English, the word "bad" is 7 (2+1+4). I'm assuming the 4 is either some other word that MNS wants to equate or perhaps the statement that if one rates a poem a 4 instead of a 5 that that is somehow "trolling" the poem, bringing down the score. Which, of course, it is nothing of the kind.

Punctuation: Some lines (e.g., in S2) begin with capitals, though they are continuations of a sentence. Capitalization is not consistent throughout the poem.

Now I'm curious about the author's 50%.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

Sgt. Carter's birthdate? Two ducks kissing?

I think I need a decoder ring. Maybe if I send in 1201 boxtops ...

Run out of fingers Fly?
Here's one.
What the hell is that? Texas police code for get the hell out of the way, monster poet coming through? <grinz
I think I checked, even adding together as pennies I came up with $11.17.
Enough for you to buy a calculator.
Here's a quarter....send a dollar to the Flyguy69 calculator fund.

You know you could always apply some of your workshop wisdom and tear it apart, instead of being a smart ass. You have equal amounts of both qualities

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

... but the scale will always be smaller because of the subject matter and references.

I defer any comments for now, except I agree with this.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

I like this poem. It suffers from a willful obscurantism, but even that is kind of fun. Plus I like the jokes. So here's my 50%:

I had to look up the word gematria—not being a student of the Kabbalah (Qabbalah?) I had no idea what it meant. I did know about numerological interpretation of texts, particularly of sacred texts, but don't remember hearing that term before. I am assuming here that the reference is not to classical Hebrew or Greek gematria, but rather to Aleister Crowley's "Enochean" (which I assume means "English alphabet" or implies English letters) version of the same. This would fit better with the imagery of witchcraft or magick (using Crowley's spelling) that shows up later on.

I also had to look up Nehi. At first, I had this confused with the Mormon prophet Nephi, which got me really off-track. I don't remember ever seeing Nehi soda as I was growing up, though I do know about Royal Crown Cola, which is from the same company. Perhaps this is a regional product and reference?

The single biggest problem with the poem is the number references, which certainly look like they are supposed to be significant. The problem with that is that I don't see any way to back into the original words from just the numbers. Part of the practice of gematria is about finding equivalences between words based on their numerological similarities (for example, a Christian working with a Biblical text in Greek might try to find an equivalence between the name "Jesus" and a word like "divine"). So a particular number doesn't map back to a particular word—it maps to many words, particularly when some of the reductive operations associated with gematria are applied. On top of that, there are several different "mappings" for the alphabet, even for just the English alphabet (Crowley had one, the Order of the Golden Dawn another, etc.). So trying to move backwards to determine "did [MNS] get the numbers right?" doesn't seem possible to me. Which seems to mess up one of the more interesting things about the poem.

It doesn't obscure "what the poem is about", though, which I think is pretty clear in any case—MNS's usual theme of unthinking populist verse (and versifiers) mucking about with the entrails of the True Muse of Poetry and congratulating themselves when they should be (in the author's opinion) trying to learn something about how actually to write poetry. Not a sentiment I disagree with, but one I think has been discussed often enough as to have lost most of its topicality.

What I did like, as I said earlier, is that the poem is funny. I'm particularly fond of "off" words and puns, so I find things like "demotic rite" funny. Plus I really like how the poem sounds. The lines that vary the metricality of the poem work well to my ear.

I'll even make a guess about the "And four sadly equals seven" line. If I use the Hebrew alphabet mapping for gematria with English, the word "bad" is 7 (2+1+4). I'm assuming the 4 is either some other word that MNS wants to equate or perhaps the statement that if one rates a poem a 4 instead of a 5 that that is somehow "trolling" the poem, bringing down the score. Which, of course, it is nothing of the kind.

Punctuation: Some lines (e.g., in S2) begin with capitals, though they are continuations of a sentence. Capitalization is not consistent throughout the poem.

Now I'm curious about the author's 50%.

<blush, you caught "demotic rite"

now if we can get Tzara to google "Little Debbie"
for now all I'll say was I had fun, a hee-haw lovecraft

 

[TheRainMan]

Snail,

though there are giggles along the path, and you obviously had a good time with it, the poem in no way works for me, as a reader.

it has nothing of what i look for in a good poem. thematically, i find it uninteresting, off-beat in theme to the point of 'why even speak of this, who does it matter to?'

structurally, i think it is built on too many things that have nothing to do with a centralized message. it feels like a spilled jigsaw that needs to be pieced together, giving it an aroma of artificiality, of gimcrack.

metrically -- most often i find meter unimportant, or the kind of meter that you try to achieve here. it's just not my thing. i look more for a natural rhythm, one built not on formula but on a complex inner music, a writer's own, personal jazz. i don't find it here, though i don't think you failed in the big way you did thematically.

i find the piece in no way evocative -- if seems like it was built by a language-based version of Ernő Rubik, both to satisfy his own inventive nature and to amuse himself.

and therein, i think, is the major problem with it.

it speaks not to the reader, but only of the gamesmanship of the writer. no matter how clever the writer is, and you are indeed very clever, the reader has to be considered. and if you are trying to speak to the universal reader, not a certain person, that too must be taken into account.

i don't think puzzles of this nature work in poetry. to me, anything that makes a reader stop to look something up, or figure something out, detracts from the quality of communication, never mind risking the possibility that the stopped reader will never return to finish.

i can feel that the author had fun, and much work was put in to its fine tuning, but those things are not what makes a poem work, for me. i need a poem that evokes some emotion, or touches a universal human occurance in a fresh way, or punches me in the mouth, or cuts off my toes and feeds them to my mother.

i think it would be pointless for me to dissect lines, since there is no wholeness here that i find satisfying.

peace,

patrick

 

[flyguy69]

Run out of fingers Fly?
Here's one.
What the hell is that? Texas police code for get the hell out of the way, monster poet coming through? <grinz
I think I checked, even adding together as pennies I came up with $11.17.
Enough for you to buy a calculator.
Here's a quarter....send a dollar to the Flyguy69 calculator fund.

You know you could always apply some of your workshop wisdom and tear it apart, instead of being a smart ass. You have equal amounts of both qualities

You conclude your poem by asking...

Most important, did I get the rhymes right?? and the numbers?
Does it have too many adverbs? adjectives? Is it too diluted?

and I'm the smart ass?

Be consistent, MNS, if you want serious critique be serious.

But as long as I'm here: this poem's biggest failing is not metrical or thematic, it is the fact that the poem dares readers to like it. It wags its finger (no, not the one you offered me) in readers' faces and accuses them of ducking responsibilities, then goes on to suggest they are stupid.

How many readers enjoy that?

Do you?

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

You conclude your poem by asking...

and I'm the smart ass?

Be consistent, MNS, if you want serious critique be serious.

But as long as I'm here: this poem's biggest failing is not metrical or thematic, it is the fact that the poem dares readers to like it. It wags its finger (no, not the one you offered me) in readers' faces and accuses them of ducking responsibilities, then goes on to suggest they are stupid.

How many readers enjoy that?

Do you?

So we are both smart asses - and I admit I can be very "in your face" this second part:

In the poem, not the conclusion. Where, how so?
Here, I will thank being serious.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

Snail,

though there are giggles along the path, and you obviously had a good time with it, the poem in no way works for me, as a reader.

it has nothing of what i look for in a good poem. thematically, i find it uninteresting, off-beat in theme to the point of 'why even speak of this, who does it matter to?'

structurally, i think it is built on too many things that have nothing to do with a centralized message. it feels like a spilled jigsaw that needs to be pieced together, giving it an aroma of artificiality, of gimcrack.

metrically -- most often i find meter unimportant, or the kind of meter that you try to achieve here. it's just not my thing. i look more for a natural rhythm, one built not on formula but on a complex inner music, a writer's own, personal jazz. i don't find it here, though i don't think you failed in the big way you did thematically.

i find the piece in no way evocative -- if seems like it was built by a language-based version of Ernő Rubik, both to satisfy his own inventive nature and to amuse himself.

and therein, i think, is the major problem with it.

it speaks not to the reader, but only of the gamesmanship of the writer. no matter how clever the writer is, and you are indeed very clever, the reader has to be considered. and if you are trying to speak to the universal reader, not a certain person, that too must be taken into account.

i don't think puzzles of this nature work in poetry. to me, anything that makes a reader stop to look something up, or figure something out, detracts from the quality of communication, never mind risking the possibility that the stopped reader will never return to finish.

i can feel that the author had fun, and much work was put in to its fine tuning, but those things are not what makes a poem work, for me. i need a poem that evokes some emotion, or touches a universal human occurance in a fresh way, or punches me in the mouth, or cuts off my toes and feeds them to my mother.

i think it would be pointless for me to dissect lines, since there is no wholeness here that i find satisfying.

peace,

patrick

Overall, an excellent critique. It is not "universal". Wasn't meant to be.
I did not spend much time on it (one day) and I had much fun with the numbers. Fitting the numbers. The numbers themselves had an aroma of artificiality, rather a more a stench.
That was the structure, that was the communication. I understand your non-reaction to it. It wasn't meant to cut off your toes.

"i don't think puzzles of this nature work in poetry. to me, anything that makes a reader stop to look something up, or figure something out, detracts from the quality of communication, never mind risking the possibility that the stopped reader will never return to finish."

This point we can argue, another time, another place, perhaps. Saying only "if I wanted to commincate, I'll write a letter" Quote, but I can't remember from whom, in regards to poetry. And looking something up and figuring something out was the "message" I wanted to convey.

peace to you also, and thank you for the time
MNS

 

[TheRainMan]

. . . Saying only "if I wanted to commincate, I'll write a letter" Quote, but I can't remember from whom, in regards to poetry . . .

MNS

i've heard that.

the logic seems flawed, unless one accepts poetry as masturbation.

 

[Tzara]

Saying only "if I wanted to commincate, I'll write a letter" Quote, but I can't remember from whom, in regards to poetry.

i've heard that.

the logic seems flawed, unless one accepts poetry as masturbation.

The quote referred to is probably this one, by Richard Hugo: If you want to communicate, use the telephone.

What Hugo is trying to say, I think, is something similar to this statement from Ludwig Wittgenstein: Do not forget that a poem, although it is composed in the language of information, is not used in the language-game of giving information.

In context, Hugo contrasts writing poems with writing newspaper articles, in which the intent is to convey information. He remarks that who writes a newspaper article is unimportant, it is what is said that is important. Or, as he puts it, [o]nce you have the information, the words seem unimportant. By contrast, how something is said is what is important in a poem.

I don't think any of us disagree as to what MNS's poem says—what its information content is. Maybe a little. The dissatisfaction is in how it is said. Either that the style is too offputting, because it insults its audience or because it is too hermetic, not that the theme is hackneyed.

As I said earlier, I like it because I thought it was rather funny, and I liked rooting around and learning something about gematria. The theme is not very interesting. Overall, I would be more interested in MNS expending his energy to write about something else, but we all ultimately write about what we ourselves are interested in (or obsessed with). Those concerns make for a greater or lesser audience, perhaps, but if you let the audience determine what and how you write, you run the danger of producing banal work.

Which is what his poem is about, I think.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Those concerns make for a greater or lesser audience, perhaps, but if you let the audience determine what and how you write, you run the danger of producing banal work.

Which is what his poem is about, I think.

A poem can be a perfect striving while still having only an ideal readership of 3 people. A poem that is accessible by thousands isn't necessarily banal. Artists tend to think about how the audience will receive the work, in my experience. If one is entirely unmindful of audience one may be making poetry of self-congratulation or flagellation, whatever the case may be, not that this is the place for this discussion, necessarily. I'd be happy to take it up in PM if you are so inclined, Tzara, but I'd bet money that you won't be.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

Sgt. Carter's birthdate? Two ducks kissing?

I think I need a decoder ring. Maybe if I send in 1201 boxtops ...

I was told of the referent to this, pls except finger retraction, and replace with thumbs up.
I may use it in the rewrite.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

In context, Hugo contrasts writing poems with writing newspaper articles, in which the intent is to convey information. He remarks that who writes a newspaper article is unimportant, it is what is said that is important. Or, as he puts it, [o]nce you have the information, the words seem unimportant. By contrast, how something is said is what is important in a poem.

How, it is said, is important. I regret not developing the rhyme scheme further.
From Wikipedia
it employes enough:
tail rhyme (or end): a rhyme in the final syllable(s) of a verse (the most common kind)
I regret not using a more thought out varition between some of the following:
masculine: a rhyme in which the stress is on the final syllable of the words. (rhyme, sublime, crime)
feminine: a rhyme in which the stress is on the penultimate (second from last) syllable of the words. (picky, tricky, sticky)
dactylic: a rhyme in which the stress is on the antepenultimate (third from last) syllable (hesitant, president)
triple: a rhyme in which all three syllables of a three-syllable word are stressed equally.
perfect: a rhyme between words that are identical in sound from the point of their first accented syllable forward. (sight and flight, deign and gain and quatrain, madness and sadness)
imperfect: a rhyme between a stressed and an unstressed syllable. (den, siren)
identity: a rhyme that starts at a consonant instead of a vowel, or rhyming a word with itself. (gun, begun)
semirhyme: a rhyme with an extra syllable on one word. (bend, ending)
oblique (or slant): a rhyme with an imperfect match in sound. (green, fiend)
sight (or eye): a similarity in spelling but not in sound. (cough, bough, or love, move)

I have been told it may need some visual and verbal clues as to what is going on. The numbers are a simple addition, the code elsewhere leading back to what is really a fraudulent title.

Sorry, Rainman if you think I am jerking off, that may be part of the message, I'll work on it.

It is said as if living under an occupation, TY.

 

[sohosoul]

?What?

I found this a little too dense in its use of references to both obscure and unrecognizable ideas. I may be new to this forum, but still, if a poem is to be widely accepted there must needs be a common frame of reference for the reader and the writer to begin from. How must I, a novice to LIT, reconcile my knowledge of the world at large with this one so much more insular environment. The rhythm and tempo of the words are pleasant to the ear when read aloud, and strictly speaking the sound of the words themselves have a nice flow.

 

[twelveoone]

Hello Anton,
When I first saw this, I thought the idea was to take the one tool they have some understanding of and jam it to them. Align right.You need visual clues here.
You forgot the Rule of Threes
"I count eight, maybe nine" (+1)should be moved forward
"And four sadly equals seven."(+3) is fine where it is
Where is the middle line, the (+2) to give it a progression of oddness. Also all possible numbers should be odd. The named large numbers (400, 100) should refer to something, otherwise they look like they where thrown in.

Gematria
by MyNecroticSnail

Thirty-four flames on the moon pie
dimly do they shine.
Champagne, noo! Paper cups - Nehi
I count eight, maybe nine.

A coven in the moon pie night,
A celebration of poetry dying,
A scene of some demotic rite,
of writing without even trying.

The nabors heard 400 wails
of pallid verse and livid rime
and pyled off the trail, the entrails
of Miss Muse, a crime

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers real, you should be learning.)

scene so horrific, marked by star,
the five points of nether heaven.
The trod of twenty feet, bizarre,
sixty-eight empty shoes, eleven

barefoot with a hundred lame excuses
of who, what, where; alibis
of how they could not murder muses.

After all the truth is lies

And four sadly equals seven​

.

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers reel, you should be learning.)​

I like this reel, real change in the chorus changing the meaning.

If this is what I think it is - do it. Give the audience the clues, more imagery. Nehi may have some play in it. I am a little surprised TRM, being from NY I think, didn't catch it. Maybe he is just too honest.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

I found this a little too dense in its use of references to both obscure and unrecognizable ideas. I may be new to this forum, but still, if a poem is to be widely accepted there must needs be a common frame of reference for the reader and the writer to begin from. How must I, a novice to LIT, reconcile my knowledge of the world at large with this one so much more insular environment. The rhythm and tempo of the words are pleasant to the ear when read aloud, and strictly speaking the sound of the words themselves have a nice flow.

Thank you.
It is my sincere hope that you will never get it. I never have to finish it. It is a shell game, the code is in the tool used.

Gematria​

`When _I_ use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean--neither more nor less.' Lewis Carrol Through the Looking-Glass
Inspector

Thirty-four flames on the moon pie
dimly do they shine.
Champagne, noo! Paper cups - Nehi
I count eight, maybe nine.

A coven in the moon pie night,
A celebration of poetry dying,
A scene of some demotic rite,
of writing without even trying.

The nabors heard 400 wails
of pallid verse and livid rime
and pyled off the trail, the entrails
of Miss Muse, a crime​

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers reel, you should be learning.)
​

scene so horrific, marked by star,
the five points of nether heaven.
The trod of twenty feet, bizarre,
sixty-eight empty shoes, eleven

barefoot with a hundred lame excuses
of who, what, where; alibis
of how they could not murder muses.

After all the truth is lies​

Four fingers on my hand, not if Ceasar says seven!
.

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers real you should be learning.)

and Ray and John walked on to the dawn
away from the worship of ashes​

How's that format, twelveoone?, I'll work on the words, numbers.

Kids, probably the only time you'll see it in your life, much better than an acroustic.

 

[neonflux]

I like this poem very much...

I found this a little too dense in its use of references to both obscure and unrecognizable ideas. I may be new to this forum, but still, if a poem is to be widely accepted there must needs be a common frame of reference for the reader and the writer to begin from. How must I, a novice to LIT, reconcile my knowledge of the world at large with this one so much more insular environment. The rhythm and tempo of the words are pleasant to the ear when read aloud, and strictly speaking the sound of the words themselves have a nice flow.

I'm not sure that I agree that all poems must be so transparent and easily read. I always enjoy looking up new references - expands my own knowledge and engages me in a poet's work. For me, good literature should be challenging.

WickedEve,

There is a wonderful sense of play and fun which I find engaging and a very "tongue-in-cheek" feel in your use of language. Others have spoken about rhythm, word choices, etc. and I won't repeat what they've said here. There is one line that I found jarring and a little pretentious considering the overall tone of the poem:

First stanza, line 2:

"Dimly do they shine." I recognize that you are working the rhythms and rhyme here, but it didn't work for me as it seemed so labored while the rest of the poem seems so "effortless." (I realize, of course, that it it not.) I am not sure how to fix this. My first suggestion doesn't mirror the rhythm of the second two lines of the poem (and I am not presuming to rewrite your work at all) - but perhaps it will spark some thinking if you feel that my comment has any validity:

Thirty-four flames
on the moon pie dimly shine.

Assume that you will take what you need and discard the rest.

Lines that I adored in bold:

Thirty-four flames on the moon pie
dimly do they shine.
Champagne, noo! Paper cups - Nehi
I count eight, maybe nine.

A coven in the moon pie night,
A celebration of poetry dying,
A scene of some demotic rite,
of writing without even trying.


The nabors heard 400 wails
of pallid verse and livid rime
and pyled off the trail, the entrails
of Miss Muse, a crime

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers reel, you should be learning.)
scene so horrific, marked by star,
the five points of nether heaven.
The trod of twenty feet, bizarre,
sixty-eight empty shoes, eleven

barefoot with a hundred lame excuses
of who, what, where; alibis
of how they could not murder muses.

After all the truth is lies

Four fingers on my hand, not if Ceasar says seven!

(Count to here, do you smell the burning
of numbers undergoing fucking?
Really now, no fucking ducking!
The numbers real you should be learning.)

and Ray and John walked on to the dawn
away from the worship of ashes

Thank you again!
Neon

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

I'm not sure that I agree that all poems must be so transparent and easily read. I always enjoy looking up new references - expands my own knowledge and engages me in a poet's work. For me, good literature should be challenging. Neon

Place needs more people like you, although I thought it was as transparent as glass ~but then, I wrote it.

"Dimly do they shine." I recognize that you are working the rhythms and rhyme here, but it didn't work for me as it seemed so labored while the rest of the poem seems so "effortless." (I realize, of course, that it it not.) I am not sure how to fix this. My first suggestion doesn't mirror the rhythm of the second two lines of the poem (and I am not presuming to rewrite your work at all) - but perhaps it will spark some thinking if you feel that my comment has any validity:


Neon

Your comments have great validity. This is a good catch, and an excellent statement. And you may presume that if I rewrite it, I will consider this and all comments given.
Thank you.
This place needs more like you!