Critique Thread

[Anonymous No.16168092]

You know the drill.

[Anonymous No.16168108]

>>16168092

A can of cantaloupe,
a Northeastern draft tickling the curtains
made of velvet sourced by a blind pianist,
and the memory of having lost a pearl—
the lonesome club promoter's keepsakes
which he kept at his grandparents house
who no longer wait for the big sleep;
no election can erase the blackboard
in the atrium crowded with finger-holding financiers
who still need decide the fate of the unspoken;
carrier pigeons fall from the methane sky
carrying wounded apologies to their kin,
the Pacific ocean shan't abet
any artery ruptured by coronal spasms,
the tinkering and the shimmering,
it's the last time weight smears
all the species of will
and emissaries of powerlessness—
the can opener saves the seal
from holding in dried innards,
the viscera of accountability,
the meat from the withheld luminary
of constant refuse.

[Anonymous No.16168149]

>my writing is just a bunch of melancholic pseudo-philosophical-psychological thoughts that I'm having all the time bundled up to depict a "literally me" character, with some loose mystery plot on top of it about going insane and talking to a hallucination demon

Umm, opinions?

[Anonymous No.16168166]

Ainmosi

I rise
Bled white
I live
With nothing to replenish
I die
Everyday

[Anonymous No.16168180]

>>16168108
>A can of cantaloupe
>and the memory of having lost a pearl
My favorite lines

[Anonymous No.16168184]

>>16168092
peepeepoopoodoodooweewee

[Anonymous No.16168211]

>>16168092
A peculiar thing happened out at Jessup's Dairy last week. You know that old field out next to the milking area? Well I don't know how to explain it but the pebbles on the ground grew into rocks, and then the rocks grew into statues that resembled the likes of men, and one of the statues grew into a temple. And on the door of that temple was an engraved image of a man with a hundred eyes all over his head. The inside contains a large granite altar. The ceiling is covered with finely detailed engravings of shrubbery. A beautiful stone garden, hanging upside down. And on the wall behind the altar was a message that read: "No human influence can save you now. You've got to sacrifice all your dairy cows." Old man Jessup wasn't very happy about that. And to make matters worse, the cows broke the gate open over at the pasture, and formed a line leading up to the steps of the temple. Well we decided to sacrifice one cow just to see what would happen. We took half a cord of firewood, threw it on the altar, took one of the older cows and used a forklift to get her up on top. Then old man Jessup took his blowtorch and lit the wood on fire. We stood outside and watched as a thick purple smoke issued out the door. Inside the smoke there were thousands of diamonds floating upwards. And as they bounced against each other, they made the sound of tinkling bells. The cows were back out in the pasture. I've never seen those cows happier in all my life. And as the sun set, a new statue grew up from the ground, and it bore the likeness of old man Jessup's face chiseled onto it. I was determined that tomorrow I would be the man holding the blowtorch and I would sacrifice the next sacred cow, so the next morning I set up more wood and put my own cow Betsy on top, my own cow. I lit the torch, a cloud of pure white smoke drifted out of the temple, and inside the smoke there appeared to be a spiring–spiraling carousel of the moving faces of everybody throughout history floating upwards towards heaven. After the fire burned out, the smoke drifted out of sight, another statue emerged out of the ground. This one bore the likeness of old Betsy with a grin on her face. Then, just to rub it in I guess, old man Jessup turns to me and said "It looks just like her, don't it?" I guess Jessup made his sacrifice by having his name mentioned in account of this story. Now folks around here are gonna be pestering him forever wanting to see his new statues. And you can call me Old Betsy, because now you know what kind of dreams we cows have

[Anonymous No.16168227]

>>16168211
Amazing from head to toe.

[Anonymous No.16168303]

>>16168149
Great parody of the thread.

[Anonymous No.16168455]

Saved by the bellend,
mum's the word, a buttdial from beyond
the snotgreen pastures
and over the hill, the ones with eyes—
no square dance can fill the hole
left in the hearts inhabiting the hamlet
that the Peter Piper hails from
(he goes by Lincoln now)—
and so on the 4th of December
the sleet turns to salt
and all footsteps dissolve into the crowded past,
no delirious rabble-rouser can foment the ire
necessary for the recognition of sacrilegious celebration
of the honor assassinated over and under the river
that democratic voters decided snakes infinitely
into enlightened obliviousness; houndstooth
jackets and pocket watches right thrice a day,
just a little fast, the minesweeping hands
direct traffic to pile-up like undone chores
left here for us on this paltry earth
by the custodians cosmic, wrathful in their innocence,
the tempestuary, a tipple of the hat,
the great Gertrude lashing out
at those artists with no lick of luck
but bankfulls of talent nobody cares about
(not you, nor you).

[Anonymous No.16168543]

>>16168092
back to /d/ with suchlike mental illness!

[Anonymous No.16169777]

bump

[Anonymous No.16170642]

>>16168092
What’s this from?

[Anonymous No.16171340]

>>16168166
great job, anon. i love you - keep it up!

[Anonymous No.16171394]

>>16168166
Thank you ainmosi
Thank you my dear
But when a soul dies
One must appear

[Anonymous No.16171435]

>>16168211
Good story but I think you got lost in the prose. Doesn't flow well, needs more connections less dots.
>>16168149
Philosophical masturbating is good and well, but why should the audience read it? If I wanted to masturbate the mind id go to a yeshiva.

[Anonymous No.16171494]

>>16168092
One is the world
Two is creation
Three, steps
Four? Four.

But,
I may wonder..

If seven men could have a baby
With twenty five wives.

[Anonymous No.16171567]

Absolutely wreck my shit so I can improve faster.

He finally lifted it and faced Alecain, attempting to peer through it and asked, “And you? How many did you pierce with thes-” He interrupted himself when the crystal snapped as he fiddled with it between his thumb and forefinger. “-crystals?”

Alecaine tried to muster a bit of his composure and felt his face lose color. He’d never seen a sword, let alone a man who wore one on his side, he tried to avoid looking at his face and began stuttering, “Well uh… I’ve never hurt anyone, I sorta just learned how to do this a few weeks ago and-” he finally looked up at the man’s face and was greeted with the face of a stranger with a kind smile and an innocent curious look in his eyes, “I’ve never hurt anyone with it. Sorry, I don’t know what an Eldritch is, if you’re looking for my grandpa, I could go get him if you want.”

Upon hearing this the man’s eyes widened for a moment and he placed his hand on his hilt, dropping the crystal and causing Alecaine’s shoulders to twitch together in fear. After an awkward moment he finally said, “Well, my name is Horatio, I’ll be seeing you around I’m sure,” And he lifted his hand and gave a quick wave as he quickly stepped out of sight.

[Anonymous No.16171652]

>>16171340
>>16171394

I just checked this thread to post something else and didn‘t think i would have gotten any (you)‘s.
You just made my day anons.

[Anonymous No.16171686]

>>16171494
This flows very nicely and gives you something to think. I quiet like it.


>>16171567
> looked up at the man’s face and was greeted with the face of a stranger with a kind smile and an innocent curious look in his eyes
You could get rid of „the man‘s face“ and only go with him looking up to the man. The word face stood out to me as overused when i read through it.
I enjoyed the part with the crystals, you can instantly see him roll them between his fingers.
You also made both characters sound interesting enough to want to know more about them.

[Anonymous No.16171707]

I need to know if i am on to something with this or if it is utter crap.
Please don‘t be gentle with me.

If i had to describe my father to someone who doesn‘t know him, it would be hard to make him sounds like a pleasant person. People do not like him and not without reason. He doesn‘t like people either and he would never admit, even to himself, that it gets lonely that way.
„They do not like people that think and feel,“ he would say. And i would agree but i wouldn‘t let him get away with it.
„Yes, i know. And i do not have to tell you that you shouldn‘t stop thinking or feeling because of them. But i do have to tell you that you don‘t have to hate them for it. They do not hate those things because they are evil, they hate them because they were denied to them too.“
„You are too kind. Some people are just assholes and there‘s no need to feel sorry for them or justify them being assholes.“
I said nothing because we have been trough this exact conversation too many times already. He is stubborn in his conviction that humans are divided into people worth considering and people worth killing. Or at least being rude to.

I especially need to know how i could make this feel less preachy or at least more touchable. I‘m grateful for any critique.

[Anonymous No.16171750]

It has been written that reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope and so, dear reader, I hope you will reserve yours until I tell you the whole story. It shouldn’t take very long and my ESL vocabulary isn’t very wide so it won’t be too difficult either. If you’re American feel free to keep one eye on your Nabisco products and Mountain Dew. If you’re European go ahead and eat whatever it is you eat; how should I know? Something soft I hope, knives being so very hard to come by (in England at least). Perhaps your Syrian maid will make you something out of government cheese when she’s not bringing your children to the mat like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson in the WWF attitude era. Or is it rugs they pray on? It doesn’t matter- I digress.

[Anonymous No.16171765]

Faith

Out beyond the edge of reason
Lies a break between what we see
And the lure of logic's treason;
The divide is eternity.
Creeping doubt bemuses the mind
Of both believer and skeptic,
Neither sure of what they find
Wandering the dialectic.
Reality's discrepancy
Is a recent fascination;
Those before kept their deities
Close, they lived in dedication
Through story, song and sacrifice;
The animals, their pantheon --
The rolling land, their paradise.
Each day, the golden rays of dawn
Illuminate salvation to
People whose man-made gods are gone.

[Anonymous No.16171769]

>>16171750
I like the suspense and blatant ignorance. I can tell this will be a good story and an annoying character that isn‘t unrelatable.

[Anonymous No.16171779]

>>16171707
It doesn't sound too preachy to me. The dialogue is nice, the opening paragraph, however, is boring.

[Anonymous No.16171786]

>>16171779
Thanks for the feedback. Any prompts on how i could make it less boring?

[Anonymous No.16171794]

>>16171765
>Creeping doubt bemuses the mind
>Of both believer and skeptic,
>Neither sure of what they find
>Wandering the dialectic.

Noice

[Anonymous No.16171800]

>>16168455
I'm having a difficult time understanding what you've written, and "the snotgreen pastures" doesn't really fit with the tone of the rest of what you've written.

[Anonymous No.16171817]

>>16171786
Honestly, nothing specific. To me, the dialogue feels bold. It needs an introduction and setting that matches it. I think redoing the first line would go a long way.

[Anonymous No.16171823]

>>16171786
Add a vampire; usually does the trick

[Anonymous No.16171836]

>>16171765
There‘s some good rhymes there. I especially like reason and treason.
The topic is nice too, Although very hard to not make it feel overused, which promptly happens the more it progresses.
It reaches it‘s climax with the golden rays of dawn. That ones is too far gone for my liking. But you manage to reel it in again with the man-made gods. Overall it‘s good.
Reading it out loud, i stumble upon the lines
>lies a break between what i see
And
>creeping doubt bemuses the mind
Something about their length snd structure feels like it interrupts the flow.
>lies a break between the (i can not come up with the right word but it needs a the and a short word to sound right in my ears)
>creeping doubt bemuses me
Or simply
>creeping doubt bemuses
>both sceptic and believer (somehow switching them feels more natural)

[Anonymous No.16171857]

>>16171817
>„They do not like people that think and feel,“ he would say. And i would agree but i wouldn‘t let him get away with it.
>„Yes, i know. And i do not have to tell you that you shouldn‘t stop thinking or feeling because of them. But i do have to tell you that you don‘t have to hate them for it. They do not hate those things because they are evil, they hate them because they were denied to them too.“
>„You are too kind. Some people are just assholes and there‘s no need to feel sorry for them or justify them being assholes.“
>I said nothing because we have been trough this exact conversation too many times already. He is stubborn in his conviction that humans are divided into people worth considering and people worth killing. Or at least being rude to.
>If i had to describe my father to someone who doesn‘t know him, it would be hard to make him sounds like a pleasant person. People do not like him and not without reason. He doesn‘t like people either and he would never admit, even to himself, that it gets lonely that way.

Would it make it better to switch those out or is the first part just boring no matter where it stands? Could i cut something out to make it shorter and more poignant?

[Anonymous No.16171894]

>>16171857
Actually, it works a lot better at the end. Starting with the dialogue throws you right into it and that paragraph eases you out

[Anonymous No.16171897]

>>16171894
Yeah that‘s what i hoped to achieve. Thanks a lot anon.

[Anonymous No.16171921]

>>16171567
Not the best choice of excerpt since there's obviously a fair bit of context missing. Beyond that:
>He finally lifted it and faced Alecain, attempting to peer through it and asked
Poor flow. There's a number of ways you could fix it, one example being
"He finally lifted it and faced Alecain. Attempting to peer through it, he asked"
>How many did you pierce with thes-
>-crystals?
Don't know if it's typo or not, but you should finish the word "these" before cutting him off. Just removing the final "e" doesn't convey anything different about how he says the word..
>He interrupted himself when the crystal snapped as he fiddled with it between his thumb and forefinger.
Too long winded and shifts in subject without apparent reason (he Xed when it Yed as he Zed). You also don't need to mention that it interrupts him, since that's already obvious from how you're cutting him off to mention the snap. I would write something like
"a sharp crack made him look down to find his careless fiddling had snapped the crystal in half"
>Alecaine tried to muster a bit of his composure and felt his face lose color
"A bit of composure", not "of his composure.
"And" doesn't work here; use "but" instead, since the two events you're connecting are contrary to each other. Better yet, you could scrap one of the two and keep the other. Either just "Alecaine tried to muster a bit of composure" or just "Alecaine felt his face lose color" works better than having them both.
>he tried to avoid looking at his face and began stuttering
This should be a new sentence, not a continuation of the previous one.
>he finally looked up at the man’s face and was greeted with the face of a stranger with a kind smile and an innocent curious look in his eyes
No point in saying he was greeted with a face since you've jus mentioned he's looking up at the man's face, and no point in mentioning he's a stranger unless there was something that implied he might not have been, which there isn't here.
Also, choose either "innocent" or "curious" and scrap the other; having two sdjectives there spoils the flow.
I might rewrite it as
"He finally looked up to the man's face. He wore a kind smile and there was an innocent look to his eyes."
>causing Alecaine’s shoulders to twitch together in fear
I've never heard this expression used to convey fear. Use something more familiar, like "causing Alecaine to jump in fear" or "to tense up in fear".
>And he lifted his hand and gave a quick wave as he quickly stepped out of sight.
Remove the starting "And".

As for the dialogue, it reads awkwardly. I don't feel like it conveys the emotions of either character, and it's structured poorly. For instance,
>Well, my name is Horatio, I’ll be seeing you around I’m sure
should be two separate sentences.
"Well, my name is Horatio. I’ll be seeing you around, I’m sure"

Can't say much more without further context.

[Anonymous No.16172084]

>>16171686
>>16171921
Thank you fellas, it becomes too easy falling into the same patterns over and over again.

[Anonymous No.16172096]

>>16171921
Anyways, here's my stuff:

It was a bright, beautiful day in Carran. The soft rays of the autumn sun fell warmly on the little town. White, wispy clouds floated lazily through the blue sky. Birds sang, bugs chirped, and a gentle breeze stirred the forest’s drying foliage. It was the sort of day that might have inspired a dozen poems, had the town any poets to write them. The sort of day when you’d expect to see the streets full of people chatting, working, and playing; just going about their lives without a care in the world.

On this day, however, not a soul walked the streets. Not a whisper pierced the air. But for the occasional flash of eyes peering out from tighly-drawn curtains, one might assume the place was a deserted.

[Anonymous No.16172100]

>>16172096
https://seanald.ca/alexander-the-wanderer/

new chapter

[Anonymous No.16172113]

The Wendigo Spirit


I am always hungry, so I bite my fingers
I hate being around people, will to desolation lingers
I am always hungry, so I chew off some skin
In shadows and in deep forests, empty places no one has been
I am always hungry, so I bite the phalange
I smell my own body rotting, my bone and skin feel so strange
I am always hungry, so my eyes look very black
I eat and eat yet I hunger, cities harm me I must go back
I am always hungry, so I hunt for a taste
I see a human roaming here, i did perform the great disgrace
I am always hungry, so I am never full
Heart, Tongue, brain, entrails, eyes, fingers, though I have had many mouthfuls
I am always hungry, so my body is grey
Birch, white ash, owls, rocks, black void, only they can hear what I say
I am always hungry, so I eat my own lips
I am hunger, hunger, hunger, from my hunger I am eclipsed
I am always hungry, so i will always go
There is nothing left I am gone, for I have become wendigo
I am always hungry, hungry hungry hungry
Hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry

[Anonymous No.16172125]

>>16171567
Also, you used "quick" twice in the same sentence.
>And he lifted his hand and gave a quick wave as he quickly stepped out of sight.

[Anonymous No.16172792]

I have posted crits above

[Anonymous No.16172974]

>>16168108
I must admit, after years of reading the most renouned poets of the world in several languages, I cannot for the life of me, have any connection to such poetry. am I missing the keys here? it's just a pretty mystical word salad to me.

[Anonymous No.16172989]

>>16171765
one of the best poems I have read in here. it does everything right. true, good, beautiful.

[Gustav Klimt No.16173251]

>>16168092
That image is fucking disgusting and vile. A woman with all her limbs amputated; it had to be a jap.

[Anonymous No.16173260]

His need to dominate in his endeavors was a sight to behold if one were able to accurately depict/demonstrate it.
Often the common culprit pulling strings behind most of his thoughts. This day was no different as his machete separates the briefest of connection with other life he has indulged in quite some time. It's been 7 months in the harsh dense jungle.
At times he would have thought there were limits to how much hatred, obsessed individuals, were capable of carrying.
The fabled tablet of Urica was worth it, he once again thought. It seems just that very notion could extinguish the truth that hurts him with every bone in his body. That truth that he has become a bitter and angry person through no fault of his own. An injustice by all rights he would have you believe at a moment's notice. And rather than seek out help as one would ordinarily do, he chose to revel in what he believed to be greatness in its absence.

It was still midday when he decided to take yet another water break. The sounds of vulture wings flapping above the overcast of giant leaves made him question whether a rotting carcass was near his side. There may as well had been. He is always in front of what haunts him but yet it seems to never escape him. The dichotomy of this caused him to shake his head and chuckle mid-thoughts.

Just as he was getting used to some much-needed laughter, a loud bang was heard. It had been almost as if a giant boulder had fallen off the side of a cliff.

Eagerly he spoke, "What was that?" He looked around convinced he could pinpoint the sound and locate a direction to set off to. He does just that, after a brief moment. At the sight of where the fallen wall of exotic stone sat were about 6 men in construction uniforms and 2 other men who seemed like their bosses. "Quick people! We need to cover this side entrance before we leave tonight. Let me make this clear, we do not want another incident like before," said one of the bosses
.
Hidden above all the commotion, somewhere indistinguishable, our hero takes off the satchel he had been carrying an assortment of items in, one of which was a pair of his trusted binoculars. His eyes didn't work as it once did but these never failed to help. Zooming in and taking a closer inspection he was right about each of his guesses as to who they were. However "what" they were doing and "why" were the questions that now perplexed him.

[Anonymous No.16174154]

>>16168092
https://pastebin.com/QRVuf05v
pretty short piece which still needs editing. Using paste bin so it cant be googled searched later on. My biggest question for anyone that reads it is whether it makes sense at all. Im trying to improve the clarity of my writing cheers.
>>16173260
>Often the common culprit pulling strings behind most of his thoughts
doesnt make sense
>that truth that
poor
overall it is very jarring to read. I get what your saying and ur efforts at depicting a grizzled veteran or anti hero of some kind though. >>16171750
pretty nice
>>16171707
no i wouldn't say it is preachy but perhaps use language to your advantage here. Also, realism is not the end and be all but do people ever talk like this?

[Anonymous No.16174419]

>>16172096
It's ok, but you need to put your hook in before the generic description. Saying a town is sunny and that the sky is blue isn't interesting enough to start a novel. I tried to rearrange things a bit:

>It was the sort of day that could inspire a dozen poems, had the town any poets to write them. Soft rays of autumn fell upon Carran and wispy clouds floated above. However, on this day not a soul walked the streets. Not a whisper pierced the air. It was deserted but for the flash of eyes peering through drawn curtains.

[Anonymous No.16174440]

>>16172096
It's ok, but you need to put your hook in before the generic description. Saying a town is sunny and that the sky is blue isn't interesting enough to start a novel. I tried to rearrange things a bit:

>It was the sort of day that could inspire a dozen poems, had the town any poets to write them. Soft rays of autumn and wispy clouds. However, on this day not a soul walked the streets. Not a whisper pierced the air. Carran was deserted but for the flash of eyes peering through tightly drawn curtains.

[Anonymous No.16174521]

>>16174440
It's for a short story, not a novel, but thanks.

[Anonymous No.16174605]

>>16173260
Your first sentence makes absolutely no sense.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16174773]

So why is degenerate porn acceptable now?

[Anonymous No.16174962]

>>16174605
I think it’s pretty obviously an excerpt

[Anonymous No.16175288]

>>16172100
Biggest problem by far is that your paragraphs lack a connecting idea. Your sentences hop around like crazy, each of them doing its own little thing instead of working together to form a coherent narrative.
Just in the first half of the first paragraph, you go from talking about how Alexander of Macedonia was the greatest warrior in Greek history, to talking about how he was jealous of achilles, to saying he was called "The Great", to saying that his death marked the beginning of the hellenistic period, to saying that he was influenced by Plato. It's too much, and almost all of it seems to be brought up for no reason other than to say something, anything at all, about Alexander.

[Anonymous No.16175448]

>>16171765
This is good.

[Anonymous No.16175982]

>>16171750
Pretty based

[Anonymous No.16176092]

>>16171765
I love the word choice, and the subject matter is handled well, even though as >>16171836 pointed out, it's been done a lot. I thing you should tighten up the syllable count of every line and the natural stresses of the words.

[Anonymous No.16176561]

[Anonymous No.16176653]

>>16168108
>carrier pigeons fall from the methane sky
>carrying wounded apologies to their kin
Very nice, my favorite lines, except the repetition of carrier/carrying would bug me, but that’s your choice. I hope you continue to write.

>>16168211
Wow that was vivid! The fantastic or strange elements were really well placed and gave me an odd pleasure reading about them, very good descriptions


Mine:
>I often find myself inexplicably struck by the poetics of found texts. I am drawn to things which were not quite meant for the world of literature (or perhaps it is only that they are things I have come across by accident, since a reader in this digital age often digests so much information abutting and introducing a text before they actually come to read the real text at all) or passages which have shone ebulliently beyond the reach of their original intentions. I am struck by the power of certain historical anecdotes, details of history books or entries in encyclopedias, of the definitions contained in antiquated dictionaries which demonstrate something of a bygone faith, the genealogies of the bible when they are read aloud in the manner of an incantatory prayer, and instructions as to the mastery of a complicated or archaic instrument whose use has become redundant. As a boy I would carry home oddly shaped or glittering, worthless rocks. I had no place to put them and could not justify their accumulation, yet I could not resist. The poetic allure of mysterious objects (“The aim of literature [...] is the creation of a strange object covered with fur which breaks your heart,”) has bewitched me from the day I formed my first memory. It was a piece of driftwood half submerged in the Kansas River that vaguely looked to me like the head of Medusa and which I felt sure had once rested on the shore of a land where there were men and women who had never heard the word America, never had to wear clothes or brush their teeth, and had no knowledge of the rapid mechanization of the universe. Genesis says that mankind was formed from dust, womankind from bone. The Norse say that the first man and woman were once driftwood. There is a kind of kaleidoscopic fragmentation in modern literature—whose shoulders are weighed heavily by sagging time—that is working its spidery hypnosis over me. I do not know why and perhaps the process of the unaccountable bewildering is what has gotten its powerful hooks in me. I began to read, first because I loved stories, and then once again because I did not feel I understood the world, and thought books would teach me. Now I think I do it for more than just the things I’ve mentioned, but I’m not sure how to verbalize what it is.

It’s not for anything or part of a larger story, I just want to know if I have even a bit of promise and where I have room to grow. How is the style/flow of my writing? Still new to this although I’ve always read widely and deeply.

[Anonymous No.16177102]

it's over
and over and over and over
the trenches we go
dropping the bombs below

[Anonymous No.16177562]

>But now we go to old houses, to forgotten corners, and we begin to suspect. Where did that book come from? I don't remember that old VHS movie having that cover. There are those who claim that the Promises are actually tremendously common, even banal, and that we could, at any given moment, have two or three at hand, without us ever knowing it. There are those who go further and point out
that many Promises could be flesh and blood. Who could assure us that that guy we met on the street with a somewhat peculiar look
couldn't come from the same place as the pornographic magazine or the video game console. Or vice versa - and let's remember howmany cases there are each year of unexplained and unexplained
disappearances. But all of this is just guesswork and enough to drive one insane during long lockdowns. We have only retold in
detail the objective, undeniable facts - a rare and precious
species these days.

[Anonymous No.16177710]

Make up

Makes them flawless like mint,
Stefany and Clara.
Powder of deceiving,
The white balaclava.

Hiding you self, but why?
For the house and the car?
Who do you think you are,
If your face is a lie?

Perfection is drowsy,
Just cold and meaningless.
Defect full of beauty,
Lush is the hottest mess.

[Anonymous No.16177770]

>>16176653
Where do you get off dumping a paragraph that's a page and a half long, you sadist

[Anonymous No.16177811]

>>16177770
>page and a half long
phoneposters will swing one day

[Anonymous No.16177848]

>>16177811
How many words do you think there are per page in your average novel

[Anonymous No.16178225]

>>16168092
A lady of bright blee, with brow beaming brilliancy, the dream of philosophy, whose eyes were fraught with Babel's gramarye and her eyebrows arched as for archery.

[Anonymous No.16179114]

>>16174773
look at what website you're on and reread your question out loud

[Anonymous No.16179269]

I am nearly done.

Alas!

Soon now I will cum.

Alas!

What have I become?

Alas!

Now I have come undone.

...
Alas!

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16179270]

>>16179114
It’s a blue board and lesser offenses have been deleted. Late at times, but never over a day.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16179276]

>>16179269
>Now I have come undone.

>...
>A lass

[Anonymous No.16179834]

>>16171765
Change a few words so that the rhythm is a bit more consistent and you have a gem on your hands. Other people have mentioned it, but "And the lure of logic's treason" breaks the flow.

[Anonymous No.16179856]

>>16173260
Passive writing is bad

[Anonymous No.16180295]

>>16168092

I engaged a series of women in brief couplings. The issue were taken and they were paid off.

The issue were raised sexually from birth, and amputated. They were not named. They were impregnated at orgy with their eventual replacements, and socialized to understand that this was good.

[Anonymous No.16180325]

First ever attempt on a fucking whim, shitty haiku that lacks the punch of a haiku, hackery, haicku

Absent snow, at ease
A smear, misshapen, failure
Favored not, he frets

[Anonymous No.16180626]

>>16173251
Why is it disgusting? Accidents happen, people loose their limbs. A few years ago a college girl lost her hands and her legs at the knees just like OP image, she was in an accident and suffered severe frostbite before emergency services could reach her, they had no choice but to amputate. Should she be seen as disgusting for that unfortunate event? Should anyone who finds her attractive despite that be seen as disgusting? Should anyone who even finds an image of an amputee beautiful be ostracized as a fetishist?

It is interesting that you take the name of a painter who saw beauty very differently than the rest of the world at his time but you yourself can only see what is accepted as beauty.

People like you are why amazing people like Lisa kill themselves. Pic related.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !joLBygEKRE No.16180899]

Why are my panties streaked?
Can someone take a sniff for me?

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !joLBygEKRE No.16180905]

I swing, I quim on the jungle gym.
I sniff, I whiff on my quiff.

[Anonymous No.16180919]

>>16180899
>>16180905
T. Doesn‘t know how trips work

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !joLBygEKRE No.16181036]

>>16180919
You write the code in the name tag. What is there to know?

[Anonymous No.16181179]

>>16180626
what the fuck is that slaaneshy abomination

[Anonymous No.16181185]

>>16181179
Quadrathot

[Anonymous No.16181190]

>>16181185
so brave

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16181516]

>>16180626
It’s an amputation fetish. Not like the girl had an accident, but was hacked up to keep her from running away. Asian women’s feet used to be cut up for just this purpose
Don’t use Lisa Bufano to defend this sick shit. Make a fucking distinctions.

>>16181179
Fuck you. Lisa was awesome

[Anonymous No.16181520]

>>16181036
Yeah that‘s namefagging. Tripfagging is something else and also why i know you‘re an impostor you newfag.

[Anonymous No.16181560]

>>16168092
I have committed the worst sin of all
That a man can commit. I have not been
Happy. Let the glaciers of oblivion
Drag me and mercilessly let me fall.
My parents bred and bore me for a higher
Faith in the human game of nights and days;
For earth, for air, for water, and for fire.
I let them down. I wasn’t happy. My ways
Have not fulfilled their youthful hope. I gave
My mind to the symmetric stubbornness
Of art, and all its webs of pettiness.
They willed me bravery. I wasn’t brave.
It never leaves my side, since I began:
This shadow of having been a brooding man.

[Anonymous No.16181597]

>>16181520
simp her some more, she's sure to have sex with your pimply ass.

[Anonymous No.16182001]

https://pastebin.com/QRVuf05v

[Anonymous No.16182006]

>>16171567
>How many did you pierce with thes-” He interrupted himself when the crystal snapped as he fiddled with it between his thumb and forefinger. “-crystals?”
I like what you did but I wouldn't include the interruption, maybe,
>The brittle crystal broke apart as he rolled it between his fingers. "And you? How many did you pierce with these?" He dropped the shards on the ground. The rest is pretty alright, I get Alecaine is nervous, it establishes a little bit of history for him with his whole "never hurt anyone" or maybe he's lying, I'd need more context. Whatever the reason it shows he isn't very confident, atleast that's what I got.

>>16172792
I can't offer much in the way of word choice or grammar but it seems to read pretty alright. The dialogue all feels pretty real and is pretty spot on to a couple conversation's I've had so points for realism I suppose. It does a pretty good job of the daughter showing that she does care about her mother but is a little conflicted, it makes sense she would offer excuses as to why her mother is acting this way. I'd read more.

[Anonymous No.16182029]

>>16182006
Blue. That was the only way Sophia could describe the view before her. A sky that stretched endlessly in every direction, and at the very center was her in the cockpit of a Spitfire, thirty thousand feet above the ocean. She ran out of air and stalled the engine. For the briefest of moments, Sophia felt weightless. In this infinite expanse of blue, she was completely alone. Right now she was the sole being that dared to cast off the chains of gravity, breach through the clouds, and go to the edge of the world. She could go anywhere she wanted, a thousand miles in any direction, and then a thousand more after that. This was what true freedom was. The ability for an intrepid soul to push to the absolute limits of what a machine could do, go higher than anyone else. This was her reason to live.

The nose of the plane dipped forward, and Sophia fell back to the Earth. The plane shook as it dived through the atmosphere, the air getting progressively thicker. As Sophia broke through the clouds she started the engine back up, the defiant roar of the Merlin V-12 engine drowning out the rush of wind going past. Sophia gripped the stick and pulled back with every ounce of force she could muster, taking her feet off the pedals and pushing against the floor for the slightest extra strength. She pulled out of the dive with the ocean only a few hundred feet below. The peacefulness of that blue expanse was near instantly replaced with the most thrilling experience ever. Her own heartbeat almost drowned out the Merlin engine. She coasted above the water for a while to calm down.

Sophia put her hand on the instrument panel and smiled, "I think I'll call you Icarus."

"It's not very good luck to name a plane after someone who failed to fly."

Sophia pulled her hand back stunned, "D- did you just talk?"

"Maybe, might I ask your name?"

"Uhh Sophia, nice to meet you."

"Nice you meet you as well Sophia, quite the daredevil you seem to be."

She tensed up a little and pulled her head down, a little embarrassed, "Sorry, I got a little carried aw- oh SHIT SHIT," she yanked the flight stick back and brought the plane back up.

"I can see the bad luck is already taking effect."

"Hush."

Icarus laughed, "well with a little practice I think you'll make a great pilot. Do make sure to take care of me."

"I promise."

"I guess I'll have to take care of you too then," Icarus said

Sophia smiled, "It's a deal then."

[Anonymous No.16182221]

New thing I wrote.

>>16182029
Very... cliche. Blue sky, come on. It wasn't bad by any means, though, until the plane started talking, and I wanted to turn my computer off.

[Anonymous No.16182392]

>>16177770
>Where do you get off dumping a paragraph that's a page and a half long, you sadist
Sorry, anon. Personally, I thought it would give people a better idea of the flow of my writing. ~400 words Wouldn’t take more than 1-3 minutes even for the slowest of readers. Only a few sentences did not seem like enough to judge by. But maybe you are right, since I’m not getting any comments (either that or it just sucks/is too bland to warrant constructive criticism).

[Anonymous No.16182751]

>>16182392
Crit threads aren't high volume, anon.

[Anonymous No.16182757]

She is T H I C C

[Anonymous No.16182803]

>>16180295
damn bro that's fucked up, but then again so is OPs pic

[Anonymous No.16182869]

>>16176653
Well I'm a newb and dont have any formal training, but I felt your articulated yourself very well.
>There is a kind of kaleidoscopic fragmentation in modern literature—whose shoulders are weighed heavily by sagging time—that is working its spidery hypnosis over me
I dont really like this sentence though, it feels like you're trying too hard without really saying anything, or at least not conveying what you mean or what's relevant. This sentence could work, but it needs explanation, supporting sentences. Yes the entire field of literature is very diverse with competing thoughts, styles, etc. all necessarily informed and affected by what came before. This is true for so many creative and non creative endeavors alike though, so what specifically about this casts such a spell on you?

[Anonymous No.16182956]

Blue stained teeth
And icy fingers
Crinkly soles and
Chlorine

[Anonymous No.16183006]

Home & Garden store gone mad;
The next generation rude and bad.
Pop has sold the place, Mom’s gone off;
Where now, shall I buy the food for my trough?

[Anonymous No.16183013]

>>16183006
I‘m a bit tired of the whole „young people bad“ meme. Maybe find a better subject.

[Anonymous No.16183084]

>>16179270
>still pretending 4chan falls within the realm of social acceptability

you've been here too long buttfly

[Anonymous No.16183099]

>>16173260
>His need to dominate in his endeavors was a sight to behold if one were able to accurately depict/demonstrate it.
Ooof.
Honest question: did you proof read this, like, at all? Misuse of grammar and punctuation throughout, clumsily included try hard words and nonsensical sentences made this a very unpleasant read. Advice: read more

[Anonymous No.16183103]

>>16183084

[Anonymous No.16183255]

My legs dangle a few centimeters over the ground as i sit on the toilet. I could sit a bit tilted forward but that‘s not helping with my constipation. I forgot my foot rest again but at least i got my phone. My brain is all over the place. There are 58 tabs open in my browser, from color-hex.com over fallingwater.com to twellmann.ch.
I‘ve tried to go without my phone many times before. It usually doesn‘t last long until i cave. It‘s not that i want to message or call anyone or be contacted by anyone that usually makes me reach for the phone contrary to my resolutions. It‘s that my mind is constantly darting from one idea or question to another and it is almost unbearable to not look them up. My das told me that when he was a teen, he would write notes about questions he had that nobody could knew could answer and then once every two months or so, he would go to the library and try to find an answer. That sounds comfy and like it would less likely result in schizophrenia but it also sounds annoying and like it would result in greatly diminished knowledge. I am constantly torn between thinking the internet is a blessing for providing us access to almost everything humans know in a matter of seconds to believing it is a curse for it leaves little place for our own thoughts and experiences. When i was a kid, i got my first phone at age 12. it was a nokia 3310 if i remember correctly and it was mint green, which was very cool since everyone else had it in silver or black. In hindsight i am very happy i grew up without phone with cameras. I don‘t know how kids today survive this. I guess the only way to not go insane over it is to not know anything else.

[Anonymous No.16183650]

>>16168211
Sorry I'm a brainlet, can you explain the twist to me? It was just the cows dream?

[Anonymous No.16183824]

>>16182221
>Criticizes others for being cliche
>Starts story with a character waking up

[Anonymous No.16183943]

>>16168211
Wait, Old Betsy sacrificed herself?

[Anonymous No.16184191]

>>16181516
I am perfectly aware of the fetish and from what I can tell of the artist, he is not exploiting fetishism but showing society a difficult side of itself, admittedly my lack of Japanese may be to blame for that view. Either way, if some amputee fetishist mutilates someone, should I see that mutilated person as nothing but product of a disgusting mind? Or should I look beyond that? Is this image any different? Despite the things suggested by this image I can not deny it has beauty as well and that forced me consider things differently, to not make a "fucking distinction" as you put it, to edit what I wrote before I clicked Post.

Everyone has thoughts unfit for society, flights of fantasy that go beyond what is accepted, should we condemn people for those thoughts? Art has a long history of exploiting this, mixing the grotesque with the beautiful, forcing people to acknowledge this side of themselves and society, to ask themselves the difficult questions, to do more than just react.

[Anonymous No.16184771]

„I want to talk to you.“
„About what?“
„Everything.“
„That‘s a bit broad. Can we try to narrow the field a bit?“
„About us.“
„What about us?“
„Everything.“
„You sound uncomfortable.“
„I am.“
„What is it you need to tell me that‘s so hard to say?“
...
„Let it out, it‘s not going to get any better. You know i can handle it.“
„Alright, give me a moment.“
...
...
„It‘s that i feel like you do not want to be here. Not really.“
...
„To be honest, you‘re right. This is awkward. I should probably go.“
„No! Please, can we talk this out? I don‘t want you to leave. I want things to feel right again...“
„Alright, let‘s try.“
„Why do you not want to be here with me?“
„I don‘t know... maybe because we don‘t really talk about anything besides mundane things anymore. I could have the same conversations with Mrs. Elgar. This is not what i have i mind when i think about how i want love to feel like.“
„So you‘re bored with me?“
„No, well - maybe. It‘s not that you‘re boring. It‘s more that we don‘t show each other our not-boring sides anymore.“
„Why?“
„Maybe because we decided that it is too dangerous.“
„Do you not trust me with your non-boring side?“
„No, i do trust you. It‘s not that.“
„What is it then?“
...
„It‘s hard to put into words and even harder to tell you. Maybe i feel like you‘re not worth my non-boring side.“
...
„That hurt.“
„I know. It‘s why i didn‘t wanted to tell you... but that won‘t solve anything either. I‘m sorry. I hate to hurt you but i have to be honest or we will never be able to solve this.“
„You‘re right but i think i need a moment to recover from this blow.“
She‘s grabbing the almost empty pack of cigarettes from the table and crunches them with her pale hand as she walks out to the balcony. She lights one with precision, done a million times. I don‘t like that she smokes but i like watching her smoke. Her lips softly being pulled out by the weight of the cigarette, the sharp inhale that expands her and finally the relieved puff of smoke from her hairless nostrils and her coral mouth. She‘s beautiful. But i don‘t love her.

[Anonymous No.16184830]

>>16168092
For me, it's the cordless Milwaukee 18V line of cordless drills. You know...the drill.

[a No.16184883]

ibid,crow,feather,dictionary

[Anonymous No.16185347]

>>16184883
what's this? hacked webcam?

[Anonymous No.16185768]

>>16183824
Not him but the guy he replied to, I explicitly started my story already up in a plane because I didn't want to start with her waking up

[Anonymous No.16185779]

I fuk u'r pussey and I cum in it to

How's that?

[Anonymous No.16185787]

>>16185779
What's that, iambic heptameter?

[a No.16185854]

>>16185347
ust some japanese frownedupoun porno.motherucsa a soon kind o shit4.
itstheflopponherlegsthatgetthein

[Anonymous No.16185869]

>>16185787
>Long complicated work that make brain go ouchy
Yes.

[Anonymous No.16185875]

>>16185854
fix your spacebar

[Anonymous No.16185879]

>>16185787
>Long complicated word that make brain go ouchy
Yes.

[a No.16185989]

>>16185875
wax

[Anonymous No.16186012]

>>16182221
Why? What's bad about the plane talking?

[Anonymous No.16186145]

>>16181560

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16186358]

>>16184191
>Is this image any different?
It’s guro and goes in >>>/d/

[Anonymous No.16186967]

>>16186358

>wah I don't like images of amputated women waaahhh!!!

[Anonymous No.16187294]

Sadness shows so well
In a snow flower;
Look as it tells
A suicides hour.

[Anonymous No.16187610]

>>16186358
>does not actually answer the question.
OK.

[Anonymous No.16188337]

I miss that blue watercolor of morning
oh, how it's beauty cast a warning,
a warning on the coast of feeling
swayed by the sound of my own lies,
that subtle surf of thoughts,
it turns into tidal surge at my eyes.

This is really the only thing i've written so far, I remember looking at the sky the morning I wrote it. I don't know anything about poetry but I like writing and I wanna learn more, does anybody have any tips on how to improve?

[Anonymous No.16188392]

>>16168092

Passage is an excerpt from a larger work. Feel free to fuck my shit up. I want to improve. For context, the knight, Zia, and Chasper, Zia's father, ate dinner together the night prior. During said dinner, Zia avoided all eye contact, refused to talk to the knight, and coldly reprimanded her father.

The knight leaned against the doorframe as he watched Von Salis and Zia talk, confident that the aged man would soon redirect his attention to him. However, far from waning, the conversation grew more animated with every passing moment, as Von Salis punctuated his words with explosive gestures. Zia, on the other hand, acted much more reserved in mannerisms and even-toned in her inflections, though still not immune to the occasional chuckle. Who was this woman, the knight asked himself. She seemed more ladylike than most ladies, and possessed a rugged, natural beauty that even women-at-court, with all their resources, often fail to approximate. She contained the frizz of her hair in a braid which fell on her shoulder and bore verdant, green eyes which framed her face like gems in a crown, the same, intense eyes which only hours prior seemed to forsake the souls of all they saw. What was it about him, about nobles, what was it about Chasper, her father, that so contorted that good-natured soul? The knight sighed. Von Salis was proving to be more of a conversationalist than he bargained for. He retreated from the house and returned to his stump, where he ate from his pack and sharpened his saber on a whetstone.

[Anonymous No.16188562]

>>16172113
This basic form can work well. Your main problem is execution - in particular, the rhyming, which feels clunky and contrived. It's OK to rhyme badly if it's clearly done deliberately. (Look at "Song For A Phallus" in Ted Hughes' "Crow", for example - it's a sort of horrible parody of a child's nursery-rhyme, so the bad rhymes work.) Here, though, it just sounds as though you're trying to rhyme but aren't very good at it, and are therefore bending the subject-matter to fit the rhymes, which is one of the worst things you can do in poetry.

Also, sticking to rhymed couplets throughout and then ending with unrhymed lines has a really deflatory effect. Remember that the exact opposite is much more common ― an unrhymed body ending with a rhymed couplet (Shakespeare does it all the time in his plays). So what you've done is really swimming against the current. I'm not saying it can never work ('m sure it has been made to work) but you have to know exactly what you're doing, and be aware that the natural effect will be anticlimax - even bathos.

Here's two poems you might find worth your while:

>Love Pet (Hughes, again)
Same basic idea of something ravenously hungry, built up with repetitions, with a similar sort of climax.

>The Unsettled Motorcyclist's Vision Of His Death (Thom Gunn)
Gunn is one of the few 20th-century poets who used rhymed couplets consistently and succesfully. Most these days feel they're too Age of Enlightenment to be employed unironically.

[Anonymous No.16188603]

>>16181560

Not bad, but this thread is supposed to be for anons to post their own work.

If you particularly like this poem, or identify with it, you might like to try Philip Larkin, who spends at least half his time whinging like this.
e.g.
>The Life With A Hole In It
>Toads
>Send No Money Now
>Skin
etc

[Anonymous No.16189269]

Bumpenkopf

[Anonymous No.16189587]

Memory's electric ghost
Has made my body its host
No priest can exorcise
Treasured, rose-tinted lies

Turn couch to electric chair
Calm to contorted spasm
How can I escape this lair?
Claw out of past's deep chasm

Screams at the thought of love
Best of times now gone to rot
Time to send you up above
Exorcism by gunshot

[Anonymous No.16190180]

>>16171794
>>16171836
>>16172989
>>16175448
>>16176092
>>16179834
Thanks for the feedback and support. I'll see if I can tighten up the rhythm. Just as a quick tweak, would this be better:
>Lies a break between what we see
>With the lure of logic's treason;
To me at least, it adds more of a stress to the beginning of the line so it doesn't feel like too big of a gap.

Also, as some of you have correctly pointed out, the subject has been done before. While I understand the need for originality in what one writes about, I feel if one writes enough poetry, it is completely unavoidable to cover ground that previous poets had been on.

Thanks again for the input

[Anonymous No.16190441]

[Anonymous No.16190455]

>>16168092
Image is from Hiroaki Samura

[Anonymous No.16190667]

She finally smiled in relief, going back to gently caressing my cock with her small tender hand. I really didn't want to push her further, but my desire to try it out was too strong, too overwhelming for me to stop those horrifying words from escaping my mouth. "I want you to lick my ass." I said confidently, my voice almost (almost!) cracking at the last syllable. I didn't expect the kind of reaction I got the next moment. Her smile got even brighter as she cheerfully yanked my legs up, revealing my brownish gaping asshole for her to examine. "Wow," she said, "never thought my brother would be into something like that." What came after I remember groggingly, must've passed out due to pleasure. But the feeling of her soft tongue exploring my dirty unwashed hole for the first time stays in my mind to this very day.

[Anonymous No.16190681]

>>16189587
That‘s pretty damn amazing. Well done anon. Idk how you managed to make so many clichées not feel clichée but you did.

[Anonymous No.16190683]

The hell kind internally boil.
The rainbows shine through the cracks.
Waves crest beneath the ave.
Concrete stretches far and fed.

Tomhet woke to a falling smooth sound
With subtle fuzz from early form digital
Grooved into the indents in the rock over the strait
Hand on rifle, ready to fire from base
The boat continued its line

Deep breathing in
Fully out, too
The flesh was not dry like the water
Where the sailors would soon drown

[Anonymous No.16190712]

>>16188337
it was pretty good
if i would change anything:
i would not

going forward try to use less obvious word choices and grammar pieces. i liked how your poem had whimsy to begin and had 6 lines

[Anonymous No.16190783]

[Anonymous No.16190784]

>>16190783
It has not much to do with manletism.

[Anonymous No.16190953]

[Anonymous No.16190992]

>>16190953
Nice but hackety znak is a stupid name this isnt 1965, KURT

[Anonymous No.16191005]

>>16190992
znak is russian for sign or symbol, hackety means poorly constructed. the real name of the written system is Adobrasignature, but everyone calls it hackety znak as slang.

[Anonymous No.16191081]

>>16191005
Hackety is a memey word in english and Znak sounds cheap scifi in english, but if youre ruski i guess tis okay. still sounds silllllly tho but if thats ur itnent

[Anonymous No.16191626]

The neighborhoods’ seduction dressed yellow
in the driveway.
A hand pressed against the sky and broke its air
and the heat crashed on a valley highway in the
hot noon sun.
This suburban seduction has me smiling,
I’ve seen it all before
Seduction sweeps grass clippings to a dustpan.

[Anonymous No.16192321]

>>16190953
There's not a whole lot to critique here apart from the actual math, but I didn't major in pure mathematics so I can't help there. Pretty much the only thing I can say is that I like the dialogue tags, how you have subtle movements with the characters makes them feel more real

[Anonymous No.16192648]

>>16190681
Thanks

[Anonymous No.16192661]

>>16174773
liberals

[Anonymous No.16192704]

>>16191005
Interesting, using sexagesimal, in your universe this gives direct motivation for seconds and minutes. I hope the ellipsis at the end is a real omission of the rest of the text and not used for a pause for the other character to interrupt.

>>16192321
The maths described is just an elaboration on place value, very hard to make a mistake on.

[Anonymous No.16193364]

>>16192704
>I hope the ellipsis at the end is a real omission of the rest of the text
yes

[Anonymous No.16193447]

>>16193364
Your face is about to be an omission of space you virulent goon

[Anonymous No.16193555]

>>16171765
truly amazing.

[Anonymous No.16193939]

>>16193447
I was trying to say that it is an omission, and not an interruption.

[Anonymous No.16193972]

>>16190953
Oh this is for that one number isn’t it
6+2=

[Anonymous No.16194602]

pls no bully

[Anonymous No.16194896]

How does one switch from a third person perspective to a first person inner monologue? Or should you just stay third person?

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16194926]

>>16194896
Chapters, no?

[Anonymous No.16194943]

>>16171765
Way beyond me. I can't critique it.

[Anonymous No.16195056]

I hate women. I don't have any reason why I hate them in particular. I never allow myself to formulate an argument about why I hate things. Doing so ruins the intensity of the hatred, and you suddenly find yourself thinking rationally, making compromises, and coming to terms with what you hate. I don't want to do that. I just want the angst filled volcano of hate to burst through its brim, pouring firey passion over my entire being, fossilizing my rage for all of eternity, and clouding the skys with the woestricken ash.
So today I hate women. I'll probably be hating something else in a couple hours, but for now, I sit back, and quietly, ever so quietly, seethe.
"Oh darling, you haven't laid eyes on me in quite some time." The luscious redhead moves yet closer to him, draping herself around his shoulders like a scarf. "Oh dear, is babysitting the child taking up too much of your time?"
The sinful young one stretches out across his lap. "Oh noooo! An evil hag has come to steal my treasure!"
She extends a hand towards his face, which he catches in his own. "I would never abandon you. Buried treasure always returns to its owner. "
"Then what does that make me?" The luscious redhead pouts, drawing her face close to whisper in his ear.
"You're the bandit in the night, come to steal me away." He turns his face and kisses her.
I look away, towards the bar. Nebubradnezzar has always been a ken. It's never been a problem, since he's a good friend otherwise, even though we were never siblings.
I met him back in Second Care, before he wore his bangs slicked back up in a headband. He was short, skinny, and lonesome. I picked a fight with him because I was tough, buff, and knew I could win. He went all in, fighting like a mad dog. He still lost, but as I was leafing through his wallet, he praised my strength.
Well, nobody had ever complimented me before, so I didn't know how to take it. I spat on his crumpled form, and took my leave. It took me a couple idle days to think of something to spend the money on.
But the something smart came to me. I went to that crappy casualized gym I used to go to, and bought a membership card for a couple months. Next time I saw him, I chucked the wallet at his head. And the very next day, there he was. We still workout together on Pisces, Leo and Cancer, though he spends a little too much focus on his abs for my tastes. I always preferred having a tough stomach that could take a punch, but I've seen enough women doing body shots off his stomach to understand the reasoning.
So I don't hate Nebubradnezzar. In fact, I think I like him. But women, I cannot stand.

[Anonymous No.16195236]

Would you keep reading?

Translation:
It is an unsolved mystery to me, how one cannot fall in love with the labyrinthine alleys and backyards of Prague. Here a life takes place which, in its peculiarity, cannot be compared with anything else in the world. I only remind you of the strange case that happened here a few weeks ago and has since found its way, under the title "The Flying Girl", into the puppet theatres of our neighbourhood. I can boast –– boast? –– of a similar story that no longer belongs to the present, in which I played an albeit small, but not insignificant role. If you are in the mood for amusement and want to listen to an old man, then take a seat at my table, it is free, and drink of my wine, and listen.

Original:
Es ist mir ein offenes Rätsel, wie man sich nicht verlieben kann in die labyrinthischen Prager Gassen und Hinterhöfe. Hier spielt sich ein Leben ab, das, an Sonderbarkeit, mit nichts auf der Welt sich vergleichen lässt. Ich erinnere nur an den merkwürdigen Fall, der vor einigen Wochen hier sich zutrug, und seither unter dem Titel "Das fliegende Mädchen" in den Puppentheatern der Nachbarschaft Einzug gefunden hat. An einer ähnlichen Geschichte, die zur Gegenwart nun nicht mehr gehört, kann ich mich rühmen –– rühmen? –– eine wenn auch kleine, so doch nicht unbedeutende Rolle gespielt zu haben. Wenn du Kurzweil hast und Lust, einem alten Manne zu lauschen, dann nimm Platz an meinem Tisch, er steht dir frei, und trink von meinem Wein, und höre.

–––

>>16194602
I like your poem well, Anon. I think the idea is better than its execution. I (as a non-native) do not find any gross errors in the language, but also no sparkling beauty that springs from perfection. I stumbled a bit over the third verse. Maybe it's intentional, or maybe my faulty english is to blame, but I took the verse to mean that no woman's kiss could replace wine, a star, and honeyed art. I suppose you have arranged the words for the rhyme that way, but this makes it misleading (for a moment).

>>16191626
I don't understand what this is about. But I like "A hand pressed against the sky" and "Seduction sweeps grass clippings to a dustpan". Whereas "the heat crashed on a valley highway in the hot noon sun" seems pale in comparison.

[Anonymous No.16195510]

>>16195236
>Es ist mir ein offenes Rätsel, wie man sich nicht verlieben kann in die labyrinthischen Prager Gassen und Hinterhöfe. Hier spielt sich ein Leben ab, das, an Sonderbarkeit, mit nichts auf der Welt sich vergleichen lässt. Ich erinnere nur an den merkwürdigen Fall, der vor einigen Wochen hier sich zutrug, und seither unter dem Titel "Das fliegende Mädchen" in den Puppentheatern der Nachbarschaft Einzug gefunden hat. An einer ähnlichen Geschichte, die zur Gegenwart nun nicht mehr gehört, kann ich mich rühmen –– rühmen? –– eine wenn auch kleine, so doch nicht unbedeutende Rolle gespielt zu haben. Wenn du Kurzweil hast und Lust, einem alten Manne zu lauschen, dann nimm Platz an meinem Tisch, er steht dir frei, und trink von meinem Wein, und höre.

I would keep reading anon. I‘m already hooked on wanting to know what „das fliegende Mädchen“ is about.

Some writing suggestions:
>ein offenes Rätsel
Rätsel already implies it‘s unsolved. I‘d drop the offen.

> Hier spielt sich ein Leben ab, das, an Sonderbarkeit, mit nichts auf der Welt sich vergleichen lässt
Drop the commas after ab. A german would write „hier spielt sich ein Leben ab, das sich an Sonderbarkeit mit nichts auf der Welt vergleichen lässt.“ but your variation sounds more poetic if a bit laborious. As if it had been written hundred years ago. If that‘s the aesthetic you are going for, keep it that way.

> Ich erinnere nur an den merkwürdigen Fall, der vor einigen Wochen hier sich zutrug, und seither unter dem Titel "Das fliegende Mädchen" in den Puppentheatern der Nachbarschaft Einzug gefunden hat.

Here it depends. You can either go with „ich erinnere mich nur...“ or „ich denke nur...“. „Ich erinnere nur...“ doesn‘t make sense.
Also change it up to „der sich hier vor einigen Wochen zutrug“.

> die zur Gegenwart nun nicht mehr gehört
Same thing. „Die nun nicht mehr zur Gegenwart gehört“

> Kurzweil hast und Lust
I‘d drop the Lust and only let the Kurzweil stand

Really enjoyable read anon.

[Anonymous No.16195683]

>>16195510
Thanks for your kind words and advice, Anon. I can't write "normally" (at least it seems to me that way), so I take refuge in an old-fashioned style. The crooked wording is intentional, stuff like "der vor einigen Wochen hier sich zutrug" is probably a bit too much though. All hope is not yet lost, it seems.

Do you have something to read?

[Anonymous No.16195699]

>>16195236
I want to read about a traveling puppet show in the labyrinthinian alleys of Prague now

[Anonymous No.16196694]

Nobody responded to mine.

You're all some damn cowards and I'll meet you in hell.

[Anonymous No.16196790]

>>16196694
link it and I will read and respond and then meet you in hell

[Anonymous No.16196798]

>>16196694
That usually means it‘s got nothing to say.

[Anonymous No.16197072]

Postman Ying stood in front of a cast-iron door with a bundle of letters under his arm. In the middle of the door a goat's head was carved. The rest of the surface was filled with a circular line that represented something like a vortex. In the heart of the vortex, the goat's head looked at Ying with a changed expression.

Then the head cleared its throat. Ying fell down in shock and dropped the letters. "Hey, don't worry kid, I'm just a door. If you want to get in, you have to put a almond in my mouth," and the goat opened his mouth and wagged his iron tongue. Ying was on his feet again and silently looked up and down the empty street. Then he asked, "Can't I just knock?" "No, you can't," the goat replied and whinnyed.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16197116]

>>16194602

I’d personally have liked a stronger rhyme sequence, in general it just feels overly short even if what you’re trying to convey is simple, but since it’s too short it’s causing the confusion the other fellow sees. Maybe just try writing them longer to give yourself more space to create a flow.

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16197131]

(Moth here is a reference to the Canaanite deity of death.)

Moth the Sunderer of Life from Flesh

“Moth Make the sign of moth, Free this life from the flesh
Kill my eyes and slay me, so I may see God fresh
Suffering a shadow, come release my spirit
Light mixing with The Light, only the fools fear It
Forty Trillion years, I slept in your presence
Forty trillion years, I shall be your essence
Never did I know you, never seeing your face
I was moved by your voice, I condensed in space
In the heartless serpent, banished from unknowledge
Slithering never still, I suffered but gained knowledge
The flower groweth up, the Flower also Fadeth
I know you in this dream, when I and thou waketh
Give me the sign of Moth, take my life but not Thou
only knowledge of you, serpent bound until now
I am in the valley, I am in the shadow
The shadow sign of moth, cleaving of the rainbow
The very sight of light, freedom of the great height
the slithering is gone, time unveil the delight
Forty trillion years, you I shall never shun
Forty trillion years, i and thou become One”

[Anonymous No.16197132]

>>16197072
A bit many cliches but not bad otherwise.

[Anonymous No.16197178]

>>16197131
Have you thought of retitling it Moth the Sunderer of Light from Fire and adjusting the text to focus more on the moths people actually know about?

[Anonymous No.16197197]

>>16168092
I really like this artwork but I don't know why the artist didn't put more detail into the hair

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16197244]

>>16197178

I haven’t because desu I had 0 conception of literal moths when writing it, was considering the broad Semitic idea. Maybe I’ll try it.

[Anonymous No.16197272]

>>16168092
Sorry for phone posting. Be harsh thanks. I've given feedback to many pieces here on another post.

[Anonymous No.16197436]

why you are racist if you think the word "nigger" is offensive

initially the term was not special, it was used by both blacks and whites simply to refer to a certain group of people, in latin languages the equivalent term "negra" is still in permissible common use. after the civil rights movement it was a unique decision of white people to retcon the term and retroactively decide that it was offensive and outrageous, this is why the term is still in common use in the black community but not in the white community. the reason they decided it was offensive was because of their innate, perhaps subconscious, perception that black people were inferior, just as the terms spastic and retard were initially emotionally neutral medical terms but were retroactively decided to be offensive because of peoples innate disrespect for the mentally disabled. this is why whenever you consider the term "nigger" to be offensive you are actually participating in a process that derives from the perception of black people as inferior, and a uniquely white process at that. prove me wrong fucko.

[Anonymous No.16197462]

>>16197272
This is so over-the-top, I love it. You could write some jolly lovecraftian horror stories. Good stuff.

[Anonymous No.16197673]

I've realized after going through a couple of my chapters, 70-80% is dialogue, and the only narration I have is in the very beginning setting up a scene, at most I only use two to three sentences to describe the area they're in. Is this a bad thing?

[Anonymous No.16197686]

>>16194926
So at the beginning of a new chapter switch from 3rd to 1st? and once the long monologue is done go to 3rd again?

[Anonymous No.16197836]

>>16197673
Why should that be a problem? Descriptions and dialogues are only vehicles for emotions and insights. The stuff you write should to have a high carrying capacity. Which vehicle you use is not important. As far as art is concerned.

Maybe it's a problem on the market place, though. Most books don't have such a big dialogue part. So readers are used to different things. Maybe they can't easily enjoy your style of writing.

[Anonymous No.16197857]

>>16197686
Chip Woodman was an only child with a knack for monologues. Lets hear it, Chip. Cough. Oh my oh my, what is wrong with the world, I ask you.

And so on. Different ways.

[Anonymous No.16197866]

Would you guys read an urban contemporary novel about an upcoming rapper called Lil Iliad, who can trace his lineage back to the Homeridai, or the Sons of Homer? I will interweave narrative with the lyrical spiritual individual raps of the main protagonist, who needs to duke it out at the mother of all rap battles at a festival called Troy.

He of course will be the embodiment of Lesches' lost epic Little Iliad from the Epic Cycle.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Iliad

[Anonymous No.16197890]

She slept beneath a sea of stars. Soft eastern wind swept down the high hills and low places of the wilderness. Feeling it brush past her fingers and hair, she awoke at last and saw the blue night rising over her. It would be around this time for men of the wood to close and lock their doors, animals to emerge from the thick brush, and for giants to wade through trees like tall grass. With the moon hanging low, the world was as it always had been, quiet and still. But in secret, she knew this night would be different. There were stars beyond stars coming to shine upon the land, and now they had risen again. All she had to do was wait, and there would soon be wonder.

Autumn had finally arrived with his cool breath, and many leaves had flown off as the wind went, only to sink lower and become lost in black undergrowth. There, fell logs and stones lay hidden amidst wild stalks of grass, with the light of bobbing fireflies blinking in and out. The land was also cluttered with far reaching trees, dark and swaying. Each passing breeze sent their branches rustling softly against each other, the sound like clear ocean water spreading itself against a distant shore. Hidden in bushes and trees were crickets chattering out to one another in continuous noise. Grass scratched against thick tree bark, the sound growing. All the while there could be heard the low growl of giant’s song, through hill and valley, tree and stone, blending into the forest’s sweet sound. Her music filled every hole and hollow.

[Anonymous No.16198181]

>>16197836
Most books I see there's a lot of narration descriptions but in my writing I'm really dialogue heavy. I just think I can do characterization better with dialogue. It's a lot easier for me. I've thought that writing a stage play would be easier because of that but I really want to write a book instead

[Anonymous No.16198226]

>>16197866
If it's written as one big shitpost but with good writing, I might actually love that

[Anonymous No.16198266]

>>16198181
>>16198181
The Friends of Eddie Coyle or Manservant and Maidservant (Ivy Compton-Burnett in general) do it. Kiss of the Spider Woman does it. Many such cases.

[Anonymous No.16198318]

https://pastebin.com/apbSnFuC

I will read anything you point me towards even if you don’t want to read this

[Anonymous No.16198364]

>>16197890
Stop beginning stories with the character waking up for the love of god people

[Anonymous No.16198443]

>>16168092
pls no bulli

I

Un moment passe et un autre prend sa place,
quand nous chassons l’temps mais il aussi chasse
nos vies mais nous n’y pensons pas du tout
nous dansons et nous chantons jusqu'au trou
dans l’quel nous-nous trouv’rons ensembles un jour
et dans lequel nous resterons toujours.
Je chantes pour juste un moment une chanson
en espérant d’invoquer une passion
dans le coeur du peuple et peut-être un jour
l'humanité sera donc en amour
avec le monde et toutes ses créatures,
avec Jésus, et avec la nature.
Les chansons du passé, d’hommes éduqués
comme celles d’Homère, je n’crois pas surpasser
car je suis qu'un pauvre paysan sans richesses
ni sans inspirations et une prouesse
que seuls ces hommes d’excès y ont accès,
mes lignes des insultes à leur art parfait.
Je vous invites, lecteur, pour un moment
a suivre mes lignes d’un poème sagement.
Aucune muse ni sirène à chanter, non,
l’homme est seul pendant la dureté d’cette chanson.

[Anonymous No.16198452]

>>16198443

II

Les arbres d’ici dansent en toutes leurs grandeurs
le vert de leurs feuilles vibrant comme leurs coeurs,
Leurs branches se secouent d’un côté à l’autre
en attaquant ceux qui s’approchent d’la côte,
ces titans hauts nous entoures dès l’premier
moment quand nos bateaux sont arrivés,
de Bretagne nous v’nons nous fils de troyens,
l’héritage d’Énée, missionnaires chrétiens.
Nous sommes p’tits dans ce pays oû la nature
menace de renverser nos bateaux durs,
elle nous chasse et détruit comme des vermines
avec des vents et des vagues si divines
que même le Français n’échappe son ultime
jugement jusqu'à qu’il s’assis sur la terre
sur laquelle nous attends que plus de guerres.
Derrière nous est la grande mer et l’passé
que nous n’verrons plus, pourquoi y penser,
et en avant il est a quelque part
le futur qui n’est jamais au retard
et une grande terre sauvage sans trajectoires.
C’est dans cette nation d’arbres que nous somme v’nus
deux centaines de Bretons à l'inconnu
un moment passe et un autre prend sa place
nous glissons cependant sur aucune glace
nous glissons sur nos propres semelles mouillées
dans la boue qui nous pogne par nos deux pieds.
Le ciel sans aucun oiseau, ni nuages,
blanc sans étoiles, ni soleil, ni orages
nous surveille d’en haut en s’cachent l’visage
et seuls les noyés peuvent y échapper
ou bien ceux que l’on avait enterrés
les vivants doivent sous son poids continuer.
Quand le Français cris sa voix cours aux arbres
elle change et elle revient dans une autre langue,
quand le Français regarde a l'horizon
Son regard lui retourne d’entre les buissons,
tout nos gestes nous reviennent, notre colère,
nos pêchés, notre grâce, et nos actes divers.
Un fort nous construisons avec les arbres,
leurs corps sers comme nos maisons, cet massacre
de géants verts par coup d’haches jusqu'à qu’on soit
les maîtres de cette terre sous notre roi François,
sur une butte nous sommes, sentinelles fort’fiés
prêts pour les défis et l’Anglais rancé.

[Anonymous No.16198502]

>>16197890
It has a pretty good flow, I really like this style of writing, great descriptions too

[Anonymous No.16198539]

>>16198364
The “she” in the story isn’t a person, it’s the forest itself. Note that I also describe the autumn wind as “HIS cool breath”

[Anonymous No.16198563]

>>16196694
That usually means it's not psuedo intellectual garbage created out by some ai tuned to the supposed tastes of /lit/

[Anonymous No.16198635]

>>16198539
Doesn’t matter. Person, forest, pig, whatever - don’t start with them waking up. Also, don’t begin with paragraphs of tedious descriptions. There’s no character, no action. Find me a great novel with such a plodding start.

[Anonymous No.16198666]

>>16197866
I would if his name was lil iad

[Anonymous No.16198794]

>>16198635
The hobbit.

[Anonymous No.16198886]

Daily reminder that anyone who uses the word 'flow' doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about.

[Anonymous No.16199157]

>>16198886

[Anonymous No.16199283]

>It has a pretty good flow, I really like this style of writing, great descriptions too

[Anonymous No.16199536]

>>16199283
>he names and numbers his reaction image
Fucking kill yourself.

[Anonymous No.16199619]

>>16197890
Hot

[Anonymous No.16199649]

>>16199619
This novel will use multiple perspectives, and I want this forest to be one of them. I don’t want to use the “I USE PERSONIFICATION SO ITS BASICALLY ITS OWN CHARACTER” garbage. This forest will be an actual character with a personality and character development.

[Anonymous No.16199753]

>>16199536
>disorganized
I can tell you're a shit writer already.

[Anonymous No.16200251]

>>16199753
Not true. I happen to be so rich I can pay for photos of me and my lakehouse so I can use it for the headshot for my Lovecraft pastiche published by Weird Tales.

[Anonymous No.16200398]

reddit

[Anonymous No.16200464]

This is my submission to my college's drug PSA contest. Thoughts?

[Anonymous No.16200535]

Honestly tell me, what do you enjoy about literature?

[Anonymous No.16200845]

>>16197890
>sea of stars
>brush past her fingers

[Anonymous No.16200858]

>>16198318
id suggest you actually read the leading avant garde works.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16201563]

>Four+ days of sick horror fetish porn. Left up
>Deleting a woman who isn’t even naked

[Anonymous No.16201700]

The Fall

The Light expelled my being from its domain;
I hurtled toward the open ocean blue
Accompanied by thunder and the rain.
Between the clouds, its surface came in view,
Covered in indigo -- it seemed so smooth
And flawless like a marble in the sky.
Then I began to see its features move;
The rivers in the ocean seen from high
Hugged along the naked shoreline;
It would recede and swell by Luna's eye,
Leaving white foam upon the beaches
Then rolling back into the currents line.
When I had cleared the clouds,
The Earth revealed its countless waves
That moved in tides; they would occasionally
Clash against another crest by their side.
I slammed into the sea and saw the splash
Disappear in stormy chop.
The weight of sin submerged my soul.
I plunged beyond the surface that swirls
To a black and cold abyss
Where Light fails to shine,
Where senses freeze and die.
There is no me;
I was consumed in bleak eternity;
There is only
The Dark.

[Anonymous No.16201712]

>>16201563
How do we know it’s not a bad translation from French?

[Anonymous No.16201724]

>>16201563
god this is such a great image overall

[Anonymous No.16201750]

>>16201712
It is

[Anonymous No.16202161]

I randomly thought of a concept for a story last night and was wondering what your thoughts were.

A man and a woman are dating. The woman was a victim of sexual abuse as a child and was filmed for child porn. The man is secretly a pedophile. One day she walks in on him unknowingly masturbating to pictures of her as a child. The story is about an unlikely pair helping each other to heal and grow.

Thoughts?

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16202190]

>>16202161
Extremely creepy.
Maybe adjust it to him not recognizing her at first, only later remembering her From pictures he’s seen of her as a child

[Anonymous No.16202357]

>>16202161
Write it. We don‘t need more political correct shit anyways. That market is saturated and people are growing tired of it.

[Anonymous No.16202492]

>>16181516

>NOOOO ACROTOMOPHILIA IS WRONG NOOOOOOO THIS DOESN'T FLY IN MY ANARCHY NOOOOOO

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16202611]

>>16202492
In an anarchist world, I see less sexual hangups and fetishisms. But bringing up my politics concerning this? Dumb post

[Anonymous No.16203048]

>>16202611

>NOOOO DON'T HAVE FETISHES ANARCHY SHOULD (((FREE))) US IN THE GOOFY JEW/PROTESTANT SENSE THAT I MEAN (EVEN THOUGH I'M AN ATHEIST) FROM THE DELIGHT OF IMAGINING AMPUTEE SEX SLAVES OR THE 19TH CENTURY HANDKERCHIEF KINK STOP BEING INCONVENIENT SEXUAL BEINGS WHEN I DON'T LIKE IT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GROUP SEX IS THE FARTHEST I CARE TO GO STOP AMPUTATING OTHERS NOOOOOOO

[Anonymous No.16203441]

Purgatory I stay. Mewling, churning, turning over in my palm. Clutching stones. Hard — so my wrist tendons are visible. Set down. Smooth stones on the ground. Stay squat. Observe the threaded ends of my clothes; my rags. This end frayed more than it was earlier. Observe the increasing visibility of my calves beneath the ragged ends. The bone defines itself from the muscle. The skin taut holding the apparatus. I stand and spin a revolution. The walls are in the same place they were before. Three feet from my nose. I’m in this tower. Organizing my stones. And sleeping. I organize my stones in pleasant patterns. Squares, circles, however I want. I do it while crouched. Before I place a stone I consider the ground. My placements are very intentional. I turn the stone over in my palm. I enjoy the feeling of the smoothed stone in my palm. I must consider the placement of this stone. I like it’s color — brown. I attempt to recall past placements of this stone. I must draw on past placements if I am to place it this time correctly. Also of importance; this stone’s current character. What is the stone thinking this iteration? Where is it naturally vying. I spend time learning this stone’s character in my palm. With every turn its character slightly deviates. For it has slightly eroded. Over the years all the stones have altered character. They have changed. Shed aspects here and gained some there. In color and shape. These changes must be accounted for. I dutifully study their evolution for things must be done right. This stone I am prepared to place. Perhaps in the morning — I will sleep on it then return to my task.

[Anonymous No.16203797]

>>16197462
thanks. maybe i shouldnt be so over the top

[Anonymous No.16203805]

>>16182221
>Very... cliche. Blue sky, come on.
Dumbass.

https://www.orionsarm.com/page/321

[Anonymous No.16203891]

I've never written a poem before but I wanted to so here is (about something going on in my life rn)

I know it won't be great but if you could tell me why I'd like that.

Tending the Garden-

>This Garden needs some pruning
>There's far too many weeds!

>They creep up and entangle,
>Constrict you, and deceive

>So brandish your fine clippers
>And flash them all a grin

>You're going to cut all of them out
>To let the flowers all come in

[Anonymous No.16203918]

>>16203891
And another silly one I did because I've been skipping the gym lately

Goblins and Gremlins
>Beware the gobs and gremlins!
>They'd like to cause you pain.
>Money, Love, and Muscle
>They'll steal all your gains

[Anonymous No.16203931]

>>16203891
the flow of the last line is a little off, unless I'm getting the cadence wrong, but I don't think the word 'all' has to be there.

[Anonymous No.16203945]

Jen is making me an oat latte. ‘We have to stay trendy,’ she says, ‘if we want to keep making money.’
Jesus, Jen. First onions, then almond, now this? 'Remind me,’ I say, ‘what’s wrong with dairy?’
She looks at me. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I’ll tell you what’s wrong,’ Paul says. I’ve come to expect no less of him. He’s gazing out the cafe window. ‘Dairy cows suffer. I mean, just imagine.’ <i>They graze the sun-kissed grass. My bucket squeaks in the breeze, and a calf looks up at me.</i> He sighs. ‘Poor things, suffering.’
I can only laugh. 'Suffering? They don’t suffer.'
He glares at me in the reflective glass. ‘Actually, they do. I've been to dairy farms—’
'I grew up on one,' I tell him, the self-righteous asshole. Who asked him, anyway?
'Tastes change, sweetie,' she says, stepping between us and handing me the latte. 'What counts is people believe they suffer, and are demanding dairy alternatives.’ Jen’s a business major. Paul, ethics. They met at uni. I study Modern Rural Operations at TAFE.
‘Let’s go,’ Paul says.
'Where are we going?' I say.
Jen smiles. ‘We need you here.'
He strides out; she follows. The door hangs open.
‘So Tara's a farm girl,’ I hear him say.
‘She was,’ Jen replies, ‘until the family business went under…'
As it swings shut, a chill rushes over me. I pour the latte down the sink.

*

A truck pulls up outside. I go out to meet the driver. Shaded by his Akubra, he smiles at me.
'John.' I feel myself smile.
'Tara.' He takes off his hat.
I play the professional. 'Do you need my ID for this delivery?'
'No ma'am, that won't be necessary.’ He laughs.
Seeing my old friend laugh makes me laugh. ‘What have you got for me, mate?'
He opens the back of his truck to a cargo full of boxes. I open one and lift out a carton of Oat.
'Remind me,’ I say. ‘What's wrong with dairy?'
He sighs. 'This is just the way things are going.'
We carry them inside. I pour us some real milk and sit with him at a table.
'Can I ask you something?' I say.
‘Shoot.’
'Do dairy cows suffer?'
He takes a deep sip and looks up at me. I see Matt's face and feel a flash of rage.
'I’ll drive you home,’ he says.

*

For miles we see what everyone sees: cows and sheep graze freely inside barbwire fields, while tractors laze in the evening sun. It reminds me of Arcadia, the painting of a pastoral utopia I hung in the hallway, next to a photo of our family. Humans and animals, living in harmony. With machines.
Our farm is empty. Mr. Walsh turns down the gravel road that leads up alongside it to the house. The paint is peeling, the boards are rotting and I haven't replaced the window.
'Someone's fixing it Monday,' I lie.

[Anonymous No.16203960]

>>16190953
I got another.
https://pastebin.com/0MXF3KHP
this is supposed to be a tense scene.

[Anonymous No.16203987]

>>16203945
fuck paul, seems like a douche.

[Anonymous No.16204016]

>>16203931
You're right I'll fix it, thank you!
I love rhyming words together.

Have any of you ever been published btw?
I wanna be like shel Silverstein and release books for kids, I remember what an influence where the sidewalk ends had on me

[Anonymous No.16204034]

>>16204016
You're welcome.
I'm a published number theorist and a font I designed ended up in a book of fonts, but nothing literary (yet). I also love WTSE, also Light in the Attic.

[Anonymous No.16204834]

None of you cowards commented on my shit again.

[Anonymous No.16205034]

>>16204834
interpret our silence

[Anonymous No.16206105]

>>16203918
I wrote ONE MORE, and I hope you like it. Please critique! It is called: The Sorry Shark.

>Floating through the Ocean
>Come an aquatic friend
>He wants to say he's sorry
>The Great White Beast, the Scourge of Seas
>Would like to make amends

>He wants to say he's sorry
>For all the tears he wrought
>For all the surfers eaten
>For all the pain he brought

>He doesn't want to bite you
>He just wants to reconcile
>Just come a little closer
>And check out his wide SMILE

[Anonymous No.16206120]

>>16206105
NO I MESSED IT UP,

TAKE OUT THE THIRD LINE IT IS SUPPOSED TO COME LATER

[Frater Asemlen !XS8vrClKs2 No.16206175]

I saw this more or less all in a dream last night, so I tried to make a poem of it, I woke up already having the first few lines.

Dream of Another Genesis

“A question from my rest, Who did dream the first dream?
My heart in rest Longs Lord, Was it Adam or Thee?
You are the first in all, Are thou not supreme?

All be your fantasy, you are all that I see
Your mysterious Eyes, closed to unveil the Light
This is the beginning, how the world came from He

when the ancient one spoke, and all was shining bright
did formulate the book, the book of life and death
All to be accomplished, whether in depth or height

Dwell recorded therein, all things touched by thy breath
All but one doth it hold, thou before-endless time
Thou the ever Bornless-one, by whom the worlds were Set

You clapped and cleaved your hands, giving form to the Slime
Pulling past from present, and the future from past
Thus did slime become sand, some specks coarse others fine

In sand was formed small gods, Pillars iron and brass
Then you did rest in dream, you called it the sabbath
The little gods went forth, words and spell did they cast

O wondrous miracle, the birth of great abboth
For the lord did dream again, dream within dream did form
The image of first man, he did you inhabit

Abboth the sleeping King, awoken by the Storm
Rose saying “ I behold, oh thou lord of the Gods
I am thy reflection, the dreamer did transform”

Thus abboth performed dream, Imma the first unrest
He took her for a wife, queen Imma caused the strife
Then did they know each other, the birth of restless men

Then came forth holy Leba, with his mother at odds
He did proclaim the Oath “Abide in dreamless sleep”
Thus he knew mystery, The secret of the Rods

He did behold the spell, their secret hidden deep
Naught but pillars and rods, the small gods of nature
Abboth did they enchant, “dream of imma and weep”

Thus did Leba leave men, he went where dwell no creature
He walked beyond the pillars, piercing hell and heaven
Their image beguile not, he sought entablature

Thus did he find great rest, rest beyond the seven
He did form a priesthood, “we know not, so we rest”
Be their oath of silence, he called forth eleven

Twelve and one fathers sleep, Leba, Nerba, yest
Var, quzi, tzan, os, Pom, seir, zot, chra, Great Tun
And in the center He, the nameless God of rest

Endless boundless great void, brighter than even the Sun
Find our temple of rest, sleep and rest like the One
Come therefore and follow, rest and become his son “

[Anonymous No.16207613]

[Anonymous No.16207813]

My first try at a Sonett or anything that isn‘t free verse really. Please don‘t be gentle.


Where should a heart find comfort in it’s days?
Is not this world too young to ease this ache?
All tenderness is lost and long ablaze,
Soft virtue swallow‘d and but a snake.

Where can a soul still rest and hush?
Gone are the eyes not blotted out,
Gone are the gentle cheeks that blush.
I‘ve searched and am beyond any doubt.

Nonetheless i shall not despair and gloom.
Nor shall i resent or scorn my faith,
i know there comes a time of bloom,
when in abundance i can bathe.

For all that’s pure and worth god‘s grace,
Finds me tomorrow in it‘s embrace.

[Anonymous No.16208118]

The Burning House (translation)

Beyond the lake, the fire burns.
Its sparks fall impassively to the ground
As do the orphan's tears who watches them.
He scampers into the woods,
Into the woods, and listens to the cuckoo sing.

"The garden suffers without an axe," he thinks,
"And I will suffer too without my father.
"The forest suffers without the cuckoo's consoling song
And so will I without my mother."

[Anonymous No.16208348]

>>16168092

The bottle sounds like cracking knuckles when it opens,
The line is near the top,
And I’m happy,
But it’s not a sickly-sweet silver screen happiness,
I don’t have a wife and a dog and house that backs onto a vineyard in southern France,
I’m happy because no one knocked on my door today,
No politicians, or salesmen, or friends that need fixing, or foes that need fighting,
The line keeps ducking down,
And I don’t stay happy long,
But I don’t care,
Happiness is best shared they say, the great all-knowing they,
But what do they know?
Their attitudes are platitudes, and I have half my bottle,
Just under half my bottle,
I don’t need them,
But the line keeps running away from me,
And now it’s kissing the bottom,
And I’m sad,
Only because my bottle is empty you see,
You’ll never see me being sad about anything else,
I’m far too much man for that,
And if I do cry,
Well,
Only the bottle will catch me.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16209907]

>>16203048
I just don’t see people dressing up as nazis, getting off on whips and chains, being shat on, or obsessing over shoes. Free people would be free enough to develop healthier sexual practices

[Anonymous No.16210160]

Excerpt from something very cheesy and pulpy I'm trying to edit. I'm submitting it to a writing competition for high school seniors because I need the prize money for college. Second ever-attempt at anything like this. Tell me if y'all think it's good enough to win some shit for teenagers.

Ending has the guy rotting in a diner. He's the guy who actually killed Kennedy, in the grassy knoll, and he's been totally tossed in the dustbin of history, and technically doesn't exist.

He was in an office, pallid and yellowing at the edges, lit by a bulb dangling from a chain. It smelled like ash and burnt cinnamon. There was a man in front of him, flabby and emaciated, like a skinny bulldog. Suspenders and greased hair and stains on his tie, skin sickly and gray and speckled. The man was warm, though, in spite of himself. His eyes crackled with something. In the corner there was a man dressed head to toe in black, a trilby and sunglasses shrouding a waxy, hairless face that looked like pantyhose pulled over a butternut squash with bright, ketchup-red lips. He had a little rubber ball in his hand that he gently tossed up and down, catching it every time, even though it didn’t look like that at all. Every time he launched it in the air it looked like it was falling down backwards and every time it fell and he caught it it looked like he was tossing it in reverse, a plasticine hand following it down and wrapping each finger around it only to unravel like a spring and fly right back up. The man at the desk spoke.
“So, Mulligan, is it?”
He snapped back to attention.
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s a pleasure. Name’s Jankowski.” The man grinned and outstretched a hand, which was promptly shook.
“Says here you’ve got a sterling combat record - enlisted in Korea as a marksman and got picked up by Dulles’ boys... time in Guatemala, Iran, and a stint in Indo-china.” He stretched the space between the two syllables. “Am I missing anything?”
“Was scheduled to drop into Cuba with 2506, but that didn’t really work out.”
Jankowski gave a grim chuckle. His jowls stirred, tensed and relaxed.
“So, are you aware of the nature of this project?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Means I don’t have to fire anyone. You have any opinions on the president?”
“Kennedy?”
“Yes.” He scribbled something on a notepad that Mulligan couldn’t see.
“No, sir.”
Jankowski looked up. “None?”
“I don’t concern myself with politics too much, sir.”
The man let out a belly laugh. “Me neither, son.” The man in black in the corner was still bouncing the rubber ball.
“How old are you, Mulligan?”
“Thirty in September, sir.”
“Got a wife?”
“No, sir.”
“Parents?”
A pause. “Just a mother, sir.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Dead. The war.”
Another pause. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.”

1/2

[Anonymous No.16210166]

>>16210160

2/2


The lightbulb in the middle of the room went out. Mulligan didn’t flinch, Jankowski spoke.
“One second. Fuckin’ power goes out all the time. You know how wetworks are.” He stepped out of the room. Mulligan heard the rubber ball fall and pit-pat onto the floor, rolling under something. The man in black stood up and bent over, tracing his hand across the ground to find it. Sounded like he did, rather. Mulligan spoke up.
“Do you need any help-”
He was answered with a monotone.
“No. Thanks, though.” A shuffling, and the man sat back down.
The lights came back on. The fellow in the corner had shed his sunglasses, exposing shaved eyebrows and jagged little pupils. He was holding the ball still now. Jankowski stepped back in. “Sorry about that,” he grumbled. “Power goes out all the time. Like I said, funding’s pretty marginal around here, so we’re running a pretty bush-league operation. Good news, though - you seem to be an ideal candidate for our little project here.”
“Sir, I don’t know what the project is.”
“And you won’t. For a while, at least.”
He passed a folder across the table.
“Here’s what you can do for me in the meantime. Ring me up at Langley after, and we’ll get down to brass tacks.”
Mulligan picked up the folder and looked inside. He was to meet with another agent and fake his own death.

I know the whole thing's a bit swift but I have a hard cap on page count.

[Anonymous No.16210175]

I dress like a peacock
I understand prose
So why did my wife kick me from my home

[Anonymous No.16210645]

I only have three sentences. Please tell me whether they're worth expanding upon.

His first, most primal connection, that fosters flesh from nothingness and being from flesh, was a foreign one. He was given comfort, food, and shelter by them, for which he was eternally grateful, but did not receive their name nor their blood. At a young age he realized how dwelling upon the lack of either was dreadfully petty, for they cared not about such things (or if they did, did not act upon it).

[Anonymous No.16210855]

>>16209907
Good point.

"Fetishes" is the only sexuality the masters allow their slaves to have.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » No.16210855,1]

>>16209907
There! How is this allowable? >>16168092

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16211104]

>>16210855
Thank you.

And wtf janny? I even edited out the gore. What hypocrisy.

[Anonymous No.16211111]

>>16211104
No way they deleted yours but not op. I even reported it.

[« Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ » !!oI3er5KKetj No.16211129]

>>16211111
Nice digits

[Anonymous No.16211654]

> The growing pain, still insane, and all that it will bring
> The moony rock, the concrete blocks, for which no one will sing
> Those wasted years, and all those tears, signed by the diamond ring
> A huge mistake, down by that lake, all for that pretty thing
> Won't come undone, the setting sun, the crown dropped by the king

[Anonymous No.16212494]

>>16168184
dare I say based

[Anonymous No.16213056]

sikh kings scuffle and hide it
muscles atrophied at critical myelin
Bodies, taken Souls; they're passive; more wild now
no healing just carbone et carbone of Their strongbox
Lit-eyur-gie Of The Electric
dont call
Pulse (
pulse (
pulse (
blinksnonoNoHesDown)))
tooRoughForMeTwosTwoMuchForMe-
rope of rings wrap predator and squeeze life of his eyes
no buckets but his original vessel could have yet been build large enough to contain his Contents (the byline)
Scoreboard Cash In Hand Soured. (the headline)

maybe next week. (the subscription)

[Anonymous No.16213762]

1/3

We are in a great storm, on a voyage through infinite oceans of time and possibility, stretching all the way to the forgotten past, the unbounded future, and the potentialities of the present which could have been but were forsaken, fortuitously avoided, or whose waters we judiciously navigated. All around the vastness lies the inconceived and inconceivable, compressed onto the horizon and in whose arena we float unmoored and contend with or drown. The skies are lit with lightning, a hazy sun, a blue moon, or the dialectic of the stars which twinkle in mock, jest, and hope, and at the miracle of existence itself. And with such we attempt to navigate, or find fortitude to weather the next cataclysm looming over our ungrounded prospects.

[Anonymous No.16213780]

2/3

And verily does this cataclysm hit; the ship brims from oceans above and oceans below. In mutinous shouts, and unwieldy screams does the vessel begin disintegration and descent. The icy waters are cold and deep; one cannot swim for long. So it is that each fights the other, and the other fights each, over the remains which float as sanctuary islands upon the void. Praise God for the island and curse the rest beyond redemption. Let them freeze now and burn after; it is good. Wait until morning and when the skies clear survey the ruins...

[Anonymous No.16213794]

3/4

Is it gold or waves which glitter on the horizon? What do these seabirds foretell? Do they congratulate or condemn? Should they be followed to the shores or will they circle us back to permanent oblivion? Are those the shouts of men? Do they yell for our names or for our heads? From where does this soft breeze blow? Foul air from foul lands, promise of guiding wings, or a mere nicety of the morning? Does another great storm blow upon us, the first a mere precursor, or does the last ever sail outward to the horizon, the likes of which shall never be seen again? Thus the wood grows hot under the blazing sun and the mouth and head grow dry and thirsty. Calculation be the death of us all, soul, spirit, and unremitting hope. The wreckage islands open up to you like beacons, stepping stones of the Gods; the only way left but true hell. Jump to one now cautiously and now incautiously. Now slower and now faster. Do begin to run across them as you can, to fly if you could, faster, faster, to the horizon; quickly, there are lifeboats beyond! Though they leave behind the dregs and dust, their conscience must shudder at the prospect of life yet moving. Does it not? Why do they go? The breeze is a villain! It carries my voice away to dark horizons! Did I not hear it whisper it’s deceit this morning? Were the gulls not warning? Why do they not stop? To where do they go such that the life of me is best foregone? Was my soul never fit for the kingdoms of the horizon? Come! Tell me it is not so! Tell me it is not a ruse; that I should live and die as a vessel for the better and deserved? Do you hate me so? Stop! I beg of you! Else the moonlit dawn arise and rot your souls you filthy beggars who rob me on the doorstep of my own future; the seabirds come for your eyes and lead you to the foul lands upon which great hopes shall appear fulfilled yet sour and painfully descend into desolation and stench, as such now do mine upon my tongue. Avast! Alas! Never should such a thing come to pass… never and beyond; as it so vanishes on the horizon such do I vanish upon myself and the night come in to take my place upon me…

[Anonymous No.16213806]

4/4

The sloshing of the boards. The moon now bouncing off the barren waters. If one were here it would be a peaceful tyranny; but nobody is here; all left and vanished into the horizon. Was there ever any at all? Only ever cold, stars, breath, and the whispering beckon of the great animus behind these curtains. Come now! Come quietly such as beckoned… sweep from this earthly dream, this seaward slumber; sweep to the unimagined realities which dance behind the eyes. Let the sun and the moon and the stars rain down upon these surface waters, and the dark depths below rise up and plunge above the surface. Let them dance in cosmic merriment and solemnity and the dawning of eternity; as such always should have been, as such always was. See how they dance!

[Anonymous No.16213961]

I would like to fly away to the moon one day;
Blue havens to the grey.
I hear the rocks lie still
For billions of years;
Older, older,
Quiet,
Listening and fast asleep,
Dreams couched in shadow,
Life bounded in sunlight
Which bounces of those solumn silent forms
And shapes the glowing crescent.

Can I sit there on a deck chair,
And take all the time that time does give
To those who sit idle and wonder and turn to stone,
And gaze out into those crystaline dark waters?
Light years,
Light years,
Dark days.

But dark days could not take away these depths to which I gaze.
Alpha centuri’s alpha centuri does meets my eye in a passing glimmer:
A thousand thousand billions lives that live, die, and pass their hours by
And stare up to the starry sky;
Perhaps we catch each others eye?
A flicker of each others torch
In thought that burns once bright,
And dies away now dimmer.

[Anonymous No.16213985]

If you post something of yours, don't forget to criticize others.

[Anonymous No.16214131]

yellow and crest-fallen;
do not retract little Sparrow,
strike and consume
and edify with grace,
ideas of anxious thought

[Anonymous No.16214233]

>>16214131
the last two lines remind me of ginsberg, both in form and content.

[Anonymous No.16214445]

>>16214131
Crestfallen is one word, my man.

[Anonymous No.16214565]

Posted this in the last one right before it died. Here's attempt #2

I walked along the path-- lit only by my headlamp and the scant wisps of moonlight that penetrated the canopy-- and marvelled at the sight of my white breath against the grey fog. I caught a slight shiver, so I clutched my coat tighter about myself and shook my head side-to-side. The trees cast their twisted shadows only when I looked to them. It felt as if I was the center of the universe.

I've always found the world to be so tranquil at night. In the woods. In the city. I didn't care where I was, so long as it was dark and I was alone. Fog or rain was all the better. One thing that I could not abide, though, was heat; I would spend all summer cooped up in my apartment, biding time until Fall weather arrived and I could roam the earth once more. Every year the wait seemed longer and longer.

I was really very happy, although I'm sure I'd have been a sorry sight to any observer. Trudging silently through the dark, my boots squelching in the damp leaves and mud. It wasn't a very long walk, but I treasured each moment.

Before long, I reached it. A clearing. I sat there on the ground, confident that my poncho would keep me dry, and thought for a long time. There was a particular patch of leaves I looked to, and I was quite impressed with how long I managed to sit there, unblinking.

"Hello," I said, to the figure crouched behind me.

"Hello." A masculine voice, almost imperceptibly quiet.

"How are you today?" I was very pleased to hear nary a trace of trembling in my voice.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking."

"I see." I heard the leaves shuffle, and felt the figure's full weight touch the ground behind me.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking," it said.

"I see."

The figure gently leaned back against me. It felt cold, but not unpleasant.

"Are you ready?" It asked.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes."

I leaned back, ever so slowly. It didn't offer any resistance, merely an icy sensation as I passed into it.

It didn't hurt.

It was dark, and I was alone.

[Anonymous No.16214688]

>>16210645
I would read more, anon.

[Anonymous No.16214705]

>>16214131
I second the Ginsberg comparison
>>16214233