Poetry critique thread

That sucked.

Your fixes are justified, but the original actually has a syllabic structure that you sort of ignored

Simian’s Sad Song

History is over

I have a hard time
focusing, sometimes

Late summer rain no
longer means “late summer
rain,” because History is
over, History is
history

But as I was saying,
there was a late
summer rain building
towards what might
be a climax, but …

and there was an
orange light
shooting through the
puddles

I saw her standing
there, only five feet
from me

But that’s the thing
about distances

These days, distances
are all that
matters but they are
defined in multiple
arguments, or attributes
like a line of code

Distances are defined()
in a different way
now that the past
is dead
now that the future
stretches before my
lonely eyes like the
lit-up screens in a
BestBuy

Like the

best bargain in an
empty store full
of
nowhere people

Part 2

That was the year
that I couldn’t
sleep, and also couldn’t
die

Actually it was just
that I realized
I would never get
to attend my own
funeral, therefore
death seemed like
another
bad performance
in a
series
of attention-seeking
acts--draw a straight
line from me squirting
chocolate milk
out of the
sides of my
mouth in middle school
to this maudlin
finale

Also I was scared
as shit
I didn’t want to live
particularly, with this
dull throb, but
I also couldn’t
pull the
trigger

Hell, i was scared

enough shooting
at paper targets
Muzzle-flash and
force , demons
summoned singed
and air-rending

When you shoot,
the air is out of
place, the street
is in yr house, the
wheel is frozen
in midair--yr heart
is chrystallized

That smell is like
the goddamned
Devil leaving
a tracer round
in a cig

Everyone ducked

And me, I had a
guide, he firmly
grabbed my hands,
guided my grip,
showed me where
and when to
pull

Everybody moved

"Sadly" isn't supposed to make you feel sad. It's intentionally emotionless to make the worms' death sound insignificant. Death is supposed to be sad, but these deaths are sad enough to create a genuine feeling

4. (post-script)
I hate
you,
for not
having the
strength to
hold the rope--
or not
loving me
enough
You could have
at least
supported me
leaving this
world, you left
me
not-hanging

I welcome
the hate
you stir in
me, it’s like a
communion
Burn through
me again
and again
Clench and
unclench me,
leave me
holding the
broken rope,
staring into the
mirror, waiting
for a lover
who could
end me,
wading in the
white noise
of the edge
of my mind,
the liminal
space taunting
me like a
schoolyard
poet

aren't*

This reminds of a rap song or something that's meant to be read out loud. Really pronounced end rhyme like this sounds funny on paper. Was this meant to be spoken?

Yeah, it's for a song. Probably hip-hop, but who knows it's just a first draft.

i'm sure you're a good writer, but this seems painfully anachronistic..
just my take

Well, my only critique is to avoid using words ending in "tion", they're too easy to rhyme with and people usually see it as a sign that the writer is inexperienced.

The money tree

Someone gave me a money tree.
I planted it a few blocks away.
Everyday I must tend to my money tree,
hoping it grows big and wide and makes me rich.

But caring for the money tree is not a simple task.
Sunlight and water do not nourish it.
Only blood, gasoline, sweat, and tears make it grow.
And those things don’t always come cheap.

Plus everyone is trying to steal from my money tree.
It’s small and pathetic right now,
but hey, money is money.
So I had to build fences around it, and keep guard all day.

Now I sit around surrounded by barbed wire,
with the smell of blood, gasoline, sweat, and tears in the air.
Every once in a while the greasy old tree coughs up a 20,
and I run to the corner store to buy fresh gas and syringes.

Why is this even poetry? It's a fair idea but the bluntness is overwhelming, it adds some amount character but is unpleasant. The third stanza is really off putting.

Liturgy

The night she died,
I took a walk
down
along the old
riverbed--
alluvial plain,
accumulation
of ages
A flock of starlings
exploded
from the brush
like
confetti
as if to say
“You did this, you
made it!”

Thank you kindly

An original erotic American poem:

the garlic rocket with the larks porn,
and until the monitor his band make attert,
Verschlug scents, the broom flowering from your hips.
the stalk the hair in the hexen-ei the testicles
obsessed by swallow Wurz and Mrs shoe,
at the hem of the fire, where with red lips
to light with a firm grip and sharp turns
is able to dazzle your rulers
blow in the glut of ash fuzz umflattert
prunken white in the office of the eagle boys
made from fresh sources of supply your born

Is this a new trend to write lines of only one or two words ? It looks horrendous, just write one block and call it prose, that'll be better for anyone who's supposed to read it.

Huh. Extremely blunt. I didn't think it was bad though. Weird. I'd like to read something else of yours

I did this when I was in tenth grade. It's a sign that the writer doesn't actually understand how to write poetry and think that random breaks=poetry regardless of content or flow

Here's another fairly recent one:

-A room to chat in-

I propose Halloween therapy.

We all sit in a room wearing masked costumes,
and talk.

We can be anonymous and wholly truthful, just like on the internet.

We can discuss our anger, fear, and strange desires,
with a human voice,
instead of sad, lonely words on a screen.

I’d dress up as a plague doctor,
and read a little poem called “run red with blood,” which goes like this:

"There was a ginger nurse who went by the name, “Red.”
One night, a man was losing a lot of blood after a bad car crash,
and Red ran down the hall with the new blood,
and the people in the hospital said, “Run, Red. Run.

The end.”

And the other people in the therapy group would clap their costumed hands, and say,
“Congrats on being such a wretched, hopeless being.”

“Thanks, guys,” I’d say. “Thanks for listening. It means a lot.”

Then the girl with a Richard Nixon mask would explain how she has fallen out of love with her fiance, and she doesn't know how or if she should end it before it’s too late.

The dude dressed like Gandalf, with a big bushy beard, would talk about the time he slapped his friend with a greasy piece of pepperoni pizza after a night of heavy drinking, and they got into a fistfight, and now they don’t talk anymore. And it makes him very sad that a piece of greasy pizza ruined a great friendship.

And the soft spoken guy in a cat costume would tell us how, as if by some cruel and twisted joke of the universe, he was sexually attracted to birds.

We would all congratulate each other for being strong despite our problems. We’d say, “It’ll get better. It’ll get better.”

And we’d walk out of the room as costumed strangers. “See ya next time, cat guy,” I’d say. “Take it easy, Gandalf.”

And we’d go home, pluck the keys off our computer, and eat them for dinner.

I’d go to the hospital in my spare time dressed like a plague doctor. I’d stand there and drink coffee, whispering softly, “Run, Red. Run.”

I saw him on the Silk Road
With a camel at his feet
On his for forehead lay a toad
Basking in the heat

I asked him what he's selling
"Everything" he said
The finest produce from Beijing
From the east down to the west

Then I swear the toad stood up
And offered me embrace
He lifted up a bejewelled cup
And poured liquid down my face

He croaked to me the tempting deal
I really had no choice
Everyone must some day steal
When finding their own voice

I don't think that I took to much
Hopefully enough
It really isn't theft as such
Unless you use a crutch

Here's one I whipped up quick for this thread :

Let us write a birthday song for the unborn son
Nameless and faceless, yet just another person
Unworthy of a future, chance without a chance
No more than a flickering light in the distance
Alas, what could have been, we are left to ponder
As the tapestry of life is torn asunder
And nothing is revealed inside the long fracture
But a sea devoid of life and full of failure

The ocean soon became an unfertile land
When the waters dried up, leaving nothing but sand
Deserted landscapes as far as the eye can see
Perhaps a fitting scene for your last odyssey
But there is no hand to guide yours through this journey
Alone you stand, and all of it seem so phoney
Waiting for a sign that is bound never to come
You look at eternity and know the outcome

Give or take nothing, for nothing here has value
Men have long deserted this land and so shall you
Let the howling winds push you back inside your home
As this earth was never destined for you to roam
Gently, ever so gently, close your sleepy eyes
Slowly, ever so slowly, calm those teary cries
Go to sleep now and think nothing of this treason
Let it be a birthday song for the unborn son

I like writing limericks on the train.

There was an old man of Dunfermline
Who proposed to a lady named Lynne
Yet she chose to decline
For he reeked of stale wine
That smelly old man of Dunfermline

There was a young man of Dalmeny
Who never dared part with a penny
For his dinner he ate
Moths and dust off his plate
That stingy young man of Dalmeny

The was an old chap of Markinch
Who grew all his nails to an inch
When he plucked his guitar
The sound travelled far
That clever old chap of Markinch

There was an old hag of Rosyth
Who cut het son's hair with a scythe
When he let out a scream
The police intervened
That wicked old hag of Rosyth

Tucked into her palm,
And held by in that divine warmth
Never to be budged,
But by deer and chipmunk on occasion.
The wise, creaking fingers of Our Mother
Tip toe through his hair,
The aspiring Hermit's lair
The lonesome, sighing shed.
Too tired for decoration,
Preserved only by,
The missing cursory glance,
Of workers that pass,
And the darkness that begs the wood's brooding.
If I hadn't been dizzy and snooping,
The beast might have slept!
His furniture still unkept,
Lovers would never dwell,
Providence has left me a tomb.

Thanks user. Do you mind expanding on your point at all?

desu you're right... i've been ok at prose poems and short fiction but never really known how to do enjambment right.
ualr.edu/rmburns/RB/levline.html
i remember reading this in the only poetry workshop i ever took, it helped some

how would you break that up?

When I lie awake at night
a fire of sadness will start up inside me
it would burn me with dread and pity
fueled by my action and my thoughts
all I wanted was for it to stop

In order to achieve this
was for the fuel too run out
so I thought and burned
every action that appalled me
every thought that disgusted me
every moment that angered me

With every thing that i burned
there was only one constant
me

For every action I preformed
every thought belonged to me
and every moment was caused by me

For it was me who started this fire
and it is me who will be burned

I like this. I would consider, though, removing "along" from "down along the old riverbed"

An old riverbed implies that the river's been diverted, and that it's dried up. That's reinforced by the following use of "alluvial". So, walking down the old riverbed already implies that you're walking along it (down towards where the river meets the sea, along that gradient).
But by having "down the old riverbed" it suggests more strongly the idea of walking into an actual river side-on, given the down/drown link, where the "old" in "old riverbed" becomes a more colloquial " ol' ".
Having that greater emphasis introduces better the idea of a suicide by drowning in response to the woman/girl's death, or a metaphorical drowning through grief, or a detached numbness of the senses in response to that kind of loss, where you feel under water.

If

"I took a walk
down
the old
riverbed"

feels too sparse, maybe add "drowse" so you have

"I took a walk
down
drowsed the old
riverbed"

as then you have a drown/down and drowse/dowse/douse thing going on. Drowse for the out-of-mind feeling, dowse for the looking for water in dried up places, douse for added wateriness.

My only other comment is to consider swapping the words in the last two lines so that it's

"You did it, you
made this!"

Both ways suggest an element of guilt, but "you did it" suggests it more strongly.

"dowsed" might be a better fit than adding "drowsed", actually.

No dogs go to Heaven

user, i actually meant this not to allude to suicide. haha every other thing i've written alludes to suicide but this was supposed to be like one of those zen poems of realization,
freedom from grief, letting go , or something like that.

the riverbed is dry. nobody drowned.

Dan, lo! even unto Beer-sheba
a trumpet sounds,
verily, verily I say unto thee,
if the eye offends,
dash it against the rocks
forthwith, despising the eye wronging thee,
offending not the least,
suffer the little children
to come unto me,
ere you fall into sin,
reprobate,
without natural
affection,
loving the creature more than the creator,
liars!
Absalom! O Absalom, my son, my son,
consumed with mine own heart I say,
empty, the rich whom he hath sent away.

Unforgiven

Under frozen skyes I've met you,
Filled your eyes with tears and hate.
On the quay we stand together,
Black dispair come our fate.

For his death you blame me,
Lost your love in ocean waves,
For his life, that I've taken,
For my silence kept for years.

Under frozen sky we're stading,
Touch my scary beauty, don't you fear?
After all we are together:
Crying girl and submarine.

Please, please listen to me!
My heart, as yours, was broken.
One fate, one life we lived,
No word will left unspoken.

Man and machine, true love story, he'd ever dream!
We were living our lives on the edge.
Man and machine, my uranium heart belonged to him,
We'd stay togethter until our end!

All for brave one: thousands horses in his steel hands,
Every mile I remember we sailed.
My stainless hull still needs to feel him once again,
Only one, I could never forget.

Darkest abyss I was breaking,
And steel tragedy began,
Single tube that started leaking,
Leading me to the meltdown.

Understanding, I was dying,
Rising temperature deep in,
"Understand me?", I was crying,
"Death I carry deep within!"

He refused to leave me alone!

For only one, I have trusted my life, so fragile!
My bleeding heart, my uranium core was melting!
Man and machine, facing death, hand in hand, together,
All or nothing, flame of passion, will shine forever!

Please, save my drying life,
Alarm, your hear, is screaming.
Once mighty, now I need your love,
Until explosion sinks me.

Save me! Cool melting core.
You feel my pressure falling.
Save me! Open the door!
You see my gauges dancing.

Unleashed!
Once setting me in motion, breeding flame comes deadly!
All that I need - your love,
Passion and devotion!
Under stormy ocean dance with death we sharing!
My heart you have to flood!

Heal me, your time has come, you know, my fever's fatal...

Come in!
Tear my steel innocence, cut and weld my beauty!
Steel hands to take my heart!
Spreads three petal blossom,
Radiation burns you, finishing your duty,
Saving me from blast!

Blazing your welding arc, burning your life, I'm taking!

Till the last moment, till the last breath,
Felt loving heart was stopping to beat.
Burned him my deathrays, dead in my hands,
One and the only, I'll never forget! - Scary and frigting the price!

Playing the dead March wailing my horn,
Crying and bleeding, facing death toll!
Screaming and roaring, calling his name!
Buring, releasing to leaden waves! - Curse me, I've taken his life!

Alone I came, having no one else to fulfill me,
My heart was changed, my second youth I live unforgiven.
Within my hull, chained forever his spirit will be,
My wound still hurts, for my first love I once lost in abyss.

See you a woman, not submarine?
Feel my heart bleeding, flaming within!
Here we are standing, under moonlight,
Nothing but sorrow, filling my eyes.

Please, take my salty kiss!
Your name and mine - his last words.
Last kiss, from gory lips,
A last goobye, I've brought you.

Still miss and wait I for his voice saying "Full ahead!"
No more to say, I told this tragic story to the end.
I still regret, still carry burden, I'm guitlty for his death,
Widow I am, still unforgiven with tears undrying on my face.

Please forgive me...

Dude, that's tough : taking the example of , I supposed I'd write it like that :

I hate you.
For not having the strength to hold the rope.
Or not loving me enough.
You could have at least supported me leaving this world.

You left me not-hanging.

I welcome the hate you stir in me - it’s like a communion:
Burn through me again, and again
Clench and unclench me,
Leave me holding the broken rope,
Staring into the mirror, waiting for a lover who could end me,
Wading in the white noise of the edge of my mind,
The liminal space taunting me - like a schoolyard poet.

Makes it easier to read, keeps an uncommon rythm. But I'm not quite sure it would then mean the same as the author meant, I've tried to accentuate what I felt had the most impact, but maybe I've got it wrong.
Btw, it's not quite prose, more like free verse, because prose would be just one block in the case of this example.

This. Yes. "Shit" just isn't a very good word. Feels forced to be "MUH edgy nu-70s revival poet"

Sludging the wetted soils
You'll tweak neck to see them work
Nestling and re-nestling their fruits
Of labour and you crawl

And the dirt parts for you
The work and worker die with it
The poor mother worms too
If you knew of them, split by shovel

Pant legs smelling of worm shit
You leave a gift to the flowers
Before the early birds eat the splitten are aware
Know we are bound to shovel

>ftfy

ignore the last line, should have been "We are bound to shovel", I got caught between two ways to end it and went with the OP - Just forgot to correct it

I saw a little nigger
Sitting in the street
I saw a little nigger
Looking out at me
Then the police saw the nigger and there wasn't none to see,
For the cops shot him up in the morning.

>Everything I'm not commenting here is either garbage or above me and I can't pretend I'll know what I'm talking about
>You get to decide which your poem falls under if you didn't get a (You).
I love the idea, but I feel you've made too much effort in making something that sounds good, rather than builds a picture.
Listen to
youtu.be/LTaMPkdOE1c?t=51m10s
and try again, I'd love to see it complete
But user... I pronounce "Lynne" as "Lin"
Guess it's an English thing.
What are the syringes for? I hate open-ends.
Are you a druggie? Is it because of this world you live in? Is the tree not a tree but veins instead? AAAAAAAAAAAAGHH I hate but love it. Very interesting.
Same advice as I gave You get an honourary (You) for just shitposting, enjoy

>>ftfy

There's a difference between tweaking a poem to improve the flow and help tease out otherwise buried layers of meaning, and significantly altering it according to your own, very different vision.

Eh, I didn't like either OP or the fixed post, so made it anew. I felt I kept it mostly the same, just with more atmosphere and better wording. Oh well, call it a fork if you must.

Grey cirrus clouds wisp and sift across dim dawn's daybreak--
some soft exhale slipping a still tongue 'low starry eyes.

Well the main motif of the original is the Fall of Man, i.e. the edge of the garden you've just been expelled from, worms being analogous to snakes, man and creature being forced to toil, and mothers "split by a shovel" being Eve having to birth children to work the land.

Your version guts basically all of that.

Dunfermline is pronounced as if there was no 'e' on the end.

The Muslim
He destroyed New York
No
NO
The Patriot Act

>No dogs go to Heaven
No, dogs go to Heaven

[citation needed] unless you're OP

Umm tropes as old as the Fall of Man are so heavily ingrained in western culture that OP may not even have been consciously intending it.

MUH university English intellectual
>string meanings together
>asked how you strung them together
>"because it's common"
No offense, I like your enterpretation, but I just don't see it. Sounds like you're building a sandcastle: sure you can take all these little granules and make them stick, but it'll get washed out because the base just wasn't there... Big if (your enterpretation is) true, but I doubt it.

Let's agree to disagree

Where the fuck did you get this polar bear? I made this as part of an agreement for paid work, but I didn't get shit out of it. Now who the fuck gave it to you?

Mermaid

See you sailing middle ocean,
Day by day I'm watching you.
Underwater in composure
I am waiting for fullmoon.

Under daylight I'm helpless
Diving deeper, deeper down,
Deadly Abyss embraces me,
Gently petting pressure hull.

In shining latex I am dressed
As cold as ice is my embrace!

Rising under onset of night!

I, black Mermaid made of steel,
Your every turn I feel.
Now, you have no chance to hide,
Tracing you are my empty eyes -
As accurate as optic sight!

See you through reticle
You, the only one,
I have chosen tonight.
Passion flame inside me
Waiting my command.
I am ready to fight.

Slashing salty water, running at full thrust,
Flying underwater, body full of lust.
Burning uran pellets, howling my turbines,
Spinning my propellers, having no limits!

In shining latex I am dressed
My combat course - my lusty dance!

As deadly as torpedo blast
Passionately kiss of my lips!
My sexy body full of lust
As sensitive as sonar is!
Firing all bow tubes at once
Seconds I'm counting to bliss.

Torpedo salvo reached the aim;
Tremendous thunder, wall of flame!

Shaking is my body, feeling every blast.
Fire ball is rising, tearing shades of night!
See you through reticle, cracking sinking hulk,
Fire devours bodies, my lips tasting blood.

Bow and stern - all my dirty wishes that lay between!
Flaming sea - spilling oil, fire, blasts and screams!

Hard to port! Double turn! Full ahead!
Until sunrise I will fade away!

Wet body's shining in moonlight,
Exhausted, torn, I close my eyes.

For only mission I was born:
For demolition, kill and burn!
The slut makeup and blood lipstick
Icecold embrace and flaming kiss!
When taste of blood I stop to feel,
My burning lust will be unleashed!
In shining latex I am dressed
My glassy eyes are searching prey!

As frightful as the grin of Death,
As beautiful as Venus face!

I, black Mermaid made of steel,
Another prey I need!
Stream of passion tearing out,
As deadly as torbedo blast -
Striking my unleashed lust!

We, the Mermaids, made of steel!
We, the submarines, the Fleet!
We, run with the shades of night!
Tracing you are our empty eyes,
As accurate as optic sight!

In shining latex I am dressed
As cold as ice is my embrace!
As frightful as the grin of Death,
As beautiful as Venus face!

Razordance

Pilot(P) Miku
Bomber(B) Luka

/Air-strike alarm/

B: I feel all alone,
Plays afterglow,
With reflections on my skin,
On the airfield I'm standing,
Waiting for a spark ingniting,
Powerfull and mighty, flaming heart and take off!

/Latin intro, Fznamznon trumpet/

P: You, my only passion, you, my sweet obsession,
The one I never, never was dreaming before! You!
B: Let me hear your jackboots shrieking over scorched and burned ground,
Let me feel your hands on body, cause I'm warming, trembling wild!

P: You, my love and lady, you, my deadly weapon,
Wailning stainless dragon I fully belong! You!
B: Crimson roses - flaming flowers shining bright on my black wings,
Come on time, my girl, my lover, waiting you on airfield!

P: You, my lovely demon, you, my drug, my venom,
Your tremendous power, that takes to cloud nine! You!
Take me to flaming horizont, to the eye of firestorm, into the battle!
Leave thin red line behind us, pass the point of no return, to dance of metal!

Run up black strip and take off, your acceleration's petting my slim body!
B: Here we are! In flames and fumes!
P: For this moments we are living our short and risky lifes!

B: Jet streams, my streams of passion, deep into the scarlet sky we coming closer!
Both: Here we are! To kill and burn!
We together seeking dangers to ingnite our empty eyes!

As we have no return!

/latin solo begins/

B: Give me, my love, full throttle,
For the flaming hurricane to spin winthin me!

See! Shinig darts of silver, under gory sunset, taking off the angels!
See! Flaming hearts, ten soliders, far behind the skyline, making up the defence!
Feel! Anything I'm ready, anything you tell me, for this moment I'm living!
Feel! In my titanium breast, spinning wailing beast, and you have to unleash it!

Both+back voc: Air alarm we dancing,
P: Never, never I've heard a sound more lovely.
Both+back voc: We'll penetrate the defence,
B: Between shell bursts we will find the way to come in!

P: One versus ten, I know my game is deadly,
B: But, I'm in your hands,
Both: Trusting each other, fight until the end! - Into the flaming hell!

P: Feel my hands, hear my voice, into fishnet lace and roses you're painted!
Flying your dress - your vapour trace!
Shinig black wings, scary grace and lusty kisses. /whisper/
B: Give ingnition to my liquid jets, my boosters! /whisper/

Two firestreams, breaking four times the speed of sound,
We, stand on the brink, the overload is near to smash our bodies, now
We start our flaming dance!

B: Crossing the swords, no mercy,
See projectiles rush ahead, and foes are falling one by one!

Fire! For your lust and passion, for your sweet obsession, for your empty eyes I'm fighting!
Death! Every mission chasing, every mission waiting, every mission deceiving!
Dance! Under summer skyes I pet you, over shining rapier, lusty dance that we are sharing!
Smoke! Like a dress is flying, hear my jets crying, on the brink we are standing!

P: Part of you, have no choice, you the one, you are the only I would stay in!
B: Blood's pouring down - they burn to dust!
P: Another target I'm approaching, launching missiles!

B: You are my love! You're pulling up!
P: Over razors we are dancing under flaming sunset skyes!
B: Dot on radar! One left to fight!
One of us will die in battle, one of us will hit the ground!

P: One left of ten, I know my game is deadly,
B: But, I'm in your hands,
Both: Trusting each other, fight until the end! - Into the flaming hell!

P: Under sunset! Final duel!
B: Like a century ago we dancing to the srings of machine guns!
I reached my aim! I see the blast!
The last victim for tonight exploding falling ball of fire.

/latin solo ends/

F: Touching the airstrip, squealing,
P: Feel my heart still running fast, my hands are shaking!

Petting your body, kissing,
Painting new ten roses on your mighty breast,
I am so tired and fullfilled!

Both: Here we are! Together stand!
Fighting back to back we're dancing over razor shining bright!
Here we are!

The patriarchal institution
Census scam
When they ask if I
Am a woman or a man
I tell the man I am
A man
That is not
A man
My ploy, part
and parcel, planned
Affective, grand
The bigots know not
What I am

This polar bear has been on Veeky Forums for a long time

My boss took the assets and didn't pay for it.

breathing in the cool air
nothing else on my mind
the fractures and the skyline
the lights up in your hair

knocking on your door, late night
looking on the decks below
something calls to me outside
and says that i must go

and i know that when my big day comes
youll back me up
and ill be sailing free down the line
i just hope i know its time

so gone that i cannot help
to fawn my way down the path
anyway out is fine with me, god
but you ought to ring your bells

for ill be in the belfry now
up around your arms
and let me in your kingdom come home
to lands where she must run

and you know that when the big day comes
ill be far
away from here
for you, i'd sob a thousand times
but i can never see you here again, ohh!
and that makes me down and out
down and out these days
come around

most posters confuse poetry with songwriting. not that songwriting isn't a type of poetry--but it's clear, when someone's writing a poem thinking their words are elegant when their rhythm is punchy and rock-music like, that no consideration was taken as to how the piece is read and experienced compared to the work put into it. cooperation is when art is most sublime and what proves an artist knows their medium.