Critique Thread

A festering errata
Chafes in my heart
And knots at my throat
They see it through my eyes
The Nigger
Eyes
Apprehend me, a criminal
Every gaze, I’ve robbed
A perjury of value
My experience
Just wasn’t meant

pastebin.com/LiULcD0u

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As a parody of purple prose it's well written. Otherwise, no one wants to read anything they begs to be given a fuck about, which this does. Pretty talk is fun but at some point throw the reader a fucking bone. Why should anyone give a shit about what you have to say? If you can't make that clear in a couple of sentences, it's not worth reading.

Seems like this was fun to write
>gravy flooded my lower half making me look pregnant
>became unstoppable in my secret stance
I watched the whole thing, I enjoyed it, but I don't have much to offer in terms of criticism.

First line of my short story.
>Rob Holliday Solicitors was a small, boutique operation that specialised in child sex offences.

Would you read more?

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It's just me on the train; people don't come out this late in the middle of the work week. My phone was dead like it always seemed to be; battery life just keeps getting worse.
As the lights wash over the tunnel hundreds of wriggling worms dart into the darkness, some attached to a furry little ass, and others presumably so but you never know.
The view is all that keeps me from tearing my hands apart. Without distractions my mind gets frantic. I've meditated once and the focus was a soothing high, though in total zen all I could think about was a cigarette.
Peculiar how in that state it was obvious that the thought was not my own. It struck me as absurdly amusing. When my mind is at peace I need my fucking smokes.
Above the seat across from mine is an advertisement for a new sitcom. Pictured is a smiling African American family, and a black cat cradled in the arms of the youngest daughter, with the words "The Badluck Browns" written in big bold letters beneath them. While I won't be tuning in Wednesday evenings at 6 my gut tells me it'll be a smash hit.
Before I can turn back to watch the rat race the train grinds to a halt signaling me to stop watching and start running.

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Trite rythym

I have bounded palms by divine cohesion?

I like it though bud

>I have bounded palms by divine cohesion?
This is so much better than cum on his hands

thanks man glad you enjoyed it

What a retarded criticism

Yeah man! If i were you, I would try my best to avoid colloquial speak like sticky or glue. Glue is fine, but when you say divine glue, sounds a little silly.

Anymore stuff?

yeah my shit is always filled with cliche, gotta be more vigilant about it. youtube.com/watch?v=_zBrM1XiXRQ I've got this too that I like which is shorter

Yeast of Pan

This is the yeast of Pan
this is your time of death
and fight on ever more
just for the taste of breath

the turning of a wheel
unwinding of a spring
there is no meaning there
but what you choose to sing

this is your destined fate
the time that you ascend
a taste of joy and woe
the time of your own end

so keep on fighting more
though no ones left alive
and keep on fighting for
the passions that you strive

this is your time of dawn
why do you breath in deep
for what else do you fight
what reason else you keep?

good men are killed in youth
the moment of their prime
your heart moves you onwards
until your destined time

and no eternal tale
of city of your birth
will last beyond your home
all buried under earth

so keep on fighting for
the beating of your heart
the passion of your soul
possessed by Cupid's dart

This is the yeast of Pan
this is your time of death
and fight on ever more
just for the taste of breath

anonslibrarylit.wordpress.com/2018/03/27/i-did-a-do/

Don't mind the pepes i just like the poorly drawn aesthetic

I'll check it out later;
wanna read a little something I wrote?

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That's pretty hardcore, I like it though. I have no right to judge stuff like that though I read very little poetry.

For a writing assignment I had to imitate DFW. Let me know what you think
pastebin.com/CfZFf0gh
I liked it, very good theme of the "cycle" of life expressed in a consistent tone. Though I think your commitment to a regular rhyme scheme hampers you a bit. My advice would be to experiment with different styles.

thanks man;

I wanna show the "Jesus in the temple" that so many Christians have forgotten. Praise Christ that He loves us and wants to save us, but it seems we've neglected the severity of sin.

Like, I dont wanna completely forget the loving and warm message, but many—as Christians—have forgotten that this is no light matter

just cooked this up for fun

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This post is a shitpost, but I want a critique anyway.

phenomenal

I tried to deconstruct the meaning of posting on Veeky Forums. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

>be me
>see critique thread
>ignore everyone's posts and post my own
>care only about myself and constantly seeking validation
>give nothing back
>mfw I'm the realest writer of you all lmao

"Elegy of the Hands"

We lay down our tired bodies
To walk along the painted shores
Of ancient existence, of rotting

And returning to the soft snores
The breast's chorus, its rise and fall
And loud raps against its door

Which is latched for ever and to all

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The prose was collective of all anonymity of Veeky Forums yet it was so pure in action of being an umbrella that could encompass all thought in Veeky Forums. Superb.

You're over thinking it.

was wondering if you were religious. I see the point of the poem now, it's interesting I'd read some more.

Unironically smiled, even if it was facetious.

Its really silly that the kids dont care about a dead person. Then it gets absurd when he wants to kill them all.

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This was utter trash. Try again.

I was joking.

really makes you think...

You both need to tone it down if you're gonna make it in this town.

Check'd

Where’s the piano come from? Like this a lot.

This is great. Diction is odd but in the best way.

Garbage

Yeah man, ill post some more later. On my phone right now

How could it be facetious if the first post was a joke lol

Syntactical assault prose. Syntacticool. Syntactihell. This is why I want to eradicate the legacy of David Foster Wallace. When you lose control of the verbs and subjects by the 30th word of the sentence you are not stylizing you are rambling. I can barely tell who is doing what, where they are doing it, and the memory-laden intertwine is a hairball not a tapestry. All of which leads me to the real conclusion is that if you hide all the reasons why I should care, then I can't.

You probably want an example.

" It’s placid, the whole thing, very usually placid with all kinds of colors and violence and N.L’s placid face and loud, tuned out fans that race against the heat-loving circuits and wires that N.L expensively one summer put together when the money he had been saving, he found out belatedly, would no longer be of use in the same way he thought it would be, the so called Hemorrhoid Happening."

>It's
The pronoun requires a referent from the prior sentence. No chance. Hour? Swivel? Day? Wall? I'm already lost and this is sentence two. First word.

>the whole thing
Which means that I now have no idea what any of this description is referring to. Whatever it is that is placid with colors and this guy's face remains a mystery, including how whatever it is has the agency to produce noise.

>fans....money
This is an English tiger trap called the conflicting rules of primacy and recency. It's a grammar thing. One of those nouns "[comma] would no longer be of use." The clause is ambiguous. By the rule of primacy, which means use the first noun mentioned, the "fans" would no longer be of use. But other, equally fussy and white haired authorities insist on the rule of recency, which means attach the last noun, which means the "money" would no longer be of use. And the reason it's a conflict is because unless the writer is aware that an ambiguous case cannot be resolved without mind-reading powers, it ends up like this - another eternal mystery.

>Hemorrhoid Happening
Which now means that your BIG REVEAL falls into a black abyss of oblivion because I have no idea what the sentence is trying to tell me up to this point. In fact, since I've been flailing since word one, the whole thing might as well be in Chinese.

That's not a critique, user.

Oh too, not really a poem, a piece of prose rather

YesRead something else to cleanse your brain of DFW. His style can be very sticky.

Christ. . . GET ON WITH IT.

Why do beginners always rush into purple when they're still so green? Take it easy

Probably not. The first sentence is just that. Doesn't have to be a tantalising headline, and when it is often it's a gimmick.

From the beginners perspective I think it is the desire that is the lust that is to say the avidity to cover the white shame of an empty page. How many years ago I would stumble and stutter my way through essays and papers getting rewarded for using big words and speaking 100% english throughought my assignments. In a way, we've all been reborn as demons.

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You don't get bored of that same-same style in all critique threads?

X walked over to Y, that shining place that I'll tell you was special. Now I'll say with another breathe how certain things are at work, I'll bring you down one level with a descriptor, and finish the second sentence with that third comma. About now X decides to speak, he said Time to talk in McCarthy-esque frankness. Truly? Yes. And as this paragraph comes to a finish I will extend the bounce and let you follow what I have to say so that the story can start to open up a bit. I end with something short.

This one was at some asian-fusion retro bar,
She sat with her legs crossed hands in lap.
I asked her if she had the time
When she smiled and looked down she saw her watch had gone missing!

My face surprised painted a destroyer--
‘Let’s find it! We have no time to waste!’

A small child running in circles,
Als das Kind Kind war

Just like everything I think,
My feelings were disjointed
The minute hands on her clock flew,
But we were yet to find it

Do you know that feeling at the end of the night,
When everyone parts ways with hugs,
Or maybe just a wave and exclamation,
Or maybe just dismissal without eye contact?

Oh god, and the next day,
When you lay in bed criss crossing the ways she existed there
The way she smiled? The way she felt?
Do you lay in, lazy sundays, the thought of her,
Pure, innocent thoughts that only lead way to
The destroyer within us all

But this one lost her watch,
And I hadn’t the time nor intentions
To keep her from looking,
So so simply,
I let her on her way.

The plane went into the air and did a buncha loop de loops before the pilots apologized and said he was incredibly intoxicated, the message trying to be portrayed here is the detrimental effect that alcohol has on your life, just one day spent drunk can cause it to spiral out of control… deep.

holy... really makes you think, but it also really makes you feel...

Quick critique anyone?

kinda enjoyable, reminds me of something from GR

I will only read the works of beginners if they are written in rhymed meter. Otherwise, I won't waste my time.

Show me you have mastered the technique first, then we can talk about your complex and totally new (yeah...) philosophical world view with all of its divine glue.

Write a rhymed sestina using fine, old, perfectly variated iambic pentameters or else go to a street corner, drop your saggy fat pants, shit on a bucket and eat it. No second alternative. Do it.

Thanks fella

Might I ask, who is GR?

A gift from Heaven
dropped like octohedral
crystal tears

A seed planted deep in the mind
bloomed into the soul of man

A dream emerged from Eden
as we slowly stood from all fours

We crossed the threshold
We fell to Earth

thoughts?

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pastebin.com/9T8Yc4Ly
Nice. Not super original subject matter but very well executed
Very striking

thank you! i was so nervous to post. This was written in anger, about anger.

I read through yours and I think it could benefit from a first-person narration. Also, the concept of a lonely, pathetic eighth grader still being lonely and pathetic, years later, shouldn't take up so many lines

god's glue, now half off on purchases over $30

Good stuff mate. Maybe a little too vague, in that it comes off as very deliberate. I liked it.

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Thank you so much! I don't understand what "too vague, comes off as very deliberate" means, can you explain or rephrase it?

I looked up katzenklavier...Very nice...

here's something else

I mean anyone is free to read it too

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Unused baby shoes for sale.

nice assonance bro

it's a hypothetical thought to help envision how sound travels "along" a curved wall

can you explain as if you're talking to a girl

tired sleepy drowsiness
the undefeatable fow
once again has breached my walls
keeping from me my
inspiration and enthusiasm
and if you fight you'll have
the greatest and grandest
helen of troy, the virgin islands
a war worth fighting
honestly or dishonestly
good and bad
but it can't be won
we all succumb
sleep will reign
would be fain
to fight another day
a ritual eternal
the fatigue great fear
insomnia
the shellshocked frenchman
max jacobs wanders paris
a good soldier
doing his duty

slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2014/06/the_acoustics_of_eavesdropping_how_curved_ceilings_and_walls_redirect_and.html

have to get it out of your system

This stuff is nice user, but why is there a comma before "Oedipus". Your punctuation is strange.

I kind of like the last few lines, the beginning is just miserable to read through, when friends send me this kind of shit I want to choke them. Please for the love of god don't do this to publishers or your editors at all

your prose is superior to most who post their schlock here, its nothing special and I'd much rather read something clean like Celine or Kafka than this unsteady rattling

Thanks buddy

I put a comma there because I referred to a king who's name is Oedipus.
I read it like: "like the king(well which king?) [pause cuz of the comma] Oedipus"
sounds like: "I am the the protector of this town, Sir Lancelot." or "And of this town, I am the blacksmith, Thomas."

I can change it, but I like it read that way. though it's not skin off my teeth if I just say king oedipus as a title instead.

oh, no issue, but I don't think commas are required for pauses, I think that's a grammatical misconception that I read in a book by John Simon called Paradigms Lost.

goodreads.com/book/show/187643.Paradigms_Lost

Especially in a sentence that's not a formal introduction like "I am the protector, Sir Lancelot," but a simple simile like king Oedipus. See how weird it is: like king, Oedipus? I probably need to work on my own punctuation, like removing the wood from my own eye before pointing out the splinter in yours, if you want to remain biblical.

nah, you aren't hypocritical haha! Yeah I see the weirdness of it. I think it works, but it probably doesn't for most people. Given this, I'm not opposed to rephrasing the meaning of the sentence by making king into a title for the pronoun Oedipus rather than having king a noun with the pronoun adding to it later

aye, well good luck to you, I suggest getting that Simon book too, it's good stuff regardless. He's a real smart cookie.

I dig it. It's got a good rhythm but it's not so strict that it's stagnant.
Expect for the second line, it does not sound right at all. I think the metaphor is too obvious with the word glue.

I disagree with the guy who says the grandkids caring more about the presents is unbelievable, I think its definitely on point and the strongest observation in the piece.

However, that last line is absurd to the point that it knocks the whole carefully constructed tower over. The other guy knows, I know, and you know it too. Otherwise, great writing man. It's weird in a very insightful way

that's jandek - the beginning

gravity's rainbow, sorry didn't specify

ohhh, okay thanks
there's poetry in pynchon's stuff? or he kinda addresses folk/country/western stuff in GR?

thanks man!

there's a few scattered limericks and such which your poem reminds me of.

It did happen cause I think I remember
Of one time I was deep in slumber
A place like sunny little september
Had fruit dripping its gracious nectar
But it has since been forgotten

Some says it didnt happen
And
Some do say
One such as I
Were but forgotten
As children
In a holy play
Where we were
Out in the garden
A place we fought and sang
For our forgotten eden
And its fruits of blossom
And their eternal rind

And here I remember
We danced in the eve
For those in memory
Of the ones who grew blind
And there was never a winner
For all Took with mind
And spoke about the one
Most holy
Who
Who says all
All is mine

Best written, least interesting itt
This seems unfocused but it flows well
Bad edgy but I like the beginning
Good writing that is simple writing

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Well I just get the feeling like there may be more to the story or you may be deliberately being non-descript about things just for the sake of it seeming deep.

There is more to the story but I didn't think it was important. Thank you for your critique, I'll keep making drafts and revisions!

Sorry, the black background soothes me.

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