Anyone interested in helping me edit my 'experimental' novel?

Poetry, narrative, philosophy, politics, sense, nonsense, experimentation.

I need some crazy geniuses

maybe

>edit
no
>tell you its shit
yes

thankful someone has responded, are you an excellently great epic supremely significantly special important writer? are you very skilled and talented and incredible, in the areas of poetry, philosophy, politics? can you be something of the voice of the generations?

>can you offer me trappings?
sure

I bet your novel is neither experimental nor novel

Can't help you with that but I could get myself drunk and randomly delete lines while occasionally smashing my head against the keyboard. It wouldn't be a good novel but it'd sure as hell add to the whole "experimental" thing.

me too, you wouln't be asking here

>"edit"

Of course that's what you want.

what do you mean by trappings?

more importantly than me asking how much do you want to bet? is, are you a great writer and creative thinker, and are you very skilled, imaginative and passionate in the areas of philosophy and politics?

I have tried other places, and have seen some intelligent people around here, where can I ask... I thought maybe there might be at least one very creative and intelligent person possibly lurking, the positivity of that potential inclined me to attempt

please

Post a sample so we can see if it's worth our time or not...

I will, but before, can you tell me if you are a great writer/editor and very interested in philosophy, politics, poetry?

We're going to need you to reveal that you're shit first.

I'll help you out, well versed in literature, politics, history and poetry

Not remotely pretentious at all, could be a good or a bad thing for you

Yes I will sub edit for you and critique your viewpoints

you guys have throw away emails?

Wtf is this and how old are you?

Just post like 1 page here faggot.

Just post an excerpt. But if you insist,

[email protected]

[email protected]

So did OP send anything?

of course he didn't he's hoping someone else who is better than him will write it for him and let him piggyback, because OP is a girl in 5th grade home room who doesn't want to do a project

>[email protected]
I will say whats up, I didnt think that sharklasers is a real email

it's a throw away

>I will say whats up,
that's not an excerpt of your work, and if it is, you're already shit, no need to send it.

Okay, OP, in case you're wondering why no one is responding until you post a sample: Imagine a writer who is not terribly good at all, but lonely and starved for attention, enough that the person will play on the Dunning-Kruger Effect (maybe unkowingly) to ferret out a possible reader for his unreadable work.

It doesn't matter if you're this kind of writer. The only thing that matters is for you to convince us that you aren't. So post an excerpt of your shit, okay?

>how do i get a critique on my work without showing them my work
they'll help

You posted this thread a few months ago with a pic of some faggot in a masquerade mask. Your writing was awful then, and I doubt it's improved. Kindly stop this self-important "contact me" nonsense and post in the critique thread. You are not special.

A splatter stolen from loves finest node, loosed from the vial a top
the mountainous soul caught in a cup thats a grail raised high above
the highest head thats the heart of the honest child grown older
dripping blood into the womb of a consience thats the spirit thats an
angel that is wicked and a slave to its hell while the thoughts are
around and some are choosen not to enter and some appear and are
ruined and some stick around and go away and come round as the going
says it will come near and the dismal how it rains ice razors cool
crisp needling in your soul falling fervently in the hidden rooms with
a winding stair which carry burdens with short claims of unknown
wanting one cries weary holding dearly the one loved as the many
almost amongst stalling quiet slightly sleeping rising burning longing
like a gentle flame that does flicker in the wind rush through the
window as the earth turns and lets its air become touched by
imperfections that cause perfect stable orders flow diminshed and rise
again as the tides are a watery wind like a web world wide of the
patterns and the parcels in their orders that produce the holy setting
ripe for the scene of a young prince and his bride sitting patient
waiting to be knighted or a king taught to upchuck his benevolence
slyly as a gliding lord who to we say you have a son you have a
daughter and they see you in their mirror and they watch your working
ways and they know the world by name and number so beware the council
of indifference knight in night in storm the devils mighty abode may
best be the type of prison or what it means to be free in a world lest
your children become the demons this earth demands and yearns for
beware not for life is highest order and the highest stakes claim the
highest right higher powers bashing weary banishing and draining with
the dripping sharp stones of arrows tipped safely into poision curing
blatent misery misspoken in times tormented by a tolerent burning
young teasing the fire with feeding slowly steadfast like the vision

of some hero never ending in their foolish struggle to daily save the
worlds day holding tightly clutching token to a curious chaste
illusion of blasted cautious dreary swallowed whole like an endless
opening engulfing a metaphoric whale like that mighty ram horned army
surging and storming a cosmic background out of fates forbidden comand
and serious control ramrod forward and relayed downard up below that
those lofty vistas locate so heard of in tales of dishonesty and
cherished mishandled woe silly courage and her sisters and her brother
honest theivery grinning in every corner at once like the most
appropriately absent alter, thats all that will occur when you pray to
a god that is change and you dwell in a valley of hazey in conclusion
chased by a fraction of control, capturing the weary hasted findings
of the tempered ill sands row, of arms bareing coats doves dying with
easy wounds from a wing clipped too soon, before first flight as the
early dawn approaches ever further into distance and the sound of swan
song is drained by a low mumble, the victory trot will be the yawning
earths river and wormy mud and the tribal drum dance song will beat
the heart onwards like it does, the storm bellows from the hearts
chamber, it echos up the chest in a deep noted thrum, its roots are
mysterious fibers connecting emotions from the future, its bone is
like wood and stone, its blood is like greater than river, its lungs
are like the breath of sun, and what has come before will come again
ever differently, and for man what is there but lust and indifference,
what is there but wanting ever more, what is death but eternal
contentment, ripping wild through a street way calmly, and zooming in
for a spell, on/as the ants of carnival embelish their memoirs with
real illusions and drink globules of marmalade on patios of jagged
stone, in fancy get ups and great manners showcased clinking tea
spoons for politely aquired eyes entertaining the wretched guests with
another tragic tale of triumph, some limp burden left undone, half
cooked meal abonded on the lawn and the sustence of a dirty dream
lingers on a stuttering tongue, tied up like a cat caught dying the
subtle feline in no mood at all spritizing a berry fragerence in the
stark sunshine bloomed air while the flowers watch and wonder with
their chin in their hands, sitting on a blanket with their roots all
torn from under and a last living breath dizzily wishing for the stars
to surprise or explode, one watching may never discern that there was
a war going on at all

An abstract construction;
production from combustions' obstructions
rustling with disrupting eruptions

So fight with the earth which hath dawned you
in spite of the delight from the light of the dark one

Stricken fortunes bestow torture,
you are natures orchid in an infinite orchestra

Storms lash wrath;
flames seethe from nostrils
of earths cold shadows cast,

May you conquer;
may not least,
nor last,
be tomorrow an encore

Heavy metallic liquid leaking is seeping,
seeking a warm embrace
a meaning,
a rhyme or reason
as the trickling time of seasons
design wicked feelings it seems stream
from a dealing with demons
who shine bright on dimly lit evenings
to the minds of dimly wit beings who are dreaming

all as a culture of vultures torture tumultuous sculptures of you

The wells run dry beside a temple
the complete circuit is a complete circus
or within one there are things done that you cant do,
return your mind to the source its a rental
youre a phantom,
follow the path preceded by lantern
hoisted by a fountain, a crown lays beside a temple

It must;
stay waiting to be picked up
or waiting to pick up rust
or wait till its weight wanes to just dust

The full house undergoes treacherous struggle,
a spade is at stake
reduced to a smoldering puddle of rubble,
fire stains the fain down with a flame however subtle
creating pain in the brain from a heart that never bubbles

A diamond is not a women's truest lover,
envision the truth in the eye of a brother,
lightning emerges from broken towers
tucked under covers,

hidden in passages of time are potential powers
mastering minds of cowards who
cower and stutter for
hours passed in nanos

Allow your energy to matter

Heed the words written in the roots of your ancestries flower
for it has soaked wisdoms reign; ignorance it doth not devour

Reality is almost certainly infinity attempting to understand eternity
and you're a joker? are you joking me?

I ought to ought
I thought
but naught,
thine heart which is beat to start with help from vines wine made tart;
is observed and reserved to be re served a verbiage of fine art,
a mind shark harkens to find a blind lark
broken by a night timed shine stark dark inclined arc
A beast finds a lined mark
as the dumb dog bites shy bark
tongue binded by a felines sly smarts

You only remember to forget the problems,
that dont occur to you while inside them you wallow

Happenstance;
circumstantial demands demand to be planned,
or demand repeating again and again

Illusion happens to be happy or sadden,
discoveries of dramatic nuance overloading realities,

is it a habitat for humanity or a divine battle league?

Grass gives back the light it has borrowed
and ventures beyond the horizon
of sorrow,

Life's only sorta rude without fortitude
until happiness springs forth tomorrow
and restores your morbid mood

Tears never bat an eye to reside in a stream of cry
down a cheeks side, or a mountain, or the sky

What's causing this
tattering of tarnished varnish
to harness garnish
through carnal carnage?

Stone is not even set in stone
and your home is built of bone

The mist beckons I visit thee on strewn paths of wood
through forests of dew and all to see they
whom thoust has called, you

Flowers robust in name and number
each to their own I exclaim and mumble,
the weeds and shade
sway and tumble
in the valley where
bees and babes bumble

Fixation with acceleration tunes to
a stationary relation with approximation,
in perennial positions I lay in impatiens with patience.

Radiating aires of vibrance in an acre of meadow
to meet the maker of these fair hills in silence,
in essence my Geppetto

We are the inventions and inventors,
conventions and dementors,
retentions and dissenters
apprehensions and preventors

Of course,
treaties have been signed off course
with the graffiti of the times but whats worse;
squiggly lines perform intercourse with your mind
to form meaning, which youll find intertwined with remorse
at times an intent unkind from the source

First and foremost with no purpose
you are a man with a headless horseness
with nothing but no clue on your person
or worse yet a sacred curse thats worthless,
to wander this earth in search of a hearse
since you burst from birth to desert this worthless dirt you have learnt

The life of a maggot in an angels carcass
harnesses the faith it has not lost yet

Dawn lifts shadows from their sultry slumber
awakening the hidden temples of gods and men

Where are the holiest most perfect particles in the universe?

Where reality is more surreal then you can imagine

How did I become a player in this never ending game?

This physical metaphor can be know more then a puzzling game
to test the brave as well as the in sane
and If everythings' related,
well, that changes everything

A full bundling mass of flowers, laid on my daughters door step this
morn, and I do declare and reckon twas from an admirer unbeknownst to
me, no lass of mine hadst begged of mine permission, and no damsel in
distress twill she ought be, lo, and so, though I am merely fairly
certain, surely quite sure, I think, I believe, an unworthy suitor
may not walk that rope so tightly taught high, that faulty youth love,
that cheap tv drama made of the devils most potent potables, what and
how many years to construct the Godly machine, the good mind, to turn
it into a fog which chases the hot wetness of male stench in fast car?
to build a mind brick by brick, gear by gear, just to be filled with
wrenchs of monkey, indeed not, bad sir, there will be a suns worth of
firework and the hottest iron hammers welting on soft boyish behind
before my baby girl runs off with some not so great ape, my tongue
will lash the back of necks and seer through these endless curtains of
dick weed if I have to recall the touching of a poisoned finger at my
little bitchy queen, the top of my table, that makes my legs not
wobble so, my melting cup of butter, my marigold, angel, darling,
dearest, I have created the sacred woman! I am a saint! I am your
lord! and you will not taint the fine white linen of my loins! with
your far from sacred dick in my ass, I am snarling at the thought of a
walking pimple sneaking around town with my precious hussy! treating
me like a heathen! like im some darn basket of honey for you to
drizzle on your eggo, like I am some baby nightingale in the bluest
robins egg who has fallen in the yard, and you! demanding I mow the
lawn over and over... and then I must tell you, my dear God, how
quicker then the snap of the tiniest thunder spark in the tiniest
spark of thunder, I fell...down from my high horse, down from my high
chair, down from the heavens, I fell, from the mountain, from the
tower, from glory, from haughtiness, from my deserved macho brava, I
fell, clenching my heart, failing to clench my sobbing, I fell, like a
baby buffalo into a deflating kiddie pool of its own blood, like the
crimson king of all tigers shot by the worlds greatest human fool,
like the lively result of a guillotine, concious but no movement, a
warm smile on my face, the smile of a cracked egg man, quivering lips,
pulsing temple, my drooly mouth acidic, the taste of the desire of
human flesh, my beating heart, in my ears in my eyes, the changing of
tempos, was the changing of seasons, the changing of empires and
emperors, the changing of diapers and tampons, the changing of
clothes, the changing of homes and towns, the changing of all there
is, the changing of energy, changing tempos, I felt new rhythms in my
mind, rhythms which frightened me, scary rhythms, tones higher than
the highest number and louder than the loudest sound, was it a billion
maybe, bass drums?

a quidrillion different horns playing only in
different keys? I could not stop smiling, shaking, rocking on the
floor, my eyes large and widened, grabbing my ankles, my body in a
ball, I tried to bite the floor, to see if i could break my teeth, the
noises reflected the matters movements, and the movements matters, and
that movement mattered, and matter matters, and the movements of
matter mattered as to how the matter moved and I saw how it all
mattered, and what could I do, and hey, what did I know; by then I was
shrieking, my daughter and wife were now in the room, on various phone
items, pacing, shaking me, screaming, calling for help, and I could
not stop smiling and rocking and drooling, and hearing the sounds, of
the spheres, of the squares, of the holy triangle, I could not see
past all the matters, their sacred cosmic positions in space and time,
the matter of fact, the genius of this human body technology, that
which we have always been fighting for, the reason gold is gold, I
tell you I was on my back, feet a clapping, seeing stars, laughing
like a dead baby by-passing this level onwards to greater plains and
fields, no, I thought, there are no short cuts, I was in some sort of
big funk, and screaming "No you shall not have freedom!" "No you are
my doll!", and not to not to mention my wife, to mention my wife, who
of course is me, my bride, the govna, the great barterer, the weigher
of weights, the weightress, the checker of checks, balancer of
balances, the holy smokes, the lady who looks out my window, the
dandelion day dream who blows soft kisses on my burning skull, the
bitch embedded within me, who neatly folds my thoughts and places them
in their proper rows, I was cackling at this point like a drunkard
pigeon at his lucky stool, watching the game, (as that is what pigeons
love to do, as everything is a game, and pigeons watch) drinking a
malted leopard, we can laugh when our pockets are not being tortured,
and in between moments our dicks are not begging to be unfilled, I
stood up and went to the window and yelled out "shut the fuck
up!...just, shut it! shut the fuck up! can you not all just make sense
for a certain amount of moment! why the need for all the confusion!
the sloppy stupid chaos love joy?

I have just seen the eternity which
has made you all, which you are, and which you muddy up, to become
yourselves", startled all the news boys, all the paper boys, the paper
chasers, and pushers started crossing out all the words in the
newspaper, jotting down the lines, selling it cheerily for an
increased price, in that early morning, after dawn, the police were on
this case, the critics had already deemed the news unworthy, boring,
bollocks, pretentious, too ambitious, too true, there was much
shouting in the street, oh silly ones, silly ones, take a deep breathe
will you! dont you know all problems are due to death? and all the
problems you make are death to each other and yourselves? this strife
and struggle, this constant blowing of the balloon, and as if that
were not enough, to see whose is bigger, still, and still, and still?
till it bursts in to flames and confetti, a shower of rainbow sequins
glittering in the icy dust of spaces unrelenting

vagina, building
yourself from the stolen shards complex geometry you could not design
in a hundred years, blistering sharp sounds and dissonant waves of
awkward pleasure, sonorous harmony of perfect math and form
constructing the perfect shape of human body, the subtle breath of
which is that glorious soul, the tongue on the tip of the tongue, in
the head, which laps at its motions like they were all spoken words, a
picturesque picture frame hanging on a dirt wall, covered in the soots
of a mouses poop, a mouse in a house prefers its space to your maze
you slouch on a couch for days anyway, and the rushing and sirens out
in the street with the sun arriving smiling, yes childish, yes like an
old babe, yes like a small fly who carries a lantern through the
night, yes like the tower boy who widdles and whistles and waits to
cry, that the sun has arrived! that the sun has arrived! that the army
is coming! that the ground is shaking, that the earth is bursting,
that the feeling in the stomach of love and hunger is controlling and
controlled, and they all control each other, and what is everything if
not a mish mash of mish mashs some mish mashier than others, what is
every thing if not a big gay parade, of gangsters and hooligans,
hobgoblins and the likes, mad and happy men, and the me not likes me
thinks and the me likes and the me not thinks me thinks, and the you
thinks, and the we thinks and the she thinks and the he thinks and the
bee thinks and the tree thinks and the sea thinks and the...fuck, and
the sorcerers with their plastic medallions and love for shinny
stones, and the wicked women who would kill 20 children for another
pair of fuck me shoes, I jest, I kid, when you only have one life to
live who am I to tell you what you should do? and yes there are reds,
and yellows, and pinks, and purples, and blues, and they are all made
of different shades of grey when it comes down to it, there is only
architectures and architects, there are only storms and rivers, there
is only lame and destruction, there is only boring and hell, there is
only cobwebs and fire, there is only a hustle bustle of ants marching
too and fro and there is only the leader of them all, our lord, his
majesty, master death, and oh now I see, yes, oh, why yes, I see, how
silly, the flowers were for me

A dying sword, made of flimsy bone and carved wood,is impaled
gently, with great honor and care, into the gushing trenches
of my gulf stream
wedged in perfect places like a perfect wedgie,
overhead and onto a branch stick, a flapping seagull puffs his
fucking tail
and stares at me mean like,
just another normal person having a day
in the highlight of ourlives
or more like the blooper reel
you thought the carrot juice was orange juice and you were
half right and half wrong
in september we were engaged
in disengaging the franchise of engagement
we eloped in our dreams and awoke angry and disturbed
you had wet the bed with what was not urine
I had farted all night and masked the room to a high degree
this is one of many segues
there were weeping women in the synagogue
a boy became a man
and while all hope was not lost
noone could find any of it that had been
so I hoped the next train to italy
thinking how apt it was to be called a bullet
I wanted to get a job in a pizzeria
I filled out an application and was hired on the spot
they got a lot of tourists and I could speak perfect american
I washed dishes while the customers got turnt up
tipping the hot pizza men flipping pies of dough near the oven
thats when I realized what girls dig
so in my free time I practiced juggling
my roomate made me quit after the 3rd week
of all the fruits bruised
I spilled her pino grigio down the sink drain
and filled the bottle up with tap water
and left it in the fridge to perform an equal and opposite
force of the embaressment she had caused me in her vocal
outrage and shaming of my juggling tactics
and I spit in it some too
this line you are currently reading is sarcastically ironically
sardonically metaphorically metaphysically dialectically my favorite
line of the
poem

I put on your sisters swimming trunks to go to the mall
because you thought I didnt believe in freedom
when we got tired of drawing with chalk on the driveway
we played hopscotch
when we got tired of playing hopscotch
we jumped rope
when we got tired of jumping rope
we wove a hammock
when we got tired of laying
we slept
when we got tired of slepting
we woke
when we got tired of waking
we started our day
it was raining
I was happy
we went to the theater to watch a movie
we watched the avengers, or hunger games, or spider man, or
super man,
I was jealous the whole time
jealous of the actors and their money
jealous of the writers and their good ideas
jealous of the director and his immaculate vision
jealous of the man who kept getting to kiss the hot chicks
you bought me an ice cream cone and I bought you a pop corn
I went to get a soda and was so mad I just left
I walked to the mountain
I walked to indonesia
I walked to the kitchen
I became a cook
I washed more dishes
I became established at scoffing
I could never be good at origami
I day dreamed of owning a company that made a lot of money
while at the same time destorying the environment and harming
as many humans physically and mentally as possible as quickly
as possible and also put all the other companies out of buisness
I day dreamed of ruling the world with an iron dick
in ancient history I was a hero
in todays world im a god
back in the day I was an explorer
I was a random man on the prairie
I was a boondoggle on a pirate ship
I have never literally been prairie dogging it
in the medieval ages I just minded my own business
in ancient egypt I was probably a dissenting slave
if youre not careful your life line stops
or will be stopped for you
in ancient greece I was a bum
In prehistoric times I was a minimalistic animal
who sat around and picked at dirt and food in the mud
in those times I probably would have loved to come across a
pile of fresh dung
if I were an elephant I would be nervous about being
responsible for so much body
I feel a lot of things can go wrong
and then I consider the whale
strange bravery

suicide by being strapped to a defensive missile aimed at
eliminating an offensive missile sounds like the most exciting
way to go,
or sky diving from very high without a parachute
but if it turns out to be so fun
you may think, hey why dont I just live so I can do this more
often
imagine having a long supply of oxygen and food in a smallish
space suit and you are just sent off drifting into space like
a cosmic monk stranded in a hopeless sea,
I swear I have not seen the film gravity
im serious, I think I would never be a prince, how hard would
I have to work in my incarnations until I am able to in a life
become a good leader
who is the most confident man that has
ever lived and was he right?
what I see is music, the music I
hear is what I see but its made of sound, an echo is not a lie
but is it very honest? how sincere can a cliff be?
A moving staircase would be a great invention,
when you pull your car into my driveway late at night make sure to put
on your brights, I started feeding a squirrel my nuts in the park, and
then I adopted him, and now he hangs out in my hoodie as I
walk around my hometown and run errands, a dragontiger would
not be as fierce as a wolfvirus maybe, a hawkchicken would
perhaps put up a better fight, but in all hoods of likely
still become submissive to our hold of strong will, epilepsy is a cool
word but thats a bummer right, imagine if all the words were
different, and then I remember that other languages exist,
but English ok, this whole poem is actually me using English
words that actually to me mean completely different words,
just to test out that theory, I will be releasing the key in
hiding somewhere within my coming work, of course that implies
my work is orgasmic or at least pretty darn close to it, I
gave a russian girl my bike because I liked her and she could
use me, she wanted to marry me for a greencard, but then she
realized with me she couldnt even fake it, I have never heard
any part of a drake song, think of all the serious timid men,
think about all that is valuable, I want to write a pocket
book, I want a book of my poetry printed on the tissues in a
box of tissues, I dont want to be so specific but I have to,

I want to say things like; A smarmy monkey man dangled some
marmalade from a pail covertly in the miscellaneous jungle by
a stream of tinctured dreams, and a jackrabbit with a jack
hammer jack knifed the monkey man off a swingset around dinner
time wearing dungaroos on a frosty september morning in the
rain in the sun, and the spiritual administers took notes
around the campfire that evening and discussed the days events
and those of the future, I want to say things like, and not
care, a battle furnace swallowed an orphan randy panting at a
little pussy in the garden, cupping his hands and being pre
madonna, style remnant of the early 00s, imagine catching
pneumonia from a soup kitchen, imagine meeting the love of
your life in the erotic section of a hallmark card store,
imagine getting fired from your boss on your birthday and you
work from home for your wife and shes the bearer of bad news,
and you storm off to your bedroom and slam your door and then
she comes in and makes you sleep on the couch, imagine a
wingnut, imagine a dingbat, imagine a gnarwall, imagine if all
the food had lots of testosterone for extra nutrition, imagine
a pizza bagel the size of a pizza pie,

to me your negativity is repulsive, your field is composed of bad
vibes, in a way your essence space fades my chakra style, and our
nature types
just dont mesh like were not under a blanket, gasping for air,
sex is one of the least boring things to do on earth because
it feels and looks good sometimes, if I was in a carriage
pulled by a horse I would just ride one of the horses, if I
was in disney land I would go to disney world, if I was in
disney world I wouldnt be caught dead there, if I was in
disney world I would be so alive caught there, sometimes I
feel like your spirit has a net and you just catch me in your
web but then I remember its all in my head and I laugh at you
because your really just a little shit and then I get sad
because I want you to love me but then I realize if you did I
would no longer care about you so I dont care about anything
and then I realize that in ways I care about everything and
then I say I love you and hope you deny so I can keep liking
you and you can keep wondering why, Ive been pigeon holed, ive
been stool pigeoned, ive been pigeon ridden, ive been a clay
pigeon, ive been pigeon a smidgen, ive been a sea dove, ive
been a quacky quail, ive been a buffalo rising from the wet
surface deep, ive been an africa child smiling, ive been a
spring time shower in the moon glow, ive been hanging in the
river in the sun gloss, take chances like a dice slip, ive
been a rager on the moon tho,

we met at the hotrod convention of my dreams,
u looked as peaceful as a turtle dove with a turtleneck ,
you spoke spanish english,
i dont speak at all,
I flow bone your wishing well,
I mosey on over your cresting peak,
your mind is a peep show I cant pay for,
your dingaling is a ding dong,
I wont to ride you like a honky,
I want to kiss you like a razor blade,
I want to pray for you like satan,
I want to forbid you from entering my premise,
just to raise the steaks,
just to get testy,
foreboding I think,
time is a slingshot and you are the one jujube some people
tolerate, ive set up shop in a road side ditch, and you are
life fresh out of lemons, id rather you squeeze something in
my eye, then let me feel nothing at all, if you were a nancy
would you be negetive?

are moon tops aspiring to gently wish the sandy wind to blow over the smoke another ways any ways, and when the tide goes theres only one setting,

the ribbons of shimmering nighten gales shines the trancendent day, by the creek a river mixn doths in the smooth translucent pools spurling with light speckles cheerily daunting the

and there at the bottom, nestled between some shells and weed of sea, a pearl of sorts, a message in a bottle, a port eel, in a shoe a horn, a silver conch, a sharks tooth, a church bell,

turning these items over and over and mixing, and what with one at a time or

everything is forever fine and then what then
and its all about qualifying activities, shoots and ladders

perchance the mer chant a penchant for penitence
the ide goes in, the ide goes out

a man, der, sal, has been spotted under a rocky stone in a wet dew jungle
who cares
there is only on and on
there is only scurrying from and to
to build one and two few

under the spangled canvas sky
sending a letter to be caught up by the inner net
denizens
there is only the structures
there is only being structures
there is only the work load
the mother load, the pay load
there are many games and races
there are many lines and shapes
there is much step right uping


hark, herald, has been being done, continuously more and better,
what to say of all that is done that appears to should be impossible
the things people put their bodies hearts and minds to
there is so much time
there is so little time
its difficult to believe the level some people are on,
operating at
vfasty moving maximum capacity

something about running away but eventually where to but there are actually grand differences
but some constants always remain

something about a proud apprentice, the beauty of a valornt master, virtue and valiantcy taught with craft
think of all the skills and trades and crafts
think of all the businesses
think of the central nodes
think of the work of nets
stones of gem
pillars
foundations
walls
ceilings
towns
homes
electronics
engines
plumbing
systems
nodes

its not a small price to pay but whats the alternative
well trained for millennia
it is loved, many ways of love, and hate
many operators operating operations
everyone performing in the round
the costs of celebration
how many days
how many things must be done
all the atoms and geometry
God Bless School
so many interesting things
substances spirals
spires
are you of the proper,
what of culture
how many schedules of what kinds
this is what the world is mainly made of
what of what is mostly
we are all together and we are all apart
further than close, in ways more
in many ways not at all
but always almost alone
though there is so up close and personal
only characters to try to play
no escaping a certain clockwork
front and center every day?
what would be a world of no complaints
contexts, perspectives
each person you have seen, all people, their own relation to being human, to history, to the world
whoever you are
(cerritos domine)

the roof top mountain flowers love to live joyeslly, dubiously, sprouting buds and love over the sunshine stadium, the lumber yards, the winding roads, saturns sourjourn, and but then theres always the city, the town square, the market place, the architecture projects, the modern vistas and massive zones of polished perfected land, though spruceful greenry too, botanical gardens and the like,


rantoniom al ten ra ta elbonium bontarera folti for to el co de no like the ah yes send a mar eh the same time come again the metagonium the hypro sphere

ability stay, runs the blue bonnet
go so
stay

ok lets see
ok lets see then

drips the blue bomper

run the yellow jaguar
cut the blue ribbon
tie the purple knot
set forth the jumping antelope
rise the furious wingspan
develop the dreaming way sign
bash the morphful memory
brazen the timeless moonight
caress the laying sand sound
emulate the basket weavers lantern
envelope the time storm
run circles around the central square
possess the dream garden
tame the dream dragon
pass on the sea of legs
open the ark world
stomp on the ungrateful scenery
do not yank the unfurling cherry blossom
gleam the glistening sweat oft measurements of brow
empty the containers to know how things fit and fill
rush the meteoric tapestries
politely rumble the metabolic chambers
recall the limits pushed past to
exclaim the force
exasperate the layers and their details there of
unite the frontiers
fluctuate the rhythms happenings
harmonize the queer queries
exemplar the touching stone
sensify the broad and narrow
conduct the shocking set of epiphany
celebrate the best text books
understand significance
enjoy the freeway
climb the mountain of expensive tastes
look across the river at oryan
bless each day
enshrine the etchings of perfect remembrance
build outward, upward, down and in
excel excellently
are you not getting the vibrations from the sun?
religion, realign, relegion

signed: Taylor Maxwell

lie in water, lay in a pond unstil, tie the rope ends daintly, dirty the pond water with the dirt ends rope tied daintly on ashore, wash a shore the mends and moments mending swim awhile in the wake pool currents blue sky tide firey eye sun warms the bubbles still popping swimming in the lake water ocean sky in the sand dreaming in the light hopping on the wakes movements in the water cool sand shape currents floating in the sun and the warm rays touch the water trickling over bodies sands waters sun fires in the heart beats on water thumps in ear and the gulls flying over children squaking play and splashing in the waters floating flowing following currents tides around the rope mending miles of mending waters rubbing bodies in the sand and sun rays rubbing water on the body floating watching the sky cloud whitely brightly shining through the days with rays pushing the foam rising falling settlting fall arising settling falling sun setting sun rising sun foam water mud sand spark fire mud air water water wave rise fall sun moon rain

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

I really hate this place

are you pro- or anti-OP?

by experimental OP clearly meant his only exposure to literature has been warhammer 40k books, but this is still pretty shit even by that standard.

TL DR

never read them, if you would note I wrote that these were poems I wrote a while ago.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

any1

Thank you for this op. I feel way better about myself and Im a mediocre poet. This is all garbage. Straight dumpster juice. Set a ten year moratorium on writing for yourself. Read as much as possible. Dont ask for a second opinion as this the truth you need to hear, but not the one you will.

And all that posting before your garbage? You are a snivelling, insecure, pretentious drip who writes either high or drunk or both and believe you have shifted into the next paradigm when really you are just entertaining yourself. Which is fine. But it has no worth to anyone.

Really, youre probably of above average intelligence. You will need A LOT of discipline, study, and hard work to curb that monstrous self obsession.

I wrote these poems a while ago.

I posted them because they contain at least some glimpse of my potential style and content and ability. I am looking for someone who may want to collaborate. A lot of my writing is not these attempts at poetic musing, but I figured a person who potentially would be interested in working with me, reading some of my writings and talking about them and trying to make them better, include their own writing and dialogue, would think that me and my writing have potential to be worthy of intrigue, at the very least that my writing has potential of being worthy of something, with their help and mine.

Its unfortunate if you are not that person, but maybe even more unfortunate if my choosing of these particular samples of mine turned someone off who other wise may be something of a good match in co writing.

Most of these have little editing done, but were something of fun exercises I attempt occasionally in a particular mood, automatic writings.

You are right in ways, maybe many ways, I can hardly say in any ways you are wrong. But your anger and severe hatred does seem interesting, I may be entirely wrong, but I am slightly more than semi confident my writing has the potential, and maybe to degrees already is, something of positively interesting.

>this the truth you need to hear, but not the one you will.

>your response

Like fuckin clockwork.

Then post the real shit then, guy. If the previous is old writing warmups give us the raw. Dont hold back, do it now.

are you the one that made that post I just responded to?

I will post more recent of my writing a bit later. I have an actual (attempt at) coherent bit of the novel intro. Maybe my writing can be used to start a collaborative text, I would just want it more (extreme) vetted than usual (so there are not every 10 pages 20 pages of pure profanity).

>are you the one that made that post I just responded to?
I only asked that because I was gonna ask if you could give a few highlights of a line you really hate and if there is anything good about it, anything that could be made better, but then I realized that would probably be too easy

I edit professionally. Post one page and I will line edit and give you critique. I'm not doing any of that shit with emails. Be straight up and post it here. Everyone else on this board does, and you are not special. If you/it has any potential I will let you know, as well.

Yes, I am the one who wrote those two responses.
is probably your best bet, and anyways everyone is telling you to post. I know its scary to reveal yourself and potentially be hurt. Just do it. Everyone in the critique threads gets over themselves. You can too

they are worse than things that autistic LARPing fat man children obsessed with painting small model orcs for table top roll play based in Tolkien fanfiction would write. it's neither experimental nor good.

b

*walks in, unsuspecting*

Stop bumping if you're not going to post your shit.

what shit are looking for, and for what are you after shit?

All kinds. You got shit? I want it. Don't have shit yet but looking to unload it? Bring it here.

Nothin' like some good ol' boy shit to liven up a Tuesday night.

A pit of destruction is forming at my feet, and see the car disappear into it. Once more, I feel a rare sensation I had given up long ago. I feel a nauseating sense of insignificance. It was if some divine entity had come to purge me.
When the body of the man I just intended to destroy rises up from the rumbling depths, being torn into bits, I realize I am a long way from salvation.
When I realize I had been frozen solid in my place, it was like time travel finding myself back in my vehicle, praying, looking into my rear view mirror to see the distance from what I was running from wasn't big enough for my taste.
I punish my leg for not being able to push the gas pedal further by pushing harder.
Something has woken up in me. I find myself running. I am not scared, I am intrigued. I keep staring at the site and measuring the distance, but I only feel that the farther away I get, the closer am I pulled into another fate.
More so, when once more the bridge erupts, and what can only be described as a beastly soldier emerges from the hole, propelled with some type of engine in a backpack. The longer I look, the less I understand what I see.
Subconsciously I rule out the possibility of the nature of the threat. I go through a whole range of emotions I never knew I had, when what were once wild childhood dreams fade when reality gives you a nightmare. I try to suppress the thought of having to explain something I feel can only be supernatural.
I notice how controlled and insect like the figure moves fluently through the air. I come to my senses finally when the less familiar sensations take place for jealousy. Also, worry, because I feel at all.
Then I am ecstatic when the now stable hovering creature looks in my direction. I know how the hunt feels, so, both embarrassed and honored, I conclude that today would not be significant because of me.
I will be just one of many who will namelessly wither. Even my squabble this morning will be forgotten in mere minutes.
A blinding flash jumps from my predator, and only bliss remains. Then, electricity.
I've become transparent. I burn.

i really love this place

that's great, user.

It just feels like you put a thesaurus into a blender and pieced the remnants back together into a "poem".

And boy did I think I was self-indulgent, OP. You gotta listen to the others man and don't be so self-important. Though I sympathize because I was this way. I wish you good luck man.