FreeWrights Peer Review™

Anon the change of life
(47 with a bullet)


That half-seen satellite rips my future from me
with a certain frequency — don’t curse it like a loon;
my bubonic-brewing face is graven in
its lesioned craters and scythe-mountains,
don’t cry for my crusty-mushy coming façade.

Curse its final yanking pass —
the future will never be in my arms;
my sappy rhythm will turn noisy as
that half-seen satellite.

*

You gave me profound appreciation of masturbation, thank you;
I won’t scratch you from photos like some Bee Fucking Atch;
your provocative procrastinations enticed me
to let you fuck me one way from Sunday,
I won’t torch those thirsty fuckless memories;

I’ll meditate
upon your new bitch’s soon-flushed future,
muse into city-levelling anathema orgasm,
glory in my final final phase; coming half unseen
by neighbours who witnessed Monday to Saturday nothing.

veronicat,

This will take me myriad readings to dig into its fierce bones. One thing that popped out was the recurring use of yank/yanking. I'd like to see some replacement motions (jerk, tug ) although I kind of intuit that verb is important to the narrator, not only as an action but as some kind of furious statement (?)

The diction is pushed to the edge, close to the top but you (yank) pull it off. The only place it didn't work for me was in this line:

my imminent blistered rotting features

Call in the Over-Modification Squad!

I think the retching you want should ditch the w.

I like how rage battles disarray. This poem hurts my throat; it's very sad.

You might like "imminent buboed features" -- I like plague, it's good fun. I think were I to use "uglyesque" I'd spell it "ugliesque" but that's rather academic (or unacademic, depending on who's wearing the silly hat). I agree with bf on the yanks (it's not a word I use in poetry often at all, unless it's to take the piss out of Americans) -- I am guessing you've got a reason for it but it's not a powerful enough word to stand up to repetition.

Having read this, though, I feel purged -- it is seriously GOOD to read poetry with attitude, instead of insipid "oh he left me I'm so sad" stuff. "All you ever gave me was profound appreciation for masturbation" -- ouch. Beautifully emasculating.

bF and Leanne,

Thank you for taking the time to address this mess. And it is a mess, there's a whole pile of issues (no pun intended) with it that I couldn't see. It's funny, I started out with "rips" instead of "yanks," and I don't know how "yanks" ended up staying. No, anti Americanism is definitely not intended. Ugh. And the whole end of s3 needs shredding. I guess I was tired of looking at it and needed fresh eyes, so again thank you. It probably wasn't fair to post it, I likely could have left it for another couple weeks and then had some new insights, but I wouldn't have had YOURS, so this is great.

Buboed ... brilliant. Haven't heard that word used in forever. I don't know if I can use it, but it takes me back. (To what? Yuchh!). My ultimate buboed visage? hmmm...

Anyway, N's blame is supposed to point to herself ultimately, and I don't see that in here ... I must yank something into this.

Many thanks again for your input, greatly appreciated.

Can we lock this one? Or is it ok to just delete it for now?


V.

V

Madame La Concierge is here with her bundle of jangling keys. When you want to reopen this door, please give me a nudge.

v

modest changes, feb 4

Leanne's buboesque notion now resonates, among other salient insights
leading to change from all ... thank you. Oh, title be changed too y'all.

banditfemme wrote:veronicat,

This will take me myriad readings to dig into its fierce bones.

So, at this point, should I provide the "tell" ... provide the key to unlock this treasure? I really thought
it was NOT oblique, that the title and the two "points of reference" almost gave it away too much ... but
nobody seems to get this, so clearly I've messed it up. So I'm thinking, tell them the "tell" and maybe
the real poets here might help me make this just a hint more clearer ...

I'm asking a lot, aren't I? I suck.

But it's a dry suck.

Sorry to allow this beautiful creature languish. Please, no tells! I don't think the change of life being described here is menopausal,

so

I believe this calls
for a celebration


brilliantly written: V er-on-i-ca[s]t[/s]

Oh, THAT kind of satellite! Sorry to be so thick, I was thinking of ESPN or something :)

banditfemme wrote:I believe this calls
for a celebration

I appreciate the notion, bf, but why a celebration? I'm not sure how good this piece is,
it's getting quite a thrashing at another forum ... but I asked for it I guess. LOL.


Leanne: I wrote this using "moon" at first, but fell into my own wordiness and
went with satellite, then had to make it "half seen" to distinguish it from other
satellites (that was the idea), then the "half unseen" fell into place as the punchline.

Still no tells, I promise.

A thrashing means you've got their attention. It's when they get no conversation at all that you know you've screwed up somewhere.

I do still feel like a dick to have misread this the first time though.

Leanne wrote:A thrashing means you've got their attention. It's when they get no conversation at all that you know you've screwed up somewhere.

I do still feel like a dick to have misread this the first time though.

Leanne, nobody gets this one, so don't feel bad. Blame the author ... no, really. And yes, I'm happy with the thrashing in general.

V~

I suppose I've been obtuse again. I thought a dramatic change of life is cause for (anxious) celebration, or rather trepidation + celebration. In this case, I don't see any reason to blame the author.

~v

banditfemme wrote:V~

I suppose I've been obtuse again. I thought a dramatic change of life is cause for (anxious) celebration, or rather trepidation + celebration. In this case, I don't see any reason to blame the author.

~v

CONTAINS SPOILER ... I need to "explain" this so that I can either junk it or rework it so that it's clearer ... any help is appreciated.

Obtuse? I'll give you obtuse ... I ... no, I won't, I shan't, I can't. Or ... can I? Naw. But indeed, please blame the author. This piece got an Editor's Choice "award" (that's not the right word, but whatever) over at another forum; but I'm convinced that it's because of the line about appreciation for masturbation. That forum is principally designed for erotic stories and poetry, and I suspect that most readers (and editors) see it as erotic. It really, really is not intended to be erotic on any level. One comment I received there was that this is another porn poem. I fucking blew my top at that one and posted quite a lambasting about the comment. Probably embarrassed myself. The commenter actually apologized for that part of her comment in an ensuing post though, so...

Anyway, here's the deal:

This piece is supposed to be a representation of two of the myriad possible experiences/feelings "one" might have as MENOPAUSE approaches. There. Take that. The verisimilitude attempt may be a total wash. I'm pleased with myself for attempting something a bit dangerous for me, even if this piece is inaccessible to virtually everyone.

Frankly, I figured men wouldn't get it (no offense meant to them, honest), but that the line about the future never being in my arms was the giveaway. Apparently not. Even the title change didn't work. Arrgggh.

So, there it is. Too many notes, too many words, et cetera.