DreamerSupreme
on Translation by Dovina
3 Jul 2004, 9:26 AM
Oh the ways that one succumbs. Take my eight and go in peace oh ms. shady tongued and polite.
I don't see why you would plagiarize something like this. Maybe it was something else you copied, can't say. Yeah, being pretty doesn't matter sometimes, but hey, it's a great quality if you've got it and can use it instead of some other stuff. Okay, I'm preaching.
Like how a murderous nut nurtures his dying victim while simultaneously cradling his knife in a cancerous and ignoble fashion? Yeah.. that sounds motherly.. if it's my mother and not him.
Cursed pirates and sea-clowns have struck again!
Have you ever considered simplifying & compacting all this into something concrete and comprehensible instead of something vague and riddled? I think you've owned me. I am forever shamed. Damn you woman.
Shuushin
on Charming Distraction ( The Day I Put My Socks On Backwards) by MacFrantic
3 Jul 2004, 8:26 AM
rotary phone is a nice touch.
I've been critiqued for my line breaks recently, but some of these give me pause. If no one else says anything then its just me.
Trust me, I've never been close to the state, nor do I ever plan to go near the south of this crabby united states.. but maybe with enough alcohol and meth, you could get me to go steer hunting in texas while searching for nonexistent black gold and apache medicine men who sell peyote.
I like your name.
Like, "You're trying to make sense"?
yes. You're making assumptions again.
Please read what you've just written. Is that really what you want to say?
god'swife - thank you.
Time is a device for our own convenience; it really doesn't exist.
thanks.. and that's just because i was simply talking to myself..
yep, and tragic too,you may say. thanks..
I'm afraid you're the one who's wrong. Reality IS what exists in the universe, including many things which humans have only perceived inconsistently or wrongly.
Look at it this way: suppose I were a person living a thousand years ago and said the reality of earth was that it is covered by a blue-painted shell about a two hundred feet up. Now, do you think the 'reality' of earth, even a thousand years ago, is what I ignorantly spout on about it (that it's covered with a shell), or that it's covered with several miles of air that refract white sunlight, giving the appearance of an opaque blue surface?
Now, suppose modern science is wrong and scientists discover in a few years that earth is really surrounded by banks of tel-o-matics upon which aliens project eye-pleasing blue images. Then has reality changed? No! Not at all!!! Only somebody's admittedly-ignorant idea of 'reality' has changed. The main difference between a scientist and a regular person at that point will be that the scientist will revise his theories and then go on about trying to understand his revised model of the universe, while the regular person will scream bloody murder, sacrifice a half-dozen virgin pullets, and start sucking at his thumb with a maniacal fervor. Then, depending on what sort of undergarment style he prefers as much as anything else, he'll either loudly proclaim that whatever he has always believed without need of proof or verification is now true and'll lord it over everybody else; or he'll claim that the new evidence is flawed, that he doesn't need evidence anyway, and that he's still right in whatever he's always believed. Then they'll start some massive globe-encompassing war with each other using the pure instruments of science for wanton destruction. Tell me, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??!?!
PS-The rest of your comment is too silly for words, and shows you to be manifestly unqualified to use science-words (or very many other words, for that matter,) in your poems. Leave them alone. They belong to somebody else.
gripping to a certain degree - maybe grasping.
Lots of nice symbolism to play with, but I think *maybe* it's a tad long.
and that last sentence needs to go.
Now look what you've done. You've contradicted yourself right into your own overlarge unblinking eyes. Let's recap, shall we?
You've said:
1) Someone [i.e., god'swife] is unqualified to critique your poem because she is a mediocre poet, irrespective of whether or not she's a good poem critic.
2) Someone [i.e., Roger Ebert] is qualified to critique a film despite that he's not even a mediocre filmmaker, because he's a good film critic.
Do you think the factor that makes someone a bad critic for you might actually be THAT HE OR SHE HAS TRASHED SOMETHING OF YOURS??!?! YES!!!
BONUS: Why don't you go the full monty and say one (or both!) of the following?
1) All people are qualified to write poetry about science, whether they know anything about science or not.
2) Only people who know anything about science are qualified to write poetry about science.
I am sure your poems mean wonderful things to you, and this is not meant as a criticism of you, but read godswife, zzinnia, poetandknowit, christof and you will find great attention to engage the reader, to not make sweeping statements but to make subtle insights.
cute. a bit wordy, and I know the poem's about one facet of that, but I still didn't want to wade through the whole thing; rhythm's a bit off for me in several places.
If you meant this seriously, and I see that you don't, I'd have to argue that Occam's Razor is only towards the simplest _sufficient_ explanation, and that would apply to the simplifications you make--they're context-dependant, and so it's hard to see whether they're overly-simplified or not in usage. ;)
Points for the blend, though.
Like I'd ever stand a fair chance. Most participants on this site vote based on mutual mastrubation not on anything that could be identified as an understanding of the techiniques of poetry writing. Like you said, and I'm paraphrasing, it's not so much about reality as preceptions. Iy's all about preceptions,I am erroneously perceived as a bitch, I'm more of a cunt really. If we sent our 'best'(what ever the fuck that is) poems to an arbritrary workshop or critic I'd agree to that and I'd kick your sorry poetry ass.
Otherwise I choose derringers at dawn. Asshat.