deadman, gradual yet
 

forever

something to alter, mitochondrial overwrite
blood author summoning poltergeist. young Jungian archetype
nothing for offer, all for providing a martyr
writing memoirs like thumbprints on the side of a wall
grime / mortar rhyme distorter, pathologic retarded
blind archer asking for another shot at the target
semi-toxic lye ascorbic acid bacon & grease
last child of the Summertime who safely retreated
machiavellian freakshow. codeswitch on whoever he meets
made it a mission to disassemble his demons
sensory teeth-grind, Gumbleeder, molar eclipse
nobody different from any smoke in the distance,
moby dipshit. shark hunting farming boa constrictors
hardly understandable and overdefensive
sober visionary, lamenting on the woes of his mind
bare witness to gradual yet total decline
mostly i'm, auto-pilot forward motion rewind
melt away, psychonautic hivemind frozen in time
a writhing lotus. overgrown his own habitual slogans
sink into your doldrums let me whisper a song
capsule bead artillery we let it dissolve
slowly reconditioning ourselves in the process
blackbird on my shoulder. blade is older than god
from hole in the ground to coastal Milan, via Nirvana
i loved truly, peaceful up in Salem Wisconsin
the absence weighs heavy on me often. just a thought
how could it not? what a foolish endeavor
we might as well be stupid together
just a thought





dm

if i may be hypercritical, as you would wish i could be. this read oddly to me, not because of its different flare to the usual. I suppose sometimes the need to cram in as much information as possible into a space becomes the hardest task based off of many things... i'll list them here
1.) stanzas, and their syllable counts. you're extremely anal about this, it's always a methodical 11-15 no matter what. I don't even need to count them here because i know they're about that, this is good, but also sometkmes detrimental.
2.) the leaving out of words that seem to take up space, that may seem unwarranted.
3) i know this new wave, or old school revived way of not using punctuation, lowerxasinf everything. I'm at a loss for the term but it was a practiced way of poetry, i think in india.
at times i'd read what you wrote and i'd be lost for a second. maybe a comma, spacing, periods pause- something could've been used. i speak on this spelt for the fact that there was so much information it became sensory overload. not exactly bad, and it may have been what you were aiming for but it actually threw me off a few times!

i also saw less of what i thought was expected. the bold lines of truth. the quick moments of heralded honesty. something, that warranted a head nod. something people relate too, not because it's commonplace. but you challenge the reader to think differently, to think like you and connect on a scope. this seemed to be more of a scream, audible expelling of something wedges deep down inside - can't put my finger on it. sometimes i venture out into these realms of writing, where, i compare things to something absurd, and these comparisons become analogies for my writing - when in reality these analogies are far fetched and long winded, but i don't care about that. i dig it into the reader so much that i hope these things become commonplace just in that verse alone. but i can only speak for myself, here.


nonetheless, enjoyed this. thanks

Nicely said, @big baby.
dead man I also thought you offered those moments of truth and they remind me of an anime character's swift and effective responsive attacks against an adversary -- which are in slow motion so it heightens the intensity and emphasizes the importance of the retaliation. I think the lower case font and the consistent use of action verbs (and other things, I forget the language arts terms!) also support that you're aiming to entertain but also have this inclusive way of bringing the audience into the verse.

sober visionary, lamenting on the woes of his mind
bare witness to gradual yet total decline
^The diction is smooth and the content punchy.

What I thought this was about: the witchcraft of casual life. The things that sneak up on you in suburbia that can make a 9-to-5 seem apocalyptic. A cool conceptual exercise combining themes of pain, braggadocio, and cultural references.