thankful

[Eŋg]

A handful of things I’m rarely thankful for:
my brain, its beauty, and a pair of hands that wrought
the path I forged – a path that’s worn
because I keep snoozing in a circus. Circling
surplus sleepwalkers move without a purpose;
I’m worthless.
Or Earth’s best when she nurtures (my nurse left).
My words shift
spent chemic blood to remind my words’ intent.
In a sense I’m indigent;
I need my Self to reinvest in the idea of me.
I need rhyming to knot my livelier conceits.
I need lines that I jot to provide a concrete
I can flatten my face against.
Slattern, the way she dressed, but natural, amazing breasts.
Pattern: this pays her rent, happens I spray her legs.
After, we make a mess
to capture the paltriest taste of death.
Life that I grip remembers to take a breath.
My mind in a stint where it stays in an ancient tense,
the life that I’ve lived questions the way it went,
It’s an act just like this that I sprang from.
Damn, son.
I’m not thankful that I’m my Dad’s son.
I’m thankful that I’m handsome,
which means my priorities are messed up:
I’ve wounds these fine threads can’t dress up.
Bleeding the thought is cathartic I guess, but
revisiting notions is sort of carving the next cut.
Yet I’m thankful for the hammer, the anvil, the pencil,
shaping my gait for any hardship I went through.

[Witty]

Very very good.

Please remind me to get back to this after work.

[Inno]

Im not thankful im my dads son
Im thankful im handsom


Lol loved ghat line for some reason. Maybe its the quick turn around. That almost smart ass type of feeling that line gives off. Rest of the verse is littered with lines like that. I love the stop and go short verse quick and to the point style you seem to have perfected. Honestly havent read to many that can write as well as you do in this formatt.

Post more sucker

[Mr. J]

because I keep snoozing in a circus. Circling
surplus sleepwalkers move without a purpose;
I’m worthless.
Or Earth’s best when she nurtures (my nurse left).
My words shift
spent chemic blood to remind my words’ intent.
In a sense I’m indigent;
I need my Self to reinvest in the idea of me.
I need rhyming to knot my livelier conceits.
I need lines that I jot to provide a concrete
I can flatten my face against.


This whole section right here was my fave out of all of this...
really well written, the lines are just long enough to make you want more
I enjoyed the intro and ending as well, but this was the icing for me
just enough to keep you wanting more, & enough to keep you fed
some really nice work man, keep writing

[Eŋg]

thanks fellas

[sral]

Slattern, the way she dressed, but natural, amazing breasts.
Pattern: this pays her rent, happens I spray her legs.
After, we make a mess


This was the only section I didn't particularly like, thought it felt a little out of place given the content and context of the rest of the piece, you know?

Rest was very well written, Rikoshay-esque at times as I read it. Keep that pen moving!

[Eŋg]

last one.

i'll feed you all, and probably the section, within a few days.

[dead man]

one of your most honest and straight forward works in recent memory.

more literal and less aphoristic.

good to see you writing with purpose. it's something i'm struggling with as of late.

thanks.

[UnbornBuddha]

This writing exemplifies self-awareness. Every image almost comes from your own head and from your own observations of your own self. Everything you thought of yourself became highlighted. From dreams to aspirations, as well as vanities, and self-criticisms are all put on the table for display. Emotions effusing into the your exterior, revealing the texture of your skin and pores, which all were represented by this mood you set, and sometimes it was a bit rough along the edges.

One thing I wasn't fond of was the rhyme schemes, they were predictable and didn't have the eloquence that some of your previous pieces have had.

Besides this, I thought it was good and seemed to have significance to you, however slight, because as we know writers can always duplicate this mirage of our inner self, but its simply a guise to connect with the words, we don't fully mean it. But, those who read classical literature a lot, have become in tuned with the ability to see into the heart of the writer and get glimpses of the true nature of their condition as they write this type of candid pieces.

Thank you.

[Split Eight]

Originally Posted by Eŋg

I need rhyming to knot my livelier conceits.
I need lines that I jot to provide a concrete
I can flatten my face against.

Nice. Very squared away & nicely metered.

The life I've lived questions the way it went

Probably my favorite line from anyone in a very long time. Even though it's unassuming, it's the cornerstone of the verse. Illustrates both the futility of being frustrated with the past and the irony of not being entirely at peace with who you are. Thirdly, shows how perspectives shift and we grow to see our actions differently with the passing of time.

It’s an act just like this that I sprang from.
Damn, son.
I’m not thankful that I’m my Dad’s son.
I’m thankful that I’m handsome,
which means my priorities are messed up:
I’ve wounds these fine threads can’t dress up.
Bleeding the thought is cathartic I guess, but
revisiting notions is sort of carving the next cut.
Yet I’m thankful for the hammer, the anvil, the pencil,
shaping my gait for any hardship I went through.

This ending was awesome, especially those first few lines. The "bleeding the thought" to "carving the next cut" bit was my least favorite part of the verse. Otherwise, great drop. Very strong wording throughout, and if most people stitch together a rhyme scheme then you weave together a pair of Nike Flyknits.

Sort of an ode to how seeing value in yourself is what makes life itself valuable. Focuses on the struggle to stay above the surface when it feels like you're treading water. Very much enjoyed the overall composition as well as the adherence to the title/ central purpose.

love how your writing is firmly rooted in itself & entirely self-contained rather than transparently & eclectically drawing on a thousand inspirations at once like so many others here- not that one style is better than the other, it's just that yours seems to be the most independent and self-generated. Obviously we are all constantly influenced by any and everything, but it's like you have an entirely different process.