poetry critical

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You Can't Win
unknown

His level of mutiny was a strange variation
 1
on the "game" Russian roulette.
 2
 
 
He succeeded, but not really, and not
 3
immediately, surely not painlessly. As he
 4
began to lose it he was the color of a card of
 5
hearts; speaking of hearts, his could not
 6
function very well with a bullet lodged in it,
 7
as he missed the point completely.
 8
 
 
The wheel spun in his head,
 9
as the bullet hit the wrong place at the wrong
 10
time, when he realized it wasn’t worth it, was
 11
indeed like the chamber, and this type of revolver
 12
 
 
was enough to drive him crazy. He thought about
 13
the money he had in the bank, not much, but, he
 14
supposed nothing compared to that if he needed
 15
some from a blood bank,
 16
 
 
and then, was pinned by a pair of lethal die,
 17
seeming to stare at him—
 18
 
 
this decided the next few weeks of his life.
 19
 
 
How he survived, even temporarily, was very
 20
impossible; but he managed to survive regardless,
 21
for sure by some miracle.
 22
 
 
“You’re lucky to be alive,” the doctor said.
 23
 
 
“No duh,” the idiot almost mouthed, but
 24
mouth he could not. He was too tired.
 25
 
 
It’s never safe to gamble with your life,
 26
but this blundering idiot would never
 27
figure this out. His heart stopped before he
 28
let it fully register
 29
 
 
the chips
 30
on his fading arteries.
 31

4 Apr 08

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Comments:

clever story-poem.  
i like how you gamble with words;
the lethal die slapped me on first read, but i got it.  =-)
love the ending and your use of idiot.  

(Line 5 reads a wee bit clunky, is all).
thanks.
 — jenakajoffer

excellent poem.
A narrative poem, after a very long time and well written too.
 — trochee

thanks guys.

Jen, i'll see what i can fix about that clunky line. if you get this, what do you think really made it so clunky?

Trochee, thanks. i do apologize for the delay.
 — listen

i like the references you make, all
pointing to gambling with life -- in
this case, one's very own.

the point really is: this is already the
absolute escape we're looking for...
and toiling is the only way we learn
the biggest lesson and are taken to
where we ought to be.
: )
 — fractalcore

Fractalcore, thanks. i'm glad you got this poem down so well. i really like it when people try to analyze what i've written and take it to the next level, as you did.

your comment is absolutely grand. thank you for the encouragement.
 — listen

i find it really annoying on pc
that lately it seems it doesn't let me stay logged in
very long.

listen,
no, that line is not so bad as i re-read now,
it might be the length, and when i first read the poem,
"the color of a card of"
just tongued me oddly.
it's probably my own brain clunking through the night
afterall.
thanks,
=-)
 — jenakajoffer

thanks Jen. (though if it really is clunky, i'd be more than happy to fix it ...)

i changed the opening lines a little, do you think it works?
 — listen

hmm, you know
i think it might sound tigheter (if that's an interest to you)
if you just said "of Russian roulette; he succeeded"
(and then proceed with line 3 in the 2nd stanza).

hey just a thought,
happy to be thinking. =-)
 — jenakajoffer

get rid of 'on the suicidal game' in L2,..... we know what russian roulette is.

why is there a period in L4?

thats as far as i got
 — joshcoops

change. will consider more.

i am sorry this was boring.
 — listen

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