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A Stroll Along The Current

Walking along the river that resides along the east
Melancholy as the storm passing over head
I sigh, in self discovery
As the world is still crowded and the air still warm
Minutes, stretched into moments of sgnificance
As I watch and stare, Merely a spectator
Another viewer of Time, as it were
And as I shuffle along, bouncing off the stream
I feel the currents strength,
Rushing through the hour, in solemn waste
But I walk, continuing down my path,
absent minded of any troubled thoughts and a lack of any haste
As time remains continuous, I see its withered face
Stretching farther then the data in my brain
As it is, infinite, a phenomenon, a challenge to explain
And life can be bitter, as we are rarely gifted
With moments to relax
I was told that rest is reserved for the dead
However, I will not abide to these teachings of misconception
So as the world and time is on its own routine
Clocking in and out like components of the stream
I live in lag, patient as a passer by of sorts
And some may call it laziness, for that I have retort
For I know I see life differently then the way that you see yours
Lines and moving objects, blurry and undefined
Emotions and anxiety, forced to stay inside
They bang against the walls and you just say its fine
But my thoughts are all of hope, of love and happiness
And at the river in the east, I saw desertion of the stream
life is leaving one by one, vacading the icy streets
And everything abandoned, completely all obscure
As the so called winner, waiting at our doors
Some have called him winter
As others called him more
But by the state of which things are
At first they seem quite sad
But I have been watching from before
And only the subtlest change was had
Except that now loneliness doesn't walk the streets
It stays secluded, but still not alone
In boxes made of brick
And no more breaks in silence made from our politness
Funny how these walls protect us from the cold
But the real enemy is ourselves, and ourselves alone

15 Oct 15

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What writers are you influenced by? I am unsure about your purpose here. Your attitude and tone are in a good place in this poem, but your mechanics are all out of whack, and not in a good way!

I'd love to know what your goals is. It feels like you have no intention of growing and editing, and it shows in your writing. Get some Prozac.

Disease and death grow in stagnation, and I don't see any signs that you understand such a concept, and its implications, and that's just, sad.

Maybe you need to walk along the ocean, not the river to bring some perspective in.
 — unknown

 — kripto

you read my other stuff or is this from only this one?
I had stopped writing for a while and just trying to get back into the mind set, a lot of my work is soul for that purpose maybe those are the ones I shouldn't post here but I like having a record of my stuff and I don't have a steady computer at the moment so it is what it is. And I guess the ultimate 'goal' of this piece is that we are always surrounded by others but we are still rarely not alone, and that we are social creatures with a need of social interaction. And your "Disease and death grow in stagnation, and I don't see any signs that you understand such a concept, and its implications, and that's just, sad." in my opinion served souly to be condesending so if that works for you great, and for perspective what is it you mean exactly. Because your comments here are more than critiques on the poem but on my self and how I believe. Please tell me how by reading this small poem, you were able to figure me out as a human being. And as my rebuttal to your attempt to assess me I would say you have an ego problem and for the fun of it I'd say you have social personality disorders, which more than not likely holds true but mostly my point is that I can make false conclusions by your words as well. Thank you so much for imparting wisdom upon me and have a fantastical day....
 — kripto

There are a lot of interesting thoughts here, and in some ways I like how they just tumble out at the reader like your driving really fast past signs and trying to read them. (or perhaps carried really fast by a swift current). That said, there are thoughts I honestly can't make sense of -- what does it mean to call someone winter or to be patient as a passer-by... isn't a passer-by going somewhere by definition? Also I need more concrete images to tie these big ideas to. When most of the nouns in a poem are words like loneliness and laziness and winner and life and time... there's just too much abstract thought and not enough real imagery. I do think there is a very strong core here though and I think it could be awesome with revision.
 — PolarPanda