poetry critical

online poetry workshop

to be a badass angel

how i repulse every asshole
it includes the one
adorn a god
like why
when divinely fucked up
unaware to sensitivity
sensibility i air
shit-filled broken
wings scarring masculine

15 Sep 18

Rated 8 (8) by 2 users.
Active (2): 6, 10
Inactive (0):

(define the words in this poem)
(58 more poems by this author)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha


I don't think this makes sense.

If you are not going to use punctuation then the line breaks should (if possible) lead seamlessly into the next line, you can test this by writing the piece in a mostly solid block, like so.

how I repulse every asshole it includes the one adorn God like why when divinely fucked up unaware to sensitivity sensibility I air shit-filled broken wings scarring masculine.

You can see from the above that the flow without punctuation is terrible.
 — unknown

it does make sense. i can't really see the point of someone who can't read modern poetry -- that is, poetry as it's been modernly written since 19 fucking 10.

'i repulse' -- that's the key to the psychology of this. the atmosphere it's written in.

i read it as,

what is repulsed includes the adore'd god. that one, him. why is it that i open up to, when i open to, such insensitive divinely sensitives who rip me apart and leave me broken.

'unaware to sensitivity' i read as 'his' neanderthal obtuse non-feelings... ?

scarring masculine is complex. like, what scars me or what i myself do to damage myself as i fail, fall, burn up as i recognize the masculine and wimp away... ?

either it's when i am divinely fucked up, or when he is. both at the same time work, since we always think we're the ones in the wrong. adonis may have just been having a bad day.

so, my being, as i am, repulses the masculine types which negatively define me, as i search for authentic being and the actualized physical.

maybe. it's complete and compact, a picture of feelings becoming a felt but unnamed emotion in the poet's consciousness and on the page.
 — cadmium

This is NOT "modern poetry," it's not any type of poetry because it is not a poem.

One cannot just write ANYTHING and call it "poetry."
 — unknown

Graveyard angel; pitted with age.
The horn fallen from her lips
lays held against her hip
by a strip of carved stone.
 — unknown

would you think that a published book of poetry like... one of several like this.... would indicate that it is accepted as poetry?

would you accept that my manuscript and voice recording in the harvard college poetry collection, recorded in 1966, might indicate that other readers thought that this kind of writing is poetry?

and, hrre we are here. and, instead of asking me, you're telling me. that's a stuid thing for you to do to me.

my level of reading and writing allows me to read any kind of text. you have to lean how to read modern poetry... or, any poetry, really. I can't imagine that you're comfortable with yeats or stevens or even eliot.

what education do you have in poetry? do you try to read poetry outloud? if you try reading this outloud you'll find its syntax. as for its content, i think you're more a young adult reader than someone who reads, say, henry james.
 — cadmium

Cadmium, your level of reading and writing is woeful, for a start you have not got a clue about when to capitalize your words. You have also spelt words incorrectly.
You also do not understand the meaning/use of "syntax."
 — unknown

youxre a one-move pixie, so cute. you're too primatve to know your language. in classial times there wasn't even a space between words. people of your inferior intellect wouldn't have been taught to read. you would have seemed dull. you seem dull here.

in fact, i think you learned english as a second language, and, being a narcissist you expect me to dumb down, just because you're so wonderful. or, psychotic.
 — cadmium