“She’s not dead” Repeat after me the disease
Concubine fleas bitten by swollen trees
Leeching poison from yellow sap
Bleeding myself from beneath the tap
Glistening leaves recall volatile memories
Self-destruct in a flash of alcoholic vapor
Made by their own destiny, “that’s not true”
“this, too”, you say, spoken in vulgar vernacular
Forbidden language filters through
Toothless gums, hidden tongues and bile
Wrung from years of imbibing their sorrow
Wandering a dank alley way, the long black male
Grasps a joyless faith with one hand
Uses it to cleanse the massless land
Turning a holy place into Schrodinger’s box
A vapid populace full of motionless sand
Ultraviolet wine spilled on the city’s back
Wasted potential nearly picks up the slack
Sing glaringly blind into the horizon-less sea
For the wrong generation that never came to be
The whole poem is uninteresting gibberish, on the lines of
Adenosine stacks of glaring radium red
Heed the wholesome host turning bituminous coal to bread
which anybody can knock up in a matter of minutes.
“She’s not dead” Repeat after me the disease *
Concubine fleas bitten by swollen trees
Leeching poison from yellow sap
Bleeding myself from beneath the tap **
Glistening leaves recall volatile memories
Self-destruct in a flash of alcoholic vapor
Made by their own destiny, “that’s not true
“this, too”, you say, spoken in vulgar vernacular ***
Forbidden language filters through
Toothless gums, hidden tongues and bile
Wrung from years of imbibing their sorrow
Wandering a dank alley way, the long black male ****
Grasps a joyless faith with one hand
Uses it to cleanse the massless land
Turning a holy place into Schrodinger’s box
A vapid populace full of motionless sand *****
Ultraviolet wine spilled on the city’s back
Wasted potential nearly picks up the slack
Sing glaringly blind into the horizon-less sea
For the wrong generation that never came to be
*: The entry line is kind of tough to get through for a few reasons. The most important is the random subject. A girl. It just seems arbitrary after reading the rest. Following it with “Repeat after me the disease”not only feels poor to say out loud, but also frames the poem to be a dialogue which it fails to support later.
**: Now you’ve used “myself”and really confused the character dynamic of your opener. I believe this poem is about a generation lost to mindless fun through the vehicle of alcohol and substance abuse. You could maybe try “Bleeding them from beneath the tap”since the previous lines seem to be talking about women. As indicated by the words “she” and “concubine” in this part.
***: Here we have more dialogue confusion as now you have used “you say” to characterize the recipient of the disease or the observer of it. It feels very Dante/Virgil but fails to establish clear roles and characters. I do however love the portion of the line “spoken in a vulgar vernacular.”I like the differentiation of languages within a language and how being drunk could be its own diluted form of English and communication because of the inhibition shift and how we tend communicate less eloquently in the state. Often for the worse.
****: I am lost on this line. Is the “long black male” the dark alleyway itself or is it intended to be some form of metaphor for the trajectory of the people or group that is subjecting themselves to the disease? Maybe try narrow instead of long and change male to something else too.
*****: Personally I’m not a fan of this sand metaphor, and find the previous Schrödinger reference to be used improperly. You’ve made too many clear distinctions about the future and direction of the characters for the “this or that” nature of Schrödinger. It is presented as truth that is not dependent on observation. Also sand tends always to be motionless. I’d look for another vessel for this illustration if I were you.
All in all I really like the idea, but I think it fails in trying to be too pretty and metaphoric without a stable base. If you cut out the dialogue and change a few metaphors to be more synergistic with the actual concept I think it could be very good. Good luck.
we expect a bit more feedback in the mild forum/mod
This poem is full of interesting imagery but seems to not quite get across what it's trying to say. In the last stanza I would remove "nearly" and maybe change "picks" to "picking"