A Baptist Observes Mardi Gras

[ChristopherSea]

final version

A Baptist Observes Mardi Gras


The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

but the gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade
and disavow these dark sheep
who vandalize the twilight.

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

and lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their neo-pagan orgy.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
while shaking canes and rattles,
snaking along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
in which faith could never thrive.

Todd/Tectak/Rowens/trueE edit version 4.3 You folks are great!


------------------------------------------------
[code]Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade
and disavow these dark sheep
who vandalize the twilight.

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

and lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
while shaking canes and rattles,
snaking along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith could never thrive in.

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2 Thanks gents!

-----------------------------------------------------------
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep,
as they vandalize twilight.

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine route

to lurch The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch.

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in.


Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[Todd]

Hi Chris,

For me this is a good concept weighed down by too many modifiers. It also doesn't seem to get to the point quick enough. Comments below:

Sol warily closes--It got dark. Sol just feels a bit too heavy handed here for a simple concept. The personification doesn't buy you anything in my opinion
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

--warily, reticent, averse...it just seems too much. It's like you're groping for the best word and ending up with something less.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,--okay some action
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.--This sounds interesting, but mostly just feels like filler. Nothing happens. I question whether you need it. Show them immortalizing the night, and it would likely be stronger. This to me is one of those "I am going to ask you a question" strophes...just ask the question

They snake asphalt streets;--I like snake. I feel you could do more with the image. Asphalt streets doesn't add much. Try pushing this more
drink spirits from bottles,--Here's another idea that's cool phrasing that you could push more. I feel you're just brushing against the content that you could actually have
then dance the night lifeless,--Like this line. If it were "They dance the night lifeless" it might serve as a stronger opening line
shaking canes and rattles.--again like the spirits line you can push this more

In ill-defined ranks, they--ill-defined is like unique. It doesn't do anything for you. Why the break on they?
reel The Big-Uneasy--I like this play on the name
on circuitous paths--again an image showing the type of path would be better than circuitous
befitting the anguine. --I like the word choice. That said, we're back to the black asphalt. You have that line and these two doing little to advance the poem. What do these two lines really give you?

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;--I'd be tempted to put the real road ahead of the fanciful road. That said, I need more dark fantasy leading up to these lines
just idle routes to swill--I like swill here
this eve oblivious.

Dim wits in beer light,
who seek neon beacons
and sing in false temples
that no one has faith in.--More build up to get here.

I hope that was at least helpful in some way. It didn't work for me. That said, I think if you push yourself you could take this somewhere interesting.

Best,

Todd

[ChristopherSea]

Todd thanks for the great critique and suggestions. The opening was attempting to reveal that no matter how the crazy humans behave, the Gods have no interest in the silly celebration. I could change that to the Gods, I suppose. I will try to address your other queries by editting the poem in the light of your reactions/impressions.

Todd, see if version 2 reads better for you.

Much obliged for your time and effort!/Chris

[Todd]

Hi Chris,

I want to be careful with the edit on reading my own biases into this. That said, here are some comments for you:

todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs--Better than Sol, and a nice word to break on. This strophe still feels too tame of an opening. We start with Carnival as the title and then you give a soft opening. I would encourage you to hit harder. Demand that the reader read it.
on this evening’s façade,--Facade in and of itself is a nice idea. The night wears a mask of sorts. It still feels too tame to me, as cautious as your sun below
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.--now we have another observer or non-observer if you will not someone/something acting. I get the we don't want to see what happens in the darkness. I just think you need to get there quicker. Or at least when you do hit the action make it intense.

Queer zombies awaken--One layer too distant here. Show us what awaken looks like. Have them rise...also queer may have different unwanted connotations now a days, just something to think about not necessarily a problem.
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites--show us something here. What specifically? Why are the Gods turning away. Why is the sun shielding its gaze
to immortalize this night.--again details

They dance the eve lifeless, --Might just be me but I preferred night to eve
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.--this strophe is better in that it feels more in the moment.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.--like these details

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

I'm not sure if I'm just being a crank (probably), but I hope not.

Best,

Todd

[tectak]

todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade, What meaning are you ascribing to facade? I ask because I do not know. Facade is simply the front...so what meaneth thou to be so obscure? There is more.
as the sun cautiously You are pedantically profligate...as I am now. You are over modifying to impress to the extent that it reads as though written in a school poetry contest. The "cautiously aloof" combination is indecipherable in terms of imagery.
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken Queer is well enough hijacked to be unacceptably acceptable in any other sense than of a rampant homosexual...especially when used as yet another bizarre modifier. Do you mean strange, peculiar, or definitively and exclusively descriptive in that straight zombies remain asleep? Loose
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night. I get the carnival characters but fail to be sufficiently image-replete to consider the evening "immortalized" What CAN you see that I can not?

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles. Shock horrror that "they" should drink from bottles. This is a far-out carnival. Why a moment ago I saw a guy put out his smoke IN AN ASH TRAY. Sheesh!

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent. Dreadful, chris. Just dreadful. Quite apart from the deliberate (...and this is fine) absence of rhyme you try me by STILL seeming to have difficulty picking a non-rhyme

There’s no Yellow Brick Road, Never was....your point is?
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route Why idle? Why anguine? ...and how can a "lazy snake road" swill? You are deluding yourself and the reader by these convoluted hyberboles. It is just not worthy
to swill this eve oblivious. I am now worried. I is like word dysleia..dislekae...ponderification.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;[[
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in. Who, what,why,where, when? Puzzled? You soon will be

Hi chris,
Speak to me...but clearly. This is a uniformly enigmatic piece of frippery. I would love to say that it ticked any box for me...but no. The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson via todd.That's crit.
Best,
tectak


todd edit version 2 [b]Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[Todd]

One other thing I forgot to mention:

Constructions like "cautiously closed"

There has got to be a better verb or some better action that can replace these adverb/verbs.

When I read these I always think there's a word out there that we haven't found yet.

Okay, I'll shut up now.

[ChristopherSea]

One other thing I forgot to mention:

Constructions like "cautiously closed"

There has got to be a better verb or some better action that can replace these adverb/verbs.

When I read these I always think there's a word out there that we haven't found yet.

Okay, I'll shut up now.

No, it is all good Todd and I do appreciate your second pass. It shall help me smooth out the next edit! Much obliged Todd

---

todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade, What meaning are you ascribing to facade? I ask because I do not know. Facade is simply the front...so what meaneth thou to be so obscure? There is more.
as the sun cautiously You are pedantically profligate...as I am now. You are over modifying to impress to the extent that it reads as though written in a school poetry contest. The "cautiously aloof" combination is indecipherable in terms of imagery.
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken Queer is well enough hijacked to be unacceptably acceptable in any other sense than of a rampant homosexual...especially when used as yet another bizarre modifier. Do you mean strange, peculiar, or definitively and exclusively descriptive in that straight zombies remain asleep? Loose
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night. I get the carnival characters but fail to be sufficiently image-replete to consider the evening "immortalized" What CAN you see that I can not?

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles. Shock horrror that "they" should drink from bottles. This is a far-out carnival. Why a moment ago I saw a guy put out his smoke IN AN ASH TRAY. Sheesh!

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent. Dreadful, chris. Just dreadful. Quite apart from the deliberate (...and this is fine) absence of rhyme you try me by STILL seeming to have difficulty picking a non-rhyme

There’s no Yellow Brick Road, Never was....your point is?
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route Why idle? Why anguine? ...and how can a "lazy snake road" swill? You are deluding yourself and the reader by these convoluted hyberboles. It is just not worthy
to swill this eve oblivious. I am now worried. I is like word dysleia..dislekae...ponderification.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;[[
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in. Who, what,why,where, when? Puzzled? You soon will be

Hi chris,
Speak to me...but clearly. This is a uniformly enigmatic piece of frippery. I would love to say that it ticked any box for me...but no. The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson via todd.That's crit.
Best,
tectak


todd edit version 2 [b]Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Thanks Tom for the line by line critique! I am not certain that I detailed this enough to make it clear that it was about the silly antics of Mardi Gras. Nonetheless, many of your points are well taken and I can strive for more clarity in the next edit. Attemping to garnish it with rhyme may be beyond my patience with this piece. To address some of your queries: The facade is that these crazy drunks are pretending to celebrate the start of a holy christian holiday. Queer hasn't meant gay since the 60's, wake up grandpa! idle was used for senseless, because they have no destination. Anguine because they meander about and the snake-like conotation refers the reptilian/sleazy people. As for the close, if they are on a mock pilgrimage and celebrating christianity, bars are no place to pray in, hey on second thought maybe they are! I am sure these explanations don't improve the poem for you, but it may help you to throw a word substitution or two to me. I always apreciate your feedback and time my fellow poet!

It should be clearer, with a better flow and less ambiguity now in the Todd/tectak edit version 3, I think!

[ChristopherSea]

Hi Chris,

I want to be careful with the edit on reading my own biases into this. That said, here are some comments for you:

todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs--Better than Sol, and a nice word to break on. This strophe still feels too tame of an opening. We start with Carnival as the title and then you give a soft opening. I would encourage you to hit harder. Demand that the reader read it.
on this evening’s façade,--Facade in and of itself is a nice idea. The night wears a mask of sorts. It still feels too tame to me, as cautious as your sun below
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.--now we have another observer or non-observer if you will not someone/something acting. I get the we don't want to see what happens in the darkness. I just think you need to get there quicker. Or at least when you do hit the action make it intense.

Queer zombies awaken--One layer too distant here. Show us what awaken looks like. Have them rise...also queer may have different unwanted connotations now a days, just something to think about not necessarily a problem.
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites--show us something here. What specifically? Why are the Gods turning away. Why is the sun shielding its gaze
to immortalize this night.--again details

They dance the eve lifeless, --Might just be me but I preferred night to eve
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.--this strophe is better in that it feels more in the moment.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.--like these details

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

I'm not sure if I'm just being a crank (probably), but I hope not.

Best,

Todd

On the contrary, I believe it improves with each exchange and subsequent edit and I really am grateful for your input!!!/Chris

[tectak]

One other thing I forgot to mention:

Constructions like "cautiously closed"

There has got to be a better verb or some better action that can replace these adverb/verbs.

When I read these I always think there's a word out there that we haven't found yet.

Okay, I'll shut up now.

No, it is all good Todd and I do appreciate your second pass. It shall help me smooth out the next edit! Much obliged Todd

---

todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade, What meaning are you ascribing to facade? I ask because I do not know. Facade is simply the front...so what meaneth thou to be so obscure? There is more.
as the sun cautiously You are pedantically profligate...as I am now. You are over modifying to impress to the extent that it reads as though written in a school poetry contest. The "cautiously aloof" combination is indecipherable in terms of imagery.
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken Queer is well enough hijacked to be unacceptably acceptable in any other sense than of a rampant homosexual...especially when used as yet another bizarre modifier. Do you mean strange, peculiar, or definitively and exclusively descriptive in that straight zombies remain asleep? Loose
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night. I get the carnival characters but fail to be sufficiently image-replete to consider the evening "immortalized" What CAN you see that I can not?

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles. Shock horrror that "they" should drink from bottles. This is a far-out carnival. Why a moment ago I saw a guy put out his smoke IN AN ASH TRAY. Sheesh!

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent. Dreadful, chris. Just dreadful. Quite apart from the deliberate (...and this is fine) absence of rhyme you try me by STILL seeming to have difficulty picking a non-rhyme

There’s no Yellow Brick Road, Never was....your point is?
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route Why idle? Why anguine? ...and how can a "lazy snake road" swill? You are deluding yourself and the reader by these convoluted hyberboles. It is just not worthy
to swill this eve oblivious. I am now worried. I is like word dysleia..dislekae...ponderification.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;[[
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in. Who, what,why,where, when? Puzzled? You soon will be

Hi chris,
Speak to me...but clearly. This is a uniformly enigmatic piece of frippery. I would love to say that it ticked any box for me...but no. The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson via todd.That's crit.
Best,
tectak


todd edit version 2 [b]Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Thanks Tom for the line by line critique! I am not certain that I detailed this enough to make it clear that it was about the silly antics of Mardi Gras.I got that immediately Nonetheless, many of your points are well taken and I can strive for more clarity in the next edit. Attemping to garnish it with rhyme may be beyond my patience with this piece. To address some of your queries: The facade Yes. But you inadvertantly anthropomorphise the "eve". When you use facade in the way you mean, it is to describe an emotional cover-up or deception but you attributed the facade not to the drunks but to the "eve" that these crazy drunks are pretending to celebrate the start of a holy christian holiday. Queer hasn't meant gay since the 60's, It didn't mean gay in the sixties BUT that is how it was, and is, still used...unfortunately. "strange" is still available! wake up grandpa! idle was used for senselessSince when? He knocked him idle? What you are doing is idle? I am lost and idle? I don't know where I'm going so I will just be idle? No. It won't wash, because they have no destination. Anguine because they meander about and the snake-like conotation refers the reptilian/sleazy peopleYou said the snake word earlier on so now you should cash in on it with a bon mot....er....how about....er....where did I see the word...oh yes....you just used it....MEANDER. As for the close, if they are on a mock pilgrimage and celebrating christianity, Both Mardi gras and Lent are pre-Christian and pagan in origin. You could make more of this "misconception" to raise the heat of the piece.bars are no place to pray in, hey on second thought maybe they are! I am sure these explanations don't improve the poem for you, but it may help you to throw a word substitution or two to me. I always apreciate your feedback and time my fellow poet!

It should be clearer, with a better flow and less ambiguity now in the Todd/tectak edit version 3, I think!

[ChristopherSea]

One other thing I forgot to mention:

Constructions like "cautiously closed"

There has got to be a better verb or some better action that can replace these adverb/verbs.

When I read these I always think there's a word out there that we haven't found yet.

Okay, I'll shut up now.

No, it is all good Todd and I do appreciate your second pass. It shall help me smooth out the next edit! Much obliged Todd

---

Thanks Tom for the line by line critique! I am not certain that I detailed this enough to make it clear that it was about the silly antics of Mardi Gras.I got that immediately Nonetheless, many of your points are well taken and I can strive for more clarity in the next edit. Attemping to garnish it with rhyme may be beyond my patience with this piece. To address some of your queries: The facade Yes. But you inadvertantly anthropomorphise the "eve". When you use facade in the way you mean, it is to describe an emotional cover-up or deception but you attributed the facade not to the drunks but to the "eve" that these crazy drunks are pretending to celebrate the start of a holy christian holiday. Queer hasn't meant gay since the 60's, It didn't mean gay in the sixties BUT that is how it was, and is, still used...unfortunately. "strange" is still available! wake up grandpa! idle was used for senselessSince when? He knocked him idle? What you are doing is idle? I am lost and idle? I don't know where I'm going so I will just be idle? No. It won't wash, because they have no destination. Anguine because they meander about and the snake-like conotation refers the reptilian/sleazy peopleYou said the snake word earlier on so now you should cash in on it with a bon mot....er....how about....er....where did I see the word...oh yes....you just used it....MEANDER. As for the close, if they are on a mock pilgrimage and celebrating christianity, Both Mardi gras and Lent are pre-Christian and pagan in origin. You could make more of this "misconception" to raise the heat of the piece.bars are no place to pray in, hey on second thought maybe they are! I am sure these explanations don't improve the poem for you, but it may help you to throw a word substitution or two to me. I always apreciate your feedback and time my fellow poet!

It should be clearer, with a better flow and less ambiguity now in the Todd/tectak edit version 3, I think!

Got you! I have already addressed most of those problems in the new version. I can throw out the 'queer' for 'strange'. The 'eve's facade' can be replaced with the 'crowd's facade' I think. Pagan flies as well as Christian, because God would still turn his back on either (Pagans behaving normally or Christians behaving badly, ha ha...). I'll be back with some more tweeks! Thanks for staying with me, my friend -in-pen!/Chris

---

No, it is all good Todd and I do appreciate your second pass. It shall help me smooth out the next edit! Much obliged Todd

---

Thanks Tom for the line by line critique! I am not certain that I detailed this enough to make it clear that it was about the silly antics of Mardi Gras.I got that immediately Nonetheless, many of your points are well taken and I can strive for more clarity in the next edit. Attemping to garnish it with rhyme may be beyond my patience with this piece. To address some of your queries: The facade Yes. But you inadvertantly anthropomorphise the "eve". When you use facade in the way you mean, it is to describe an emotional cover-up or deception but you attributed the facade not to the drunks but to the "eve" that these crazy drunks are pretending to celebrate the start of a holy christian holiday. Queer hasn't meant gay since the 60's, It didn't mean gay in the sixties BUT that is how it was, and is, still used...unfortunately. "strange" is still available! wake up grandpa! idle was used for senselessSince when? He knocked him idle? What you are doing is idle? I am lost and idle? I don't know where I'm going so I will just be idle? No. It won't wash, because they have no destination. Anguine because they meander about and the snake-like conotation refers the reptilian/sleazy peopleYou said the snake word earlier on so now you should cash in on it with a bon mot....er....how about....er....where did I see the word...oh yes....you just used it....MEANDER. As for the close, if they are on a mock pilgrimage and celebrating christianity, Both Mardi gras and Lent are pre-Christian and pagan in origin. You could make more of this "misconception" to raise the heat of the piece.bars are no place to pray in, hey on second thought maybe they are! I am sure these explanations don't improve the poem for you, but it may help you to throw a word substitution or two to me. I always apreciate your feedback and time my fellow poet!

It should be clearer, with a better flow and less ambiguity now in the Todd/tectak edit version 3, I think!

Got you! I have already addressed most of those problems in the new version. I can throw out the 'queer' for 'strange'. The 'eve's facade' can be replaced with the 'crowd's facade' I think. I replaced 'idle' with 'languid'. Pagan flies as well as Christian, because God would still turn his back on either (Pagans behaving normally or Christians behaving badly, ha ha...). I'll be back with some more tweeks in my Todd/Tectak edit version 4! Thanks for staying with me, my friend -in-pen!/Chris

[tectak]

Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awokenYou do not need to modify zombies. They are "queer" enough already. As I said before, by over-defining you imply that they are but a sub-sector genus. Queer zombies, black zombies, affectacious zombies, sleeping zombies. Why not "The zombies have awoken..."
and mad harlequins alike; This is weak because you have nothing to say which identifies the Harlequin concept...why mention mad? Harlequins ARE mad, buffoons, idiotic, comedic, pantomime. It is almost tautological. Frankly, the "connect" is tautological , too. And....alike. not good
they believe their inane ritesInane is preachy to a great degree. If "they" believe in their "rites" those "rites" are as valid as any religious doctrine...all being faith (or belief) based.

will immortalize this night.Be very careful with rumples in the carpet of time. "Immortalize" should not be used for recurring events unless those events have a low predicabilty. Bloody Mardi Gras is every year. The carpet of time gets shucked over and over again...but but it is hard to tell one MG from any other...is that immortalization?
God turns an aloof shoulderSez who? Neither Lent nor Mardi G are god's concern. Again, you make huge assumptions about your god...I could just as validly say he tunes in every year for a bloody good night's entertainment...but enough of this opinionating...I apologise...poetically, it makes little impact BECAUSE there is no veracity or contra-argument. You have TOLD me something, but not SHOWN me anything. By the way, if you "turn your shoulder" YOU indicate aloofness....not your shoulder. "God aloofly turns his shoulder" might just work but it is still an image wasted on me.
on this eve’s garish façade;Already commented on. The facade is of the people, not of the evening. Re-order the words.

spurning this flock as his own,What? spurning....as? Spurning is COMPLETELY the wrong word here. Perhaps "Spurning this flock though his own" if that is what you mean... or "Spurning this flock as though not his own". Get it CLEAR in your thinking what you mean to say and SAY it CLEARLY. You are over-modifying, over-structuring, over-excited by language. Better over than under...but arguably
that forages in twilight. What's the big deal? I see nothing to offend ANY god if his flock forages in twilight. Where I sit the bloody sheep outside my window are chomping away 'til dusk and beyond. Macdonalds is full all bloody night! Nothing from the papal pharynx on this devilry
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.BEST STANZA! Just TRY to get rid of the and..and..and-ness of the WHOLE piece

They reel The Big-Uneasy Someone once said if it's in a song it's a cliche. This is a film. The same applies. Is it a film reel? What do you mean?
in ill-defined conga lines,Why comma? You do not wish to connect to the next line, do you? Thought not. Is this it?
" They reel the Big Uneasy in ill defined conga lines.
After feasting like gluttons in anticipation of Lent, their pilgrimage goes nowhere at a languid, anguine pace." Now, I don't say I like it, but I understand it. It is STILL preachy but you obviously like "...languid, anguine.." so who am I to complain ( I like it a little, not a lot. Over modified. "Pace" is probably contra-indicated when described as you have.)

after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.Horrible use of language. Everything that can be wrong here, is wrong in one short line. "Swill this eve" is just not copacetic; "swill this eve oblivious" is worse; "Swill (anything) oblivious" almost hurts. Sorry.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in. You know, if you cut out the crazy line splits you might, just might, be able to see the other flaws more clearly:
"Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon;
stumbling into false temples
in which faith could not exist.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!

I'm glad your enjoying it! Serious point Chris. The concept here is pointedly and vertically YOUR opinion of the people at Mardi gras, and to a degree your thoughts on the occasion itself. The preachy-screechies come through EVEN THOUGH I AM SURE that is not your primary aim. It is an issue. This piece suffers from lack of bright, intense imagery more than usual because of the true joyous, intrinsic nature of the subject. It is almost as though you are a pontificating kill-joy.
To make YOUR case you must give imaginative and seering evidence to back up your opinion...even if you rant it out. There is much here to go at...you could start by cutting out the utterly pointless and disrupting stanza breaks. The whole thing is haltingly terse on a verse by verse basis...one ill-defined vignette following another. Cohesion first, line breaks after.
Best,
tectak


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[Todd]

I'll try to get back later for a more thorough comment on the new revision, but after considering Tom's comment on stanza/strophe breaks: I agree.

I don't think there is a reason to break it into strophes.

[ChristopherSea]

Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awokenYou do not need to modify zombies. They are "queer" enough already. As I said before, by over-defining you imply that they are but a sub-sector genus. Queer zombies, black zombies, affectacious zombies, sleeping zombies. Why not "The zombies have awoken..."
and mad harlequins alike; This is weak because you have nothing to say which identifies the Harlequin concept...why mention mad? Harlequins ARE mad, buffoons, idiotic, comedic, pantomime. It is almost tautological. Frankly, the "connect" is tautological , too. And....alike. not good
they believe their inane ritesInane is preachy to a great degree. If "they" believe in their "rites" those "rites" are as valid as any religious doctrine...all being faith (or belief) based.

will immortalize this night.Be very careful with rumples in the carpet of time. "Immortalize" should not be used for recurring events unless those events have a low predicabilty. Bloody Mardi Gras is every year. The carpet of time gets shucked over and over again...but but it is hard to tell one MG from any other...is that immortalization?
God turns an aloof shoulderSez who? Neither Lent nor Mardi G are god's concern. Again, you make huge assumptions about your god...I could just as validly say he tunes in every year for a bloody good night's entertainment...but enough of this opinionating...I apologise...poetically, it makes little impact BECAUSE there is no veracity or contra-argument. You have TOLD me something, but not SHOWN me anything. By the way, if you "turn your shoulder" YOU indicate aloofness....not your shoulder. "God aloofly turns his shoulder" might just work but it is still an image wasted on me.
on this eve’s garish façade;Already commented on. The facade is of the people, not of the evening. Re-order the words.

spurning this flock as his own,What? spurning....as? Spurning is COMPLETELY the wrong word here. Perhaps "Spurning this flock though his own" if that is what you mean... or "Spurning this flock as though not his own". Get it CLEAR in your thinking what you mean to say and SAY it CLEARLY. You are over-modifying, over-structuring, over-excited by language. Better over than under...but arguably
that forages in twilight. What's the big deal? I see nothing to offend ANY god if his flock forages in twilight. Where I sit the bloody sheep outside my window are chomping away 'til dusk and beyond. Macdonalds is full all bloody night! Nothing from the papal pharynx on this devilry
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.BEST STANZA! Just TRY to get rid of the and..and..and-ness of the WHOLE piece

They reel The Big-Uneasy Someone once said if it's in a song it's a cliche. This is a film. The same applies. Is it a film reel? What do you mean?
in ill-defined conga lines,Why comma? You do not wish to connect to the next line, do you? Thought not. Is this it?
" They reel the Big Uneasy in ill defined conga lines.
After feasting like gluttons in anticipation of Lent, their pilgrimage goes nowhere at a languid, anguine pace." Now, I don't say I like it, but I understand it. It is STILL preachy but you obviously like "...languid, anguine.." so who am I to complain ( I like it a little, not a lot. Over modified. "Pace" is probably contra-indicated when described as you have.)

after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.Horrible use of language. Everything that can be wrong here, is wrong in one short line. "Swill this eve" is just not copacetic; "swill this eve oblivious" is worse; "Swill (anything) oblivious" almost hurts. Sorry.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in. You know, if you cut out the crazy line splits you might, just might, be able to see the other flaws more clearly:
"Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon;
stumbling into false temples
in which faith could not exist.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!

I'm glad your enjoying it! Serious point Chris. The concept here is pointedly and vertically YOUR opinion of the people at Mardi gras, and to a degree your thoughts on the occasion itself. The preachy-screechies come through EVEN THOUGH I AM SURE that is not your primary aim. It is an issue. This piece suffers from lack of bright, intense imagery more than usual because of the true joyous, intrinsic nature of the subject. It is almost as though you are a pontificating kill-joy.
To make YOUR case you must give imaginative and seering evidence to back up your opinion...even if you rant it out. There is much here to go at...you could start by cutting out the utterly pointless and disrupting stanza breaks. The whole thing is haltingly terse on a verse by verse basis...one ill-defined vignette following another. Cohesion first, line breaks after.
Best,
tectak


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

---

Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awokenYou do not need to modify zombies. They are "queer" enough already. As I said before, by over-defining you imply that they are but a sub-sector genus. Queer zombies, black zombies, affectacious zombies, sleeping zombies. Why not "The zombies have awoken..."
and mad harlequins alike; This is weak because you have nothing to say which identifies the Harlequin concept...why mention mad? Harlequins ARE mad, buffoons, idiotic, comedic, pantomime. It is almost tautological. Frankly, the "connect" is tautological , too. And....alike. not good
they believe their inane ritesInane is preachy to a great degree. If "they" believe in their "rites" those "rites" are as valid as any religious doctrine...all being faith (or belief) based.

will immortalize this night.Be very careful with rumples in the carpet of time. "Immortalize" should not be used for recurring events unless those events have a low predicabilty. Bloody Mardi Gras is every year. The carpet of time gets shucked over and over again...but but it is hard to tell one MG from any other...is that immortalization?
God turns an aloof shoulderSez who? Neither Lent nor Mardi G are god's concern. Again, you make huge assumptions about your god...I could just as validly say he tunes in every year for a bloody good night's entertainment...but enough of this opinionating...I apologise...poetically, it makes little impact BECAUSE there is no veracity or contra-argument. You have TOLD me something, but not SHOWN me anything. By the way, if you "turn your shoulder" YOU indicate aloofness....not your shoulder. "God aloofly turns his shoulder" might just work but it is still an image wasted on me.
on this eve’s garish façade;Already commented on. The facade is of the people, not of the evening. Re-order the words.

spurning this flock as his own,What? spurning....as? Spurning is COMPLETELY the wrong word here. Perhaps "Spurning this flock though his own" if that is what you mean... or "Spurning this flock as though not his own". Get it CLEAR in your thinking what you mean to say and SAY it CLEARLY. You are over-modifying, over-structuring, over-excited by language. Better over than under...but arguably
that forages in twilight. What's the big deal? I see nothing to offend ANY god if his flock forages in twilight. Where I sit the bloody sheep outside my window are chomping away 'til dusk and beyond. Macdonalds is full all bloody night! Nothing from the papal pharynx on this devilry
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.BEST STANZA! Just TRY to get rid of the and..and..and-ness of the WHOLE piece

They reel The Big-Uneasy Someone once said if it's in a song it's a cliche. This is a film. The same applies. Is it a film reel? What do you mean?
in ill-defined conga lines,Why comma? You do not wish to connect to the next line, do you? Thought not. Is this it?
" They reel the Big Uneasy in ill defined conga lines.
After feasting like gluttons in anticipation of Lent, their pilgrimage goes nowhere at a languid, anguine pace." Now, I don't say I like it, but I understand it. It is STILL preachy but you obviously like "...languid, anguine.." so who am I to complain ( I like it a little, not a lot. Over modified. "Pace" is probably contra-indicated when described as you have.)

after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.Horrible use of language. Everything that can be wrong here, is wrong in one short line. "Swill this eve" is just not copacetic; "swill this eve oblivious" is worse; "Swill (anything) oblivious" almost hurts. Sorry.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in. You know, if you cut out the crazy line splits you might, just might, be able to see the other flaws more clearly:
"Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon;
stumbling into false temples
in which faith could not exist.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!

I'm glad your enjoying it! Serious point Chris. The concept here is pointedly and vertically YOUR opinion of the people at Mardi gras, and to a degree your thoughts on the occasion itself. The preachy-screechies come through EVEN THOUGH I AM SURE that is not your primary aim. It is an issue. This piece suffers from lack of bright, intense imagery more than usual because of the true joyous, intrinsic nature of the subject. It is almost as though you are a pontificating kill-joy.
To make YOUR case you must give imaginative and seering evidence to back up your opinion...even if you rant it out. There is much here to go at...you could start by cutting out the utterly pointless and disrupting stanza breaks. The whole thing is haltingly terse on a verse by verse basis...one ill-defined vignette following another. Cohesion first, line breaks after.
Best,
tectak

Shoot, I broke up the quatrains to blend those scenes better (looks like it didn't work). Thanks for catching the careless punctuation errors!

Isn't the act of doing something over and over again immortalizing it?[i]No. hammering in a nail? Why can't they drink/swill themselves into a stupor/oblivion? "They" can...but you did not say that. You said that the "eve" was swilled er...oblivious Why can't he reject/spurn his flock (yes, I'll add a motive)? "He" can...but you did not say that. You said spurning AS his own.If you can turn a cold shoulder, why can't you turn an aloof one?Because the act of turning a "cold shoulder" is a metaphorical gesture alluding to a conditional acceptance of an understood piece of body language...it is referencing the shoulder action. "Aloofness" is an emotionally displayed condition referring to a state of mind...it cannot refer to a shoulder any more than you can say "he turned a pensive shoulder" or " he turned a proud foot " or " he turned a jealous knee". We are getting semantically challenged here What's wrong with disaproving of the evening's garish facade? It's the humans that make it so, with all the glitter and twinkle lights, etc. ...because you are attributing an emotional deception, a facade, to an inanimate object, an "eve"you've got me raising more questions about your queries than either of us had, ha ha...]

Hey, I came up with the term 'the big uneasy' years ago in an old version of this poem. That movie may have stole it from me, as the poem was posted online in 2008 (just saw the it came out in 2010). 'Reel' came from no film, it means 'stumble',Oddly enough, being half Scottish, I know what a reel is....and I know what a film is...and I know what a cliche is...and I know what a film reel is. Help me! geeesh...

As for the tone, it's definitely my opinion of crowd behavior, which I detest and protest herein, whether Mardi Gras on Bourbon Street, New Year's Eve in Times Square or a Football riot in Brazil. Therefore, I am God in the poem (it was The Gods before). Don't get me wrong, I'm all for drinking, nudity and women flashing their breasts, just not in public Fine by me....what is the problem? and I don't share in the crowd mentality or mob behavior. I think that responding to critique for clarity, motivation and explanation through my edits it has become more editorial and preaching. Nonetheless, I can live with it. The poem doesn't have to define the poet.

Alright, back to the four-liners!/Chris

PS: Did I mention that I am starting to hate this poem? [/i]

------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[rowens]

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

It does seem kind of stiff, the whole thing to the end. Though the look of the thin stanzas, short lines and the look of the words used, along with their meanings, can draw you in. The zombies seem somewhat alive, a little more than undead, compared to the report. It does seem a little much like a half-heartedly preachy report, like you sort of said somewhere. I can see their blank and confused eyes though. It would do well to knock the fashion frenzied mainstream hipsters down on their glib nostrils. Some 'raggedy, faggoty' animal-eyed, obviously-expressioned faces. They don't believe anything.



will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

But the poem remains as obvious, and only a quarter not as blank-eyed. But it's fun to play with. Like a god turns a hoof of a shoulder on this gay parade.



spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

Why does it need to be said "that forages in twilight" in that line, at this point in the poem?


shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

There's more life in these festivals of ignorance than one might expect.


They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

They seem to be doing fine.



Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

The holy idiots seem to come out better here than the narrator. You describe the best of the activities, and add or subtract nothing from them. Decadence and debauchery; America is a pagan country, always has been, always will be. And the heathens are morons, and they would have it no other way; so they celebrate. Through their ignorance: their mockery of Christian ideas, and mockery of themselves, is more profound than this poem can admit. Immortality is the real mocked scapegoat. They don't need it. They're too ignorant to be indifferent or not to be indifferent. And their indifference is their strength. Their blood religion. They're bound to failure. It's not even tragic. And doesn't need to be scorned. They'd only welcome it, or be too stupid to know. They defeat themselves, in similar ways as this poem is self-defeating. Call it success.

[ChristopherSea]

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

It does seem kind of stiff, the whole thing to the end. Though the look of the thin stanzas, short lines and the look of the words used, along with their meanings, can draw you in. The zombies seem somewhat alive, a little more than undead, compared to the report. It does seem a little much like a half-heartedly preachy report, like you sort of said somewhere. I can see their blank and confused eyes though. It would do well to knock the fashion frenzied mainstream hipsters down on their glib nostrils. Some 'raggedy, faggoty' animal-eyed, obviously-expressioned faces. They don't believe anything.



will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

But the poem remains as obvious, and only a quarter not as blank-eyed. But it's fun to play with. Like a god turns a hoof of a shoulder on this gay parade.



spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

Why does it need to be said "that forages in twilight" in that line, at this point in the poem?


shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

There's more life in these festivals of ignorance than one might expect.


They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

They seem to be doing fine.



Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

The holy idiots seem to come out better here than the narrator. You describe the best of the activities, and add or subtract nothing from them. Decadence and debauchery; America is a pagan country, always has been, always will be. And the heathens are morons, and they would have it no other way; so they celebrate. Through their ignorance: their mockery of Christian ideas, and mockery of themselves, is more profound than this poem can admit. Immortality is the real mocked scapegoat. They don't need it. They're too ignorant to be indifferent or not to be indifferent. And their indifference is their strength. Their blood religion. They're bound to failure. It's not even tragic. And doesn't need to be scorned. They'd only welcome it, or be too stupid to know. They defeat themselves, in similar ways as this poem is self-defeating. Call it success.

Rowens, much obliged for your time and critique of this, as well as your viewpoints on the theme. I will take them for their worth in my next edit. I fear much of the stiffness and moralizing tone is coming from severe editing to clarify and provide motivation and answer questions in response to reviewers. My only editorial was probably my distaste of mob mentality and behavior. As I told tectak: 'I'm all for drinking, nudity and women flashing their breasts, just not in public and I don't share in the crowd mentality or mob behavior or the need to be part of them.'

[rowens]

Then I think it could do with more fiery looseness and less clarity. Sink just enough into the mob mentality to fight fire with fire, as the mob would say.

---

Sink a little deeper than the mob mentality, really. There's not much of a mentality with them.

[ChristopherSea]

Then I think it could do with more fiery looseness and less clarity. Sink just enough into the mob mentality to fight fire with fire, as the mob would say.

---

Sink a little deeper than the mob mentality, really. There's not much of a mentality with them.

Ha, ha... I'll try to get crazy with it!

[tectak]

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,Much cleaner.

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep, How? How do the backs of gods disavow?
as they vandalize twilight. Too many these,theys ,theirs, buts

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine routepilgrimage as such a dedicated noun doesn't read well as a verb.

to lurch The Big-Uneasy As you claim prior on "big-uneasy", Chris, what do you want it to mean. I ask because I do not know
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch. debauch is the verb. Debauchery is the noun...no exceptions

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.I like this stanza but I am getting overwhelmed by the theys and theirs. You must cut down on fillers. It is not easy because of the narrators location in all of this...it leans towards reportage. Try:
Dancing the evening lifeless
with shaking canes and rattles;
snaking along warm asphalt
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in. AAAARRRGGGHHHH! Where faith can not subsist! ....but do you mean subsist or exist?

Yes. It is better. I for one am pleased you are sticking with it. You still have issues with word use but one thing at a time.
Best,
tectak


Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[ChristopherSea]

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,Much cleaner.

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep, How? How do the backs of gods disavow?
as they vandalize twilight. Too many these,theys ,theirs, buts

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine routepilgrimage as such a dedicated noun doesn't read well as a verb.

to lurch The Big-Uneasy As you claim prior on "big-uneasy", Chris, what do you want it to mean. I ask because I do not know
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch. debauch is the verb. Debauchery is the noun...no exceptions

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.I like this stanza but I am getting overwhelmed by the theys and theirs. You must cut down on fillers. It is not easy because of the narrators location in all of this...it leans towards reportage. Try:
Dancing the evening lifeless
with shaking canes and rattles;
snaking along warm asphalt
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in. AAAARRRGGGHHHH! Where faith can not subsist! ....but do you mean subsist or exist?

Yes. It is better. I for one am pleased you are sticking with it. You still have issues with word use but one thing at a time.
Best,
tectak

Thanks for sticking with me master!

'nihilistic debauch' was coined by Kurt Vennegut in his novel 'Cat's Cradle': "When I returned to my apartment … I found [it] wrecked by a nihilistic debauch. Krebbs was gone; but, before leaving, he had run up three-hundred-dollars’ worth of long-distance calls, set my couch on fire in five places, killed my cat and my avocado tree, and torn the door off my medicine cabinet..." If it's good enough for him, it should be swell with you (but for you, I may use orgy)! I got you on 'pilgrimage' too: pilgrimage intransitive verb pilgrimaged pilgrimag·ing Definition of PILGRIMAGE: to go on a pilgrimage mir web.

You know it's the Gods fronts doing the disavowing (I'll look at the wording). I'll work on the butts for ya too. (_i_)

New Orelean's, where my bother lived for a time, is called 'The Big Easy' because of the slower paced living and low pressure life style. I am using 'The Big Uneasy' to convey how that image is overturned by the bizzarre shenanigans on Mardi Gras. Watch the reality show 'Cops'. They have at least a half of a dozen episodes busting fights in this streets on Fat Tuesday. It's a good sarcastic pun and not cliche.

Love that edit of the penultimate stanza tom! But take it easy, I know that last line is off. (Didn't you see the 'in progress sign' above? Stop speeding in a work zone!) On point, I wanted to end with 'in' or some near rhyme with beacon to have a cleaner sound close. Instead of not existing at all, I was thinking maybe it could not survive there. Oh, maybe thrive in!

I shall return with some edits, thanks chief!
Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.

[ChristopherSea]

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4: in progress

The zombies have awoken;
the harlequins don their caps.
They believe their foolish rites
will immortalize this night,Much cleaner.

but the Gods will turn their backs
on this eve’s garish façade;
disavowing these dark sheep, How? How do the backs of gods disavow?
as they vandalize twilight. Too many these,theys ,theirs, buts

After feasting like gluttons
in anticipation of Lent,
they pilgrimage to nowhere
on a muddled anguine routepilgrimage as such a dedicated noun doesn't read well as a verb.

to lurch The Big-Uneasy As you claim prior on "big-uneasy", Chris, what do you want it to mean. I ask because I do not know
in ill-defined conga lines,
with no lucid purpose to
their nihilistic debauch. debauch is the verb. Debauchery is the noun...no exceptions

They’ll dance the evening lifeless,
shaking their canes and rattles,
as they snake the warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.I like this stanza but I am getting overwhelmed by the theys and theirs. You must cut down on fillers. It is not easy because of the narrators location in all of this...it leans towards reportage. Try:
Dancing the evening lifeless
with shaking canes and rattles;
snaking along warm asphalt
freeing spirits from bottles.

Purblind in amber beer light,
they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples,
where faith can not subsist in. AAAARRRGGGHHHH! Where faith can not subsist! ....but do you mean subsist or exist?

Yes. It is better. I for one am pleased you are sticking with it. You still have issues with word use but one thing at a time.
Best,
tectak

Thanks for sticking with me master!

'nihilistic debauch' was coined by Kurt Vennegut in his novel 'Cat's Cradle': "When I returned to my apartment … I found [it] wrecked by a nihilistic debauch. Krebbs was gone; but, before leaving, he had run up three-hundred-dollars’ worth of long-distance calls, set my couch on fire in five places, killed my cat and my avocado tree, and torn the door off my medicine cabinet..." If it's good enough for him, it should be swell with you (but for you, I may use orgy)! I got you on 'pilgrimage' too: pilgrimage intransitive verb pilgrimaged pilgrimag·ing Definition of PILGRIMAGE: to go on a pilgrimage mir web.

You know it's the Gods fronts doing the disavowing (I'll look at the wording). I'll work on the butts for ya too. (_i_)

New Orelean's, where my bother lived for a time, is called 'The Big Easy' because of the slower paced living and low pressure life style. I am using 'The Big Uneasy' to convey how that image is overturned by the bizzarre shenanigans on Mardi Gras. Watch the reality show 'Cops'. They have at least a half of a dozen episodes busting fights in this streets on Fat Tuesday. It's a good sarcastic pun and not cliche.

Love that edit of the penultimate stanza tom! But take it easy, I know that last line is off. (Didn't you see the 'in progress sign' above? Stop speeding in a work zone!) On point, I wanted to end with 'in' or some near rhyme with beacon to have a cleaner sound close. Instead of not existing at all, I was thinking maybe it could not survive there. Oh, maybe thrive in!

I shall return with some edits, thanks chief!

Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4.2 is up and it ain't half bad!


Todd/Tectak/Rowens edit version 4Thank you fellow poets!

---------------------------------
Todd/Tectak edit version 3

Queer zombies have awoken
and mad harlequins alike;
they believe their inane rites

will immortalize this night.
God turns an aloof shoulder
on this eve’s garish façade;

spurning this flock as his own,
that forages in twilight.
They’ll dance the evening lifeless,

shaking their canes and rattles,
and snake along warm asphalt,
freeing spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
in ill-defined conga lines,
after feasting like gluttons,

in anticipation of Lent.
Their pilgrimage goes nowhere
at a languid anguine pace.

Their only clear objective:
swill this eve oblivious.
Purblind in amber beer light,

they seek some neon beacon,
stumbling into false temples
that no one could have faith in.

Todd/Tectak edit version 3 Thanks much,
I am starting to like this poem!


------------------------------------
todd edit version 2

The Gods have turned their backs
on this evening’s façade,
as the sun cautiously
closes an aloof eye.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
conducting futile rites
to immortalize this night.

They dance the eve lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles,
while snaking warm asphalt,
drinking spirits from bottles.

They reel The Big-Uneasy
within ill-defined ranks;
their bellies stuffed with pork fat
to compensate for Lent.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just an idle anguine route
to swill this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons;
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.


todd edit version 2 Thank you!
-------------------------

original

Sol warily closes
his reticent eye and
turns an averse shoulder
on this evening’s facade.

Queer zombies awaken
and harlequins alike,
all seeking pretexts to
immortalize the night.

They snake asphalt streets;
drink spirits from bottles,
then dance the night lifeless,
shaking canes and rattles.

In ill-defined ranks, they
reel The Big-Uneasy
on circuitous paths
befitting the anguine.

There’s no Yellow Brick Road,
or an Appian Way;
just idle routes to swill
this eve oblivious.

Watch dim wits in beer light,
seeking neon beacons,
who sing in false temples
that no one could have faith in.