A Trip In Your Library

[RiverNotch]

Original:

I am under a quilt of skin.
In darkness, it begins.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world we know.
Oh.
I feel like I'm going to vomit.
Is this what they call a "bad trip"?
The world is spinning round and round,
yet there's nothing here I haven't found
outside the waking songs of mother nature, my dear guide
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world we know.
Oh.

I am under a wooden roof.
My mind is all aloof.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world I've seen.
Oh.
I'm looking for a novel.
Is this how a rich man grovels?
This place seems like a library,
yet there's no light to read
the detailed prints and dialogues of our gods' designs.
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world I've seen.
Oh.

I am under a golden queen.
I wish I had not been.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world that's gone.
Oh.
I see the warmest fire-light.
Is this the end, the final sight?
This house is like a film I've loved,
yet nothing here is worthy of
appreciation in the cities of man's sanity.
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world that's gone.
Oh.

I am under a raging storm.
My love is taking form.

Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world of time.
Oh.
I find you.

Your hair is refuge from the cold.
Your eyes are vital jewel bugs.
Your skin is silk from Xanadu.
Your breasts are supple temple domes.
Your neck is heaven's heavy trunk.
Your arms are perfect birch-tree stems.
Your vulva is a holy dove.
Your legs are ever-solid stakes.

Your heart is graceful foolishness.

And all we do is talk to stop our lights from breaking out.
FLASHES
OF COLORS
ALL ALIKE,
ALL UNLIKE
THE WORLD OF TIME.
Oh.

I am under a waking day.
There is nothing more to say.

First edit:

My eyes are under their skins.
In darkness, it begins.

I see them!
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world I know!
Oh.

Reality's earnest embrace
Now chokes me breathless, out of place.
This world is spinning round and round.
I'm lost now, in these malformed sounds.
But then they form sweet harmonies of mother nature's plan.

Now I'm under a wooden roof.
This world seems all aloof.

I am looking for a novel
(I am looking for the devil):
A dream-born tome of heaven's cost,
a mirror to the Lethe-lost,
a detailed print and dialogue of the Lord God's designs.

I find it!
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world that's gone!
Oh.

Now I've seen the threads of fate.
I have felt all love and hate.

In front of me is fire-light
This is the end, the final sight:
A paradise, a house of love,
a place of nothing worthy of
appreciation in the cities of man's sanity.

But heaven is for the dead.
I'm here all too ahead.

I'm cast out!
Flashes
of colors
all alike,
all unlike
the world of death!
Oh.

I'm still looking for a novel.
(But no longer for the devil)
For though I've seen the afterlife,
burns still my heart with awful strife:
a passion base with freedom's price unmade into a thread.

Now I'm under a raging storm.
My love is taking form.

In front of me is fire-light.
Is this the end, the final sight?
I push and pull to your embrace;
I am choked breathless, out of place!
You're somewhere close, yet oh so far behind my memories.

But then I find you.

Your hair is refuge from the cold.
Your eyes are vital jewel bugs.
Your skin is silk from Xanadu.
Your breasts are supple temple domes.
Your neck is heaven's heavy trunk.
Your arms are perfect birch-tree stems.
Your vulva is a holy dove.
Your legs are ever-solid stakes.
Your heart is graceful foolishness.
Your words are solace from these rains.
And all we do is talk to stop our suns from breaking in.

But we lose!
Flashes
of colors
none alike,
all alike
the sky at dawn.
No!

I am under a waking day.
I have nothing more to say.

[Thoughtjotter]

I like your creative approach though it is a bit distracting from what seems to be a strong message/memory of an acid trip while lying on your back looking up through the trees seeking the natural meaning of life. Not that I resemble this poem or anything. There will be some discussions of rhythm and rhyme, meter and the use of caps. coming from others. Never give up your creativity but never give in to the wrong approach to learning how to use it.
Thanks for sharing,
R.T.

[Erthona]

The repetition is repetitious. The center justify adds nothing to the poem except to make it hard to read. Some of the rhymes seem forced,

"I'm looking for a novel.
Is this how a rich man grovels?"

This is an interesting word choice:

"Your vulva is a holy dove."

As Xanadu is Kublai Khan's residence I see no connection between it and silk, especially as silk was from China not Mongolia.

In terms of the form, although somewhat clever, it is hindered by ad hoc inclusions simply for the forms sake such as the repeated "Oh!" whether the poem calls for, or benefits from one at the particular place it appears.

Evidently the phrase:

Flashes of colors all alike, all unlike the world I've seen.

Is obviously personally meaningful to the speaker as it is repeated 8 times throughout the poem,

but for the reader there is no Rosetta stone to give it meaning and so it remains obscure and meaningless.

Best,


Dale

[RiverNotch]

I like your creative approach though it is a bit distracting from what seems to be a strong message/memory of an acid trip while lying on your back looking up through the trees seeking the natural meaning of life. Not that I resemble this poem or anything. *looks suspiciously at Thoughtjotter There will be some discussions of rhythm and rhyme, meter and the use of caps. coming from others. Never give up your creativity but never give in to the wrong approach to learning how to use it.
Thanks for sharing,
R.T.

The repetition is repetitious. The center justify adds nothing to the poem except to make it hard to read. Some of the rhymes seem forced,

I just like the look of center justify, I didn't really think that outline meant anything.

"I'm looking for a novel.
Is this how a rich man grovels?"

This is forced. I will change these lines.

This is an interesting word choice:

"Your vulva is a holy dove."

Get it? Coz' the thingy looks like a birdie sometimes...

As Xanadu is Kublai Khan's residence I see no connection between it and silk, especially as silk was from China not Mongolia.

Xanadu was known to be a splendorous city, full of opulence and really expensive things and such: in some cases, Xanadu is compared to a paradise (an example being its usage in the movie Citizen Kane). I don't think the comparison needs changing here.

In terms of the form, although somewhat clever, it is hindered by ad hoc inclusions simply for the forms sake such as the repeated "Oh!" whether the poem calls for, or benefits from one at the particular place it appears.

Evidently the phrase:

Flashes of colors all alike, all unlike the world I've seen.

Is obviously personally meaningful to the speaker as it is repeated 8 times throughout the poem,

but for the reader there is no Rosetta stone to give it meaning and so it remains obscure and meaningless.

Thanks. I guess I'll have to clarify what that means. Although, as a heads up, it sort of signifies a transition from one part to another, wherein the speaker is literally seeing "flashes of colors, all alike..."

Best,


Dale

Thank you for the critiques.

[bena]

I read it four times, and couldn't figure out the meanings/double entendres.....and you'll just have to trust me, I'm not that daft (only on occasion.)

This may seem a bit harsh, but every rhyme, to me, was predictable. Skin/begin Oh/Know. round/found novel/grovel ----I could go on but I don't ike to seem cruel.

And how a poem looks on a page is tantamount to how seriously it will be taken. Poems are works of art, and I would hate to see a Van Gough centred.

Now to leave you with some nice thoughts: there are several thoughts/lines that are brilliant in this. =)

[RiverNotch]

I read it four times, and couldn't figure out the meanings/double entendres.....and you'll just have to trust me, I'm not that daft (only on occasion.)

It is rather too thick, I suppose. I'll try (I've tried, since I crafted this reply after making the edit) to make some of the meanings clearer.

This may seem a bit harsh, but every rhyme, to me, was predictable. Skin/begin Oh/Know. round/found novel/grovel ----I could go on but I don't ike to seem cruel.

This comment kinda puzzles me though. I usually find rhymes to be predictable when I already understand the poem in [something], not when I don't. I wonder why it's somewhat different in your case.

And how a poem looks on a page is tantamount to how seriously it will be taken. Poems are works of art, and I would hate to see a Van Gough centred.

Good point.

Now to leave you with some nice thoughts: there are several thoughts/lines that are brilliant in this. =)

Again, thanks for the comment. I've edited the poem, made some rather big changes to the whole structure and such. Hopefully, it conveys its meanings and whatnot better.