I. Cadenza
Tenderloin, where you come alive only for the stars
to stick you with sharp things... violence films
my lips as I search for words to rip
the creativity out of you. You lie in repose
when I return to our room, bruises opening
like wine on your cheeks. It would be art, surely,
if I stepped back, but for what, would you flourish?
II. Uproar
The scalpel of this city could cut me open
just to keep the streetlights burning.
But survival is a cold thing; every breath
is chilled by the need to take another one.
And youth is a flexible thing. Lose it
as it suits you
and gain it when you are looking
for a reason to explain your unhappiness.
III. Sunrise
Already angry that we've outgrown each other,
I call only to hear you ask why.
Loving you is so much harder than just knowing that I do.
IV. Oceans
This-
this
lack of sense-
is what gambling does to you.
It's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we lose,
again
and again,
all we will do is
resign ourselves
to one more.
I. Golden City
Tenderloin, where you come alive only for the stars
to stick you with sharp things, is not a place for words:
the violence films my lips as I roam, searching
for words to rip the creativity out of you. You lie
in repose when I return to our room, bruises opening
like wine on your cheeks. It would be art, surely,
if I stepped back, but for what, would you flourish?
II. Uproar
What my youth does to me, I know.
My words break like fever, moving
through the city with an anger that
snaps. You cannot see me smiling,
but you know the emotion. I feel like
I could kill. I do to my youth as
it does to me: I light up. Tenderloin,
where you are either bored or sober,
either dying or dead, is not a place
for- infatuation? No, it is love.
III. Tazza: The High Rollers
This
is what gambling does to you.
This lack of sense,
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we lose
again
and again (you shatter me,
you
child, you infidel),
all we will do
is bet on
another.
IV. Rise
Already angry that we've outgrown each other, I call only to hear you ask why.
You haven't called. I was busy. You always are. I know. Are you in the city? I never am. Do you love me? Yes, I love you. Where are you? A party. Fucking on me? If I wasn't fucked up. I was worried. I was tired. You always are. Do you blame me? No, I love you, I love you, I love you, I
cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films
my lips as I search for the words to rip
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
bruises open like wine on your cheeks.
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this,
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong.
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more.
hi nozaki. it could be just me but the first half line makes me want to stop reading as i automatically asume it's going to be a woe is me cutting poem. after that it's not a cutting poem i see. the first line is very important is keeping the reader connected to the poem. for me the poem starts weakly. it reads well from "the violence films" for me that's the real start of the poem i think you trim a little fat off, [unnecessary words] the last two lines of the 1st stanza could do with a good image/simile in order to bulk it out.
(10-18-2018, 09:18 AM)nozaki Wrote: cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films
my lips as I search for the words to rip no need for [the]
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
bruises open like wine on your cheeks.
so loving you is so much harder than knowing is [so] needed
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this,
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong. done wrong or gone wrong?
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more.
(10-18-2018, 09:18 AM)nozaki Wrote: cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films -- like billy, I had an immediate "not another emo poem" reaction to this first line -- damn emos and their cliches, ruining it for cutting anything anywhere -- anyway, I think you could get away with starting on "the violence films", which I really like for its ambiguity, but it seems the shape of this is important to you, so...
my lips as I search for the words to rip - lovely sonics here
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
bruises open like wine on your cheeks.
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care -- "only call" actually sounds better, rhythm-wise and alliteration-wise, to my ear (and syntax-wise, to my brain!)
enough to ask why. this,
this -- great stanza break
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong. -- I feel that leaving out "an example" would strengthen this line
it's a hazard, the hearts- - maybe a colon after hazard instead?
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more.
I did enjoy this piece, Nozaki. It's very visceral and quite cinematic, with all the senses being well represented.
Hi Nozaki
I really enjoyed your poem and the concept of when a relationship breaks down it feels like a gamble to let it go. Some thoughts below. Best Keith
(10-18-2018, 09:18 AM)nozaki Wrote: cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films As with others comments you could start with 'the violence films my lips' and you would have my attention
my lips as I search for the words to rip nice sonic that spits anger
the creativity out of you. it would be art only would only be art, is smoother
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish? comma after what maybe
bruises open like wine on your cheeks. nice image
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown nice progression to reason
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this, not sure you need 'this' here as well as below
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong. leanne said cut example i would agree
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more. solid ending belief in the N conviction
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films
my lips as I search for the words to rip
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
I think you lose this train of reasoning too early.
bruises open like wine on your cheeks.
You could do something here with wine on or in cheeks; which is it? Flushing or wine like blood and bruises cut open? And why?
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this,
Is this part on purpose, rambling like gambling? I mean, the lines of desperation and wording?
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong.
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more.
(10-18-2018, 09:18 AM)nozaki Wrote: cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films I'd try to leave out the word 'poetry'
my lips as I search for the words to rip
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
bruises open like wine on your cheeks. I really like this line, alcohol makes my cheeks red, like being slapped
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this, I think I'd capitalize this
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong. This line seems too long
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more. If the form is based on looks, you're locking yourself into a computer format, I like the trailing off to the end, maybe this lack of sense is gambling gone wrong
cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films this poem begins with self-awareness which develops through an un-folding process my lips as I search for the words to rip here, with "violence films" you observe your own internal mood and also allude to external imagery the creativity out of you. it would be art only if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish? your honesty regarding your own possession is remarkable bruises open like wine on your cheeks. a good metaphor. bruises like wine. so loving you is so much harder than knowing that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown confessional verse which anticipates confession. each other, I call only to hear you care enough to ask why. this,
this lack of sense, is an example of gambling done wrong. i like the cascading space of the poem. it forms, perhaps, like an inverted stack of casino chips. it's a hazard, the hearts- the arrived at conclusion is like a pure reduction, the lives, the chips- when we run out, all we can do is bet on more.
was thinking of submitting this for one of the prompts of a college application. would anyone be so kind as to provide some thoughts? thanks in advance, anything would be appreciated.
hi nozaki, this seems to be more of a new poem than an edit. which is of course okay. for me the first poem felt better more consie and more clear.
in the first line of city of angels i feel confused as to who what tenderloin is which sort of makes it hard to lift myself further into the read. it's use in the 2nd stanza makes me think the partner is a a piece of meat [metaphorically speaking] with the nic tenderloin.
in the third i'm again unstuck with the opening word [tazza] and the last stanza takes away fro the good parts you have in the preceding stanza's.
(10-18-2018, 09:18 AM)nozaki Wrote: I. City of Angels
Tenderloin, where you come alive only for the stars
to stick you with sharp things, is not a place for words:
the violence films my lips as I roam, searching great image and good enjambment.
for words to rip the creativity out of you. You lie
in repose when I return to our room, bruises opening
like wine on your cheeks. It would be art, surely,
if I stepped back, but for what, would you flourish?
II. Uproar
What my youth does to me, I know.
My words break like fever, moving not sure the simile works as a fever that's breaking is a fever that's receding. a suggestion would be to change break for another word.
through the city with an anger that
snaps. You cannot see me smiling,
but you know the emotion. I feel like
I could kill. I do to my youth as
it does to me: I light up. Tenderloin,
where you are either bored or sober,
either dying or dead, is not a place
for- infatuation? No, it is love.
III. Tazza: The High Rollers
This
is what gambling does to you.
This lack of sense,
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we lose
again
and again (you shatter me,
you
child, you infidel), why are these words being used. for me they need to be fleshed out or changed to something that fits within the story.
all we will do
is bet on
another.
IV. Rise
Already angry that we've outgrown each other, I call only to hear you ask why.
You haven't called. I was busy. You always are. I know. Are you in L.A.? I never am. Do you love me? Yes, I love you. Where are you? A party. Fucking on me? If I wasn't fucked up. I was worried. I was tired. You always are. Do you blame me? No, I love you, I love you, I love you, I
cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films
my lips as I search for the words to rip
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
bruises open like wine on your cheeks.
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this,
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong.
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more.
(11-27-2018, 10:44 AM)billy Wrote: hi nozaki, this seems to be more of a new poem than an edit. which is of course okay. for me the first poem felt better more consie and more clear.
in the first line of city of angels i feel confused as to who what tenderloin is which sort of makes it hard to lift myself further into the read. it's use in the 2nd stanza makes me think the partner is a a piece of meat [metaphorically speaking] with the nic tenderloin.
in the third i'm again unstuck with the opening word [tazza] and the last stanza takes away fro the good parts you have in the preceding stanza's.
(10-18-2018, 09:18 AM)nozaki Wrote: I. City of Angels
Tenderloin, where you come alive only for the stars
to stick you with sharp things, is not a place for words:
the violence films my lips as I roam, searching great image and good enjambment.
for words to rip the creativity out of you. You lie
in repose when I return to our room, bruises opening
like wine on your cheeks. It would be art, surely,
if I stepped back, but for what, would you flourish?
II. Uproar
What my youth does to me, I know.
My words break like fever, moving not sure the simile works as a fever that's breaking is a fever that's receding. a suggestion would be to change break for another word.
through the city with an anger that
snaps. You cannot see me smiling,
but you know the emotion. I feel like
I could kill. I do to my youth as
it does to me: I light up. Tenderloin,
where you are either bored or sober,
either dying or dead, is not a place
for- infatuation? No, it is love.
III. Tazza: The High Rollers
This
is what gambling does to you.
This lack of sense,
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we lose
again
and again (you shatter me,
you
child, you infidel), why are these words being used. for me they need to be fleshed out or changed to something that fits within the story.
all we will do
is bet on
another.
IV. Rise
Already angry that we've outgrown each other, I call only to hear you ask why.
You haven't called. I was busy. You always are. I know. Are you in L.A.? I never am. Do you love me? Yes, I love you. Where are you? A party. Fucking on me? If I wasn't fucked up. I was worried. I was tired. You always are. Do you blame me? No, I love you, I love you, I love you, I
cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films
my lips as I search for the words to rip
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish?
bruises open like wine on your cheeks.
so loving you is so much harder than knowing
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this,
this
lack of sense,
is an example of gambling done wrong.
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips-
when we run out,
all we can do
is bet on
more.
thanks for the feedback, i really wasn't sure how the drastic edit turned out. to clarify, golden city is a nickname for san francisco, and tenderloin is an (in)famous district in the city. it's thought of as the "soft underbelly" in a way since it's got a criminal/seedy reputation. tazza is a movie about gambling, but in retrospect not the best opener for sure.
