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1.
I suppose I despise all fathers.
No, that isn't fair. Just because
your face looms forth from the
darkness behind my eyelid, like
a terrible light expelling comfort,
doesn't mean I should judge
all men thusly.
2.
sprawling with a teenage boy
across the fields of pink ether,
inhaling the bilious gas
of sombre deities, heaven-bound Nazis,
as I mount his adolescent frame,
his sixteen-year old buttocks,
and expel the sickness handed down
since the moment I escaped
from the church of the blood,
my mother's love blessed, sacred cunt.
3.
Is it your masculinity
which terrifies me?
I'm tied like a pork rind
to the collar of the boy,
my rosy-cheeked old self,
who hides beneath the bed
as the bovine of his past
prowls the corridors.
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@billy - Thanks for the feedback and kind words  Are "thusly" and "thus" archaic terms? I use them a lot in my day to day speech, and in casual correspondence. No doubt why my brother calls me Stephen Fry haha.
In the second fragment, "the church of the blood" was a metaphor for my mother's vagina. I wasn't really alluding to her religious beliefs, though she considers herself a Christian, and always wears a crucifix, which I've written about in other poems. By "sickness" I meant mental illness.
Thanks again for the kind words
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i think so.
as for
Quote:"the church of the blood" was a metaphor for my mother's vagina.
i think the word cunt, gave that fact away jack 
a quick resume of my feedback.
1st one;
good except for the word thusly which for me is archaic (do a dictionary search)
2nd one;
the more robust of the three. still makes think of a woman lost in the church and using it as a crotch, sorry crutch.
the sickness i presumed to be vd or depression. i discounted vd for some reason
3rd one;
the deepest of the three. a poem of fear and resentment about self. the pbovine the past the corridors the mind (i think)
all in all three good snapshots, come vignettes; the fact of this can be found in the title.
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These are gorgeous. The third one especially is so perfect, I can't get it out of my head.
If I had to pick a minor nitpick, it would be the line "heaven-bound nazis". I love it on its own, and god knows I agree, but that one phrase is so compactly rife with political and social underpinnings that for a moment it distracted me from the flow of the rest of the scene, especially compared directly to the following line... but perhaps that was the point I'm missing?
This is just gold. Genius.
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?
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(10-13-2010, 11:39 AM)addy Wrote: These are gorgeous. The third one especially is so perfect, I can't get it out of my head.
If I had to pick a minor nitpick, it would be the line "heaven-bound nazis". I love it on its own, and god knows I agree, but that one phrase is so compactly rife with political and social underpinnings that for a moment it distracted me from the flow of the rest of the scene, especially compared directly to the following line... but perhaps that was the point I'm missing? 
This is just gold. Genius.
Nah, it wasn't supposed to be political; thanks for calling my attention to that, Addy  And thanks also for your lovely words!
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What a powerful write! Any suggestions I give you won't amount to much more than refining sort of nits so weigh them that way. Here goes:
(10-09-2010, 12:29 AM)Heslopian Wrote: 1.
I suppose I despise all fathers.--fantastic opening line.
No, that isn't fair. Just because
your face looms forth from the
darkness behind my eyelid, like
a terrible light expelling comfort,--love darkness...comfort. Great lines.
doesn't mean I should judge
all men thusly.
2.
sprawling with a teenage boy
across the fields of pink ether,
inhaling the bilious gas
bof sombre deities, heaven-bound Nazis,--love the fields to dieties...such original effective phrasing
as I mount his adolescent frame,
his sixteen-year old buttocks,
and expel the sickness handed down
since the moment I escaped--these two lines "and expel...escaped" are to me the absolute strongest in the poem. They seem to be the emotional core to me. It's a very painful emotional mix going on for the speaker
from the church of the blood,
my mother's love blessed, sacred cunt.
3.
Is it your masculinity
which terrifies me?
I'm tied like a pork rind--excellent
to the collar of the boy,
my rosy-cheeked old self,
who hides beneath the bed
as the bovine of his past
prowls the corridors.--prowls seems an odd word choice to pair vith bovine.
Stellar work! It had some painful overtones to it but I very much enjoyed the work.
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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(10-18-2010, 05:41 AM)Todd Wrote: What a powerful write! Any suggestions I give you won't amount to much more than refining sort of nits so weigh them that way. Here goes:
(10-09-2010, 12:29 AM)Heslopian Wrote: 1.
I suppose I despise all fathers.--fantastic opening line.
No, that isn't fair. Just because
your face looms forth from the
darkness behind my eyelid, like
a terrible light expelling comfort,--love darkness...comfort. Great lines.
doesn't mean I should judge
all men thusly.
2.
sprawling with a teenage boy
across the fields of pink ether,
inhaling the bilious gas
bof sombre deities, heaven-bound Nazis,--love the fields to dieties...such original effective phrasing
as I mount his adolescent frame,
his sixteen-year old buttocks,
and expel the sickness handed down
since the moment I escaped--these two lines "and expel...escaped" are to me the absolute strongest in the poem. They seem to be the emotional core to me. It's a very painful emotional mix going on for the speaker
from the church of the blood,
my mother's love blessed, sacred cunt.
3.
Is it your masculinity
which terrifies me?
I'm tied like a pork rind--excellent
to the collar of the boy,
my rosy-cheeked old self,
who hides beneath the bed
as the bovine of his past
prowls the corridors.--prowls seems an odd word choice to pair vith bovine.
Stellar work! It had some painful overtones to it but I very much enjoyed the work.
Best,
Todd
Thanks for the kind words and feedback, Todd  I agree that "bovine" are unlikely to "prowl," hence the oddness of that line!
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I love oddness when it's deliberate...now fully grasping the choice  well that may take me a bit... lol
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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