A Baptist Observes Mardi Gras

[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.