Blue Bird Revised Edit 1

[tectak]

What is the bluebird as a sign? I don't know...but I don't understand the question,either.
The beaky flag imparts You cannot impart a man...especially a hidden one or what's the point anyway. Here's a man. Oh, you can't see him? That's because the beaky bluebird flag imparted him hidden. Huh?
a hidden man in poetry’s lore,
and calls about men's, "hearts." Call? You mean visits or by telephone. How about:
" and sings about men's hearts", whatever that means.


In ink it strikes a double stress,
And signs an animal.
It’s taken as a captured man
No longer seminal. Now brownlie, you know me and I know you and you know gobbledygook when you see it. Not only are you back to capitalising every line but the words are just dropped on the page with no attempt to group them with... what's it called? Ah, yes. Punctuation. It's is what?

A bluebird sang inside of me.
It warbled when a worm
Was swallowed by my bloating corpse,
and ached with every burn Burn? What's burning? Here I am, happily bloating along when somebody shoves a red-hot worm down my gangrenous gullet. And who let that bird in here? Oh, I know, I know...it is easy to pull this sort of well intentioned stuff apart and I do not do it cruelly. Thing is, you are making it too easy. There is nothing structurally connected and so the whole edifice shakes when I laugh...and that is not good.

I Sped toward bone necrosis. Bloody hell, brownlie...this is after an edit? Capital on Sped? Why? Metaphorically masticated. You are a dead corpse, you are speeding, you are developing a living necrosis(?). I am lost. Help.
In bottle necked pastimes,
I lurched my birdlike collar high
And threw away my prime. Quite right, too. I threw mine away way back just after I realised that a lurch of my collar meant I wasn't going to end up a dove. Look, all is opinion but this is just too obscure. Wonder why no one is commenting?

My smokeless song went riding pale Stop now. I have. If it wasn't so brillig in the slivey toves I would have quaffed a rind with you...but as it is, I'm going home to my glass encountered swollen rasberry for a quick round of cateract ridge. Goodnightall.
Unbridled on a swine.
I gamboled in a drunken dell,
And quaffed with rotten rinds.


What I could not load to “do it,”
I chased by rolling dice.
The rain was all that reigned, and I
Supposed I’d wetly strive.

I sought to whet my passion.
I Enflamed my liver,
And chased a circling Paradox,
dulling thought with liquor.

My curses reeked of father stuff,
And sought to murder signs,
Of trilling birds that fly to whirs
Of buzzing power lines.

And so I see my brother now
Who rolls across cement
Pretending he’s an invalid
To beg another cent.

Embracing with a distant word,
I coax a cracking voice.
From out a fragile door he begs,
and fades as vacant noise.

Away from him I see a duct,
A woman charged with life.
Unclipped and free the bluebird flies,
To feel itself deprived.

But in a lonely ache that seeks
To drink the world up
We can learn to read the singing
That’s cheeping from a cup.

Because a word is prone to morph,
We can rename bluebirds.
reattribute what’s said as sweet,
to something that’s more blurred.

Very good. Now just lie still for a moment while the nurse sticks these milk-bottle tops to your temples.
Don't listen to me. Read what all the other crits make of it.
Best,
tectak