Dope City Jailbreak

[tectak]

Hi fluo,
There is a wealth of imagery in this and I am loathe to, and in fact cautious of, suggesting changes. I will explain the caution. You write first person because angsty, ranty poems have an unequivocal veracity about them if the reader "believes" that the narrator IS the portrayed character. This is, of course, in Crit World...a no no. Nonetheless,it would appear that for the thing to work it is the belief in the character which matters...and I do and I don't. That is your fault. The linearity of the piece is broken almost line by line and that says two things. Firstly, the writer is thinking about what to say in a serial way. As ideas pop up they are incorporated into the mix like currants in a sticky dough. You get away with this ONLY because of the "ranty" nature of the piece...it is out of control; so I do and I don't like it. Secondly, the imagery is erudite, by that I mean successfully "wordy", but it does not fit with the perceived mental "angst" of the character...almost as though we were trying to follow the thought process of a stereo-typical schizophrenic with both personnas slugging it out for verbal dominance...so I do and I don't like it.
OK, contextual analysis over I revert to type...see in-line.  


I wanna be a parasite trolling nightclubbing streets The twisty"...trolling nightclubbing" rankles even when I read it in my head. I understand the description but the terminology is wonky..."nightclubbing streets" is an image open to comedic misconstruance. A bit like "golfing balls". "trolling the nightclub streets" is only just saving the line, but I admit it is opinion.  
under fluorescent umbrellas and To enjamb on "and" is precipitously bizarre. You have no real need to cause or imply or permit a pause here. The next line begins with a truly unexpected  triple. One is bound to ask what a love-inflicted atmosphere could be. The irony is not lost IF you (the character) want love to be seen as an infliction, but you give little reasoned argument as to why this should be either before or after the comment. This is the first break in the linearity of the piece. I find mysef looking for a hidden agenda which some may find enticing but I am not sure that such a secret is here, to be uncovered. I have read the piece several times so this is not a "serial" comment.
love-inflicted atmospheres. I wanna disappear I do, however, applaud the excellent connection of the two "I wanna be" lines. The metaphorical truth of the parasite wishing (and often by definition) to be hidden, or "disappear" is well contrived...so much so that if you deviate again from the core issue it will stand out like a candle on a slag-heap; and i just know you will.
in a snowflake flurry of red lights and get hung up Imagery pure and simple...yes, simple. I have no idea what YOU mean but I am certain of what I see when I read your words. That is enough for me.Envy
in eloquently articulate murders, shouting blurry profanities Now you have lost me. BANG. The whole thing has exploded in my face. Is it just the "eloquently articulate".
articulate
adjective
1) having or showing the ability to speak fluently and coherently.
2) having joints or jointed segments.

verb
1) pronounce (something) clearly and distinctly.
2) form a joint.

...maybe "articulated"? Though the grammar seems clearer the intent does not. Finishing the line with such a powerfully expressed conundrum does not help. I go back to where I began. The erudition is poetically fine, but the character becomes the author again. The serial currant pops in to the bun.


to the skies in searing daylight. from this point onwards I have to like another poem. Nothing wrong with that BUT is that the intent. If it is, then result. If it isn't then I believe you need to work some more on keeping the thing in one box. You have scattered pieces of scrabble all over the floor and made some fine words from them....but here comes your mother.....tidy this room up!

Head’s trapped in a las vegas ferris wheel, lit up by argon set Las Vegas...all or nothing is the call.Oh dear. No apostrophe on heads.
against a black hole. Mouth’s flapping Oh dear. No apostrophe on mouths
wormy, mechanical blood: a dirty lighthouse
guiding parasites and prostitutes to their repeat of parasite. Not a hanging offence
respective brothels.

Can’t you see that I just wanna go? Disappear into a crowd
of rippling teenagers at a sweaty concert;
into a pollution-crowded city gasping to be alive?— one dash is enough
—desperately alive.

I’m here and now, and I'm dead.
Can’t you see that?
—god! Far too petulant for the character, but in character for the writer. I rest my case.

Forty three windows blinking from forty three floors
owlishly towards a horde of immaculately groomed
owlets in tuxedoes riding neon pink clouds that elevate
to the ninth circle of hell, sharing company with the
satan Himself.

Articulation is for the blue-blood dead.


Seems to be a bit 60's LSD (though it isn't) towards the end...not a time for sensible articulation. Articulation? I have heard that before somewhere. Overall, I am envious of anyone's ability to paint from a pot of glutinously purposeful prose without even the slightest ripple in the surface that could indicate hidden meaning lurks below. My concern is that though I can easily write the words, I find it much easier to do so when not constrained by the urge to be understood by myself, or perish the thought, others. If you tell me that all of this means all of that, I will believe you...but I wish the poem was clearer.
Best,
tectak
Keep taking the capitals...and finish the course.

[[this has already been edited from the sprawling, messy original. hopefully it's more poetry-like. personally, i like this, but please rip it apart because i'm obviously biased. also, i used capitals! who's proud of me? i still prefer no capitals, though. ]]