Cutting Cards 1st edit

[Vistaldust]

"Cutting Cards". Edited

Catatonic is psycho safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur, a la shrink-
wrapped chemistry.
I cannot howl with
gravy-rich passion, when
my eyes could blind the sun.
Dull is the edge in winning
the high-minded marathon,
when my thoughts could level
an erudite prude before
my words slapped their ears.
A great read no longer
sets me ablaze. She-tails
no longer wag me into stiffness.
Now, it's rainy afternoons,
safely watching grass grow,
pajama-bottoms stuck
to my ass and dormant balls,
sipping heart-smart tea,
with Dr. Oz and crossword.

Interveners, saviors,
tell me they miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them bellow and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode.
An easy click of the personality
dial they say - as if,
as if, as if.

Periodic tables don't surrender
themselves to willpower
once the elements have
been unleashed.

Tried reworking the
chemistry, auto-correct,
add a pill here,
lose a pill there,
playing roulette at the lonely
casino on the edge of the Urals,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Maybe the band will
play a gentler rhythm
this time if I chuck these
all down the shitter.

Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
see the shark that
almost ate me. I
I remind myself, I'm not
the diver, anymore.





"Cutting Cards". Original

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I see
the shark that almost ate me.
I remind my self I'm not
the diver, anymore.

[Keith]

Hi Vd, I can relate to a lot of this, that feeling not being ready for the shade of the old oak tree and you convey the muted anger very well. The first stanza is solid with strong images and lines fav: tails no longer wag me stiff. The second stanza confused me, who are they ? sorry but I couldn't get this. S3 brings back the lonely images and the explanation for the catatonic state but I'm left unclear if this is a latte refill a refill of the shark. I enjoyed the images in S1 and S3 and wish I could have got more from S2 hope this helps. TOMH

[Vistaldust]

Hi Vd, I can relate to a lot of this, that feeling not being ready for the shade of the old oak tree and you convey the muted anger very well. The first stanza is solid with strong images and lines fav: tails no longer wag me stiff. The second stanza confused me, who are they ? sorry but I couldn't get this. S3 brings back the lonely images and the explanation for the catatonic state but I'm left unclear if this is a latte refill a refill of the shark. I enjoyed the images in S1 and S3 and wish I could have got more from S2 hope this helps. TOMH

Thanks, Time! Helps a lot. Will work with it. Glad you could relate.

[billy]

i think it hinges on how you see the title. is it a metaphor or an artform.
the gambling metaphors are too many for it not be about gambling. i struggled for a fair bit of the first 2 stanza but that could be my fault.

"Cutting Cards"

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the would someone sit [b]at the secretary of state?[/b]
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford. i think this is the most telling line of the poem in that it's not money you're losing but something more, sanity maybe.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
remember the shark that
almost ate me.
Refill.

this whole stanza shouts of being on your own, drowning your sorrows and losses. (though i'm probably wrong ) i do think this is the poem

[tmanzano]

"Cutting Cards"

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
remember the shark that
almost ate me.
Refill.

The gambling I get... What rings more is the lack of fulfillment in many of the things that used to give joy and zest. I read the wheel of fortune line as growing old. S3 feels a little out of flow with the rest if this piece. However, does work for me based on my assessment on what I think this piece is talking about. A little work on that stanza and it ties it up for me. I maybe be way off here, but I think that gambling was a catalyst for losing youth. I loved it...

Cutting cards... Half way through life? Midlife?

[Brownlie]

"Cutting Cards"

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
remember the shark that
almost ate me.
Refill.

Can't provide a line by line but I get the feeling this about not being able to feel the rush of passion. Wheel of fortune sticks out as a salient image. I would suggest describing the lonely casino at the edge of town. Bukowski wrote a poem called roll the dice you might want to check it out on YouTube if you haven't heard the poem before. Was howl a Ginsberg reference?

[Vistaldust]

"Cutting Cards"

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
remember the shark that
almost ate me.
Refill.

Can't provide a line by line but I get the feeling this about not being able to feel the rush of passion. Wheel of fortune sticks out as a salient image. I would suggest describing the lonely casino at the edge of town. Bukowski wrote a poem called roll the dice you might want to check it out on YouTube if you haven't heard the poem before. Was howl a Ginsberg reference?

Yes, Brownie. It was a Ginsberg reference....not because I am a "great mind of my time", but because like those inspiring minds, I have to be contained (in my case, by meds), and that containment has dulled all the senses. If you look at the post above, I've explained my true intentions of the poem.

[Brownlie]

"Cutting Cards"

Catatonic is safe,
but It's me who wears
the dead fur.
I cannot howl anymore.
No more edge in winning
the high-minded marathon.
Books no longer set ablaze.
Tails no longer wag me stiff.
Now I sit calmly at the
Secretary of State like
other plain-faced fucks,
acting like the music
doesn't really suck, and
maybe I'll sip latte' and
watch Wheel of Fortune tonight.

They miss some of the old
music my mind could play:
the popular songs that came
close enough to the edge to
make them laugh and
fornicate in their pants just
enough not to explode - as if,
as if, as if.

I stacked two here,
dropped one there,
played dice at the lonely
casino on the edge of town,
always losing more than
my neurons afford.
Looking down at the
bottom of the well, I
remember the shark that
almost ate me.
Refill.

Can't provide a line by line but I get the feeling this about not being able to feel the rush of passion. Wheel of fortune sticks out as a salient image. I would suggest describing the lonely casino at the edge of town. Bukowski wrote a poem called roll the dice you might want to check it out on YouTube if you haven't heard the poem before. Was howl a Ginsberg reference?

Yes, Brownie. It was a Ginsberg reference....not because I am a "great mind of my time", but because like those inspiring minds, I have to be contained (in my case, by meds), and that containment has dulled all the senses. If you look at the post above, I've explained my true intentions of the poem.

They've given me Depakote and antipsychotics and I know of mania though it may have been drug induced mania...