Dusty -revised

[ray]

Revised version 


 

I just don’t know what to do with my self

and it’s seldom I can locate it.

I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask

a mist has covered the traces.

In living rooms and in limbo,

on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.

I’ve read the self-help literature,

Bergson et al and etcetera:

the brain is but a filterer

and in theory all can be heard and seen,

what is now and what has been.

The world is on my fingerprints,

its garbage overflows the bins

and I am blown by violins

to search my self to smithereens

down half-remembered alleyways,

the detritus of all the days

that’s settled on your counterpane.

Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips

too intimately intricate,

let’s laugh and listen to the drip

of a viscously blue percussion.

Let’s steal a ball with a private invite

and dare the world to pursue;

then at daybreak when the dust has flattened

and the great birds hover and squawk,

I’ll shrink smaller than invisible

and beg you to turn on the dark.



Original




I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask
then mist has covered the traces.
In living rooms and in limbo,
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature,
Bergson et al and etcetera:
the brain is but a filterer
and in theory all can be heard and seen,
what is now and what has been.
The world is on my fingerprints,
its garbage overflows the bins
and I am blown by violins
to search my self to smithereens
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days
that’s settled on your counterpane.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip
of percussion dabbled blue.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible
and beg you to turn on the dark.

[billy]

cliches aren't good in genral as far as poetry is concerned. even less on a first line.
I just don’t know what to do with myself  is a  hit song written by burt baccarat and sung by dusty springfield and few other famous singers. (if you think you've read/heard it before the odds are you have) i do see you title it dust but perhaps the first line would have been better for the title what spoils it is most of the lines are from the lyrics of many popular songs and artists. it's not an original concept in and of itself though it can be used as an writing exercise.  many lyrics are cliche and cliche, as i said above spoils most poems. for me it doesn't work and reads as a bit of a cheat.

I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask  this one is like a line from a jake miller song
then mist has covered the traces.
In living rooms and in limbo, this one almost belongs to jimmy cliff
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature,
Bergson et al and etcetera:
the brain is but a filterer
and in theory all can be heard and seen,
what is now and what has been.
The world is on my fingerprints,  this is a coupling of two lines from paul simon's all around the world
its garbage overflows the bins
and I am blown by violins
to search my self to smithereens
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days
that’s settled on your counterpane.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip
of percussion dabbled blue.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible
and beg you to turn on the dark.

[ray]

Thanks, Billy. Yeah, the first line mimics a well known song and the title its most famous singer, but as for the rest, you seem to have picked up an idea and ran nowhere in particular. For the record - pun fully intended - I've never heard of Jake Miller, but my name happens to be Ray Miller, so that obviously accounts for the confusion. Jimmy Cliff has a song with Limbo in the title, Walking in Limbo, I think, and I have a line which contains the word Limbo - bang to rights. Paul Simon has a song with an alternative title of The Myth of Fingerprints and I have a line the world is on my fingerprints  so, yeah, gotta hold up my hand to that one - pun fully intended.
most of the lines are from the lyrics of many popular songs and artists.  - well, actually, just the one
for me it doesn't work and reads as a bit of a cheat.    - I'm not in a litigious mood
Yours, Dusty Miller

I ought to add, I do think the poem is rubbish, but not for the reasons stated

[ellajam]

Hi ray, I found plenty to like here, mostly in the bottom half, the poem for me took off here:

to search my self to smithereens
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days
that’s settled on your counterpane.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip
of percussion dabbled blue.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible
and beg you to turn on the dark.

I don't have time for a proper critique right now, I'll be back later, but "rubbish" isn't the term I'd use here.

[ellajam]

So the more I read this the more I like it. I like it dealing with an unexamined life vs an obsessively examined life vs a reasonably examined life. It's an important issue for me and this journey through it is interesting. I enjoyed the way the poem slips in and out of rhyme, not so enjoyable is the way it slips in and out of meter. While I realize that a defined meter isn't your aim the poem at points achieves a fine rhythm which is broken here and there. If that's intentional it's your privilege and maybe I'll grow to like it. If you want to smooth it out you can.

I've put a few thoughts below. I don't recognize most of the lyrics billy's talking about so I have no comment on those or on the meaning or acceptability of using them.

I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask
then mist has covered the traces. These four lines are a fine opener. I don't see the value in "then".
In living rooms and in limbo, This works in sense and sound.
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it. Enjoyed the image, you may not need the second "on".
I’ve read the self-help literature,
Bergson et al and etcetera: Bergson was an interesting choice to lead the list, it twisted the view for me.
the brain is but a filterer
and in theory all can be heard and seen,
what is now and what has been. The way you've placed these three lines you may not need "in theory".
The world is on my fingerprints,
its garbage overflows the bins
and I am blown by violins I don't understand this line, though it does sound pretty.
to search my self to smithereens Great line, sonically and the thought of it. Here also starts a beautiful ride to the end.
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days  Nice Ds in these two lines.
that’s settled on your counterpane. I had to look up counterpane, it's not a word I use, though it works and is lovely, just odd.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips A real keeper of a line.
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip
of percussion dabbled blue. This line lies flat for me, it breaks the rhythm with no reward.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite Private invite again does nothing for me, the whole line seems off.
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened I like the use of flattened here, it breaks the meter in a flat way that seems fitting.
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible Slipping "shrink" in made me smile.
and beg you to turn on the dark.Love the last line.

You did some fine work with alliteration and rhyme here, it's not intrusive and sounds great. I hope my comments help you see the poem through my eyes and will help you clarify where you think I've got it wrong.

Thanks for posting it, a fun interesting piece.

[billy]

Thanks, Billy. Yeah, the first line mimics a well known song and the title its most famous singer, but as for the rest, you seem to have picked up an idea and ran nowhere in particular. For the record - pun fully intended - I've never heard of Jake Miller, but my name happens to be Ray Miller, so that obviously accounts for the confusion. Jimmy Cliff has a song with Limbo in the title, Walking in Limbo, I think, and I have a line which contains the word Limbo - bang to rights. Paul Simon has a song with an alternative title of The Myth of Fingerprints and I have a line the world is on my fingerprints  so, yeah, gotta hold up my hand to that one - pun fully intended.
most of the lines are from the lyrics of many popular songs and artists.  - well, actually, just the one
for me it doesn't work and reads as a bit of a cheat.    - I'm not in a litigious mood
Yours, Dusty Miller

I ought to add, I do think the poem is rubbish, but not for the reasons stated

are you agreeing with me or disagreeing with me

[bena]

It's a very gray area...I've written many things inspired by or used direct quotes from lyrics, or used allusions to lyrics that people would understand....but in general I've found the best way around it is to footnote and give credit where credit is due. Even if it is a pun.

The poem to me does read like a stream of conciousness of something written while turning the radio to different stations. I'm not sure where it was going and I'm not sure where I ended up, but I did go along with the ride and there are some wonderful lines (of your own) in here that could be starting points of great poems themselves. The last two lines are brilliant and could be the start of something rather than the end. Just a thought.

mel.

[ray]

Thanks for the comments.

Billy - Seriously, apart from the opening line this poem owes nothing to any songs. These lines

down half-remembered alleyways, the detritus of all the days

may be close to something by T.S.Eliot, I can't recall. I started the poem a few years back and it's not been abandoned yet.  

Ellajam - very helpful, ta. You're right about these lines

of percussion dabbled blue. 
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite

they're the ones I most have problems with too. 

Mel - it's interesting what you say, stream of consciousness, different radio stations. I suppose the poem is a reflection on recreational drug use, theory and practice. The opening line is what I often found myself singing when under the influence.

[billy]

okay, i just had a bit of trouble working out the yay or nay. :J: i'll leave some feedback later o the basis of it just being the one line

[billy]

it's an enjoyable read if i empty my head of a f lyrics.  for me i think some of the smaller words could be edited out and in doing so make some of the images more prominent. 

I just don’t know what to do with my self  the first line is a little weak because it's so well known. would it have more strength somewhere else within the poem
and it’s seldom I can locate it.  a clever play on/off self
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask  this line is beyond my understanding, and it seems to be a different type of self
then mist has covered the traces. [then] feels awkward.
In living rooms and in limbo,
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature, this and the two lines above have a fun feel to them the self-help lit is also clever
Bergson et al and etcetera:
the brain is but a filterer
and in theory all can be heard and seen,
what is now and what has been. almost a bible cliche first seen in; [Ecclesiastes 1:9 What has been will be again]


The world is on my fingerprints,
its garbage overflows the bins
and I am blown by violins  for some reason i got a laugh from this line though i'm not sure why. good start to the 2nd stanza ( i say stanza because some of the end rhymes aren't working)
to search my self to smithereens
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days
that’s settled on your counterpane.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip this line and the two above it work well as a unit within the poem but now the self is the two selves.?
of percussion dabbled blue.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible
and beg you to turn on the dark.

[ray]

I seem to have inadvertently changed the paragraph spacing or whatever it's called, on all my posts. That is, there's a space between each line. Anyone can tell me how to correct it?

[ray]

Thanks, Billy. then mist has covered the traces  - then has gone.
Which of the rhymes aren't working, do you think?

let’s laugh and listen to the drip this line and the two above it work well as a unit within the poem but now the self is the two selves.?

no, not two selves, but a partner.

I'm having great trouble with the fonts on here all of a sudden!

[ellajam]

I seem to have inadvertently changed the paragraph spacing or whatever it's called, on all my posts. That is, there's a space between each line. Anyone can tell me how to correct it?

ha, not a clue, pasting has been pretty wonky since the last update. All your code looks the same to me, if you edit in Full Edit and delete the lines does it hold when you save changes?

[billy]

take a look at my post using the reply function and click on the source icon [it's next to the icon containing 4 green squares] did you copy and past from word? it's easier when formatting a block of text to highlight the block of text and formatting it as a whole.

Revised version

I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask
a mist has covered the traces.
In living rooms and in limbo,
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature,

Code:

[size=small][color=#000000][font=Times New Roman]Revised version

I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask
a mist has covered the traces.
In living rooms and in limbo,
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature,[/font][/color][/size]

[billy]

Thanks, Billy. then mist has covered the traces  - then has gone.
Which of the rhymes aren't working, do you think?

Original





I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask
then mist has covered the traces.
In living rooms and in limbo,
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature,  all rhymes up to this point seem non existant
Bergson et al and etcetera:
the brain is but a filterer
and in theory all can be heard and seen,
what is now and what has been.  these two couplets rhyme.
The world is on my fingerprints,
its garbage overflows the bins
and I am blown by violins  this couplet rhymes
to search my self to smithereens
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days  this couplet rhymes
that’s settled on your counterpane.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips from here there's an alternating rhyme in places that seem to switchback though drip and lips is half rhyme almost
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip
of percussion dabbled blue.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible
and beg you to turn on the dark.
in general it rhymes in places and not in others. the places where it rhymes become more obvious that good consistent rhymes. forgive me if i see something you don't see :J:

let’s laugh and listen to the drip this line and the two above it work well as a unit within the poem but now the self is the two selves.?

no, not two selves, but a partner. i understand that , rightly or wrongly i saw the poem about self, and that the person was questioning their own being/existence.   sorry if i read it wrong.

I'm having great trouble with the fonts on here all of a sudden!

i seem to making lots of apologies but the thing is; it's what i see, while i'm fine with you questioning what i see. it doesn't make or allow me to not see it. on that basis my apologies are my way of not arguing any points you have within the thread. if you see what i say as wrong that's fine, ignore those parts.

[ray]

Ah, cheers Billy. It's not meant to rhyme consistently throughout, so that's cleared that up. Although, with a squinted eye I can get locate it, traces, chased it close enough. I think the introduction of another, a partner, is more of a problem, almost becomes 2 poems. I shall think on it. Thanks for your time.