Eli Eli lama sabachthani

[nightKnight]

Eli Eli lama sabachthani
I've had issues with Father since I was six.
Bored while I'm shown temples, churches and Abbeys,
The lessons I was given made me wish for The Styx,
But instead all I got was the stick.

I'm wrong. An abomination. A shame.
Whilst I am lazy, lazy and ill formed,
My Father in his heydays fed all, fixed all and even healed the lame

But I don't see him much any more.
I ask around. Even those who loved him
Are losing faith in the image they once saw.
I can't say I miss him. Everything was wrong, a Sin.
Noise on a Sunday? Sin. Dancing? Sin. Tattoo? Sin.

Unfortunately I hear about him on the news.
Causing havoc, leading people down dark paths
Gathering more friends, a powder keg with a short fuse.

I think Father died a while ago.
Starvation, rape and murder
Body upon body attracting the worm and the crow
Each war, famine and plague pushing him further.
And he distanced himself farther.

All that is left is a husk, for demons to puppet,
Leaving us with an infection to fight.
I think possibly Nietzsche was right.

[tectak]

Eli Eli lama sabachthani This is the title, yes? Eli (or more acceptably Eloi), Eli. Lama sabachthani?
I've had issues with Father since I was six. If paternal, no capital. If the deity, then the Father
Bored while I'm shown temples, churches and Abbeys,
The lessons I was given made me wish for The Styx,
But instead all I got was the stick. You confusingly capitalise every Iine. Do you know why?

I'm wrong. An abomination. A shame. Meter like falling logs
Whilst I am lazy, lazy and ill formed, Why whilst? Why twice lazy? Lazy. Ill-informed?
My Father in his heydays fed all, fixed all and even healed the lameheyday. Not commonly pluralised. Your poem

But I don't see him much any more.
I ask around. Even those who loved him
Are losing faith in the image they once saw.
I can't say I miss him. Everything was wrong, a Sin.
Noise on a Sunday? Sin. Dancing? Sin. Tattoo? Sin. Ranty but weak

Unfortunately I hear about him on the news.
Causing havoc, leading people down dark paths
Gathering more friends, a powder keg with a short fuse. Hmmm. A bit cliched...no...a whole lot cliched

I think Father died a while ago.
Starvation, rape and murder
Body upon body attracting the worm and the crow
Each war, famine and plague pushing him further.
And he distanced himself farther. Godawful rhyme

All that is left is a husk, for demons to puppet,
Leaving us with an infection to fight.
I think possibly Nietzsche was right. A rush to the finish line. It really makes little sense in context. The cliches are hiding but they are there. You could work on the ending. Should.

Hi,
It isn't that this crit is mild so much as diluted. You think thoughts  but write them down almost unmodified by effort. I think that is what this needs. More effort...to put it mildly.
Only you can clarify this. Give it a go.
Best,
tectak[/b]

[Todd]

Hi nightKnight,


Welcome to the site! Let me give you a few comments on your poem for your consideration.

Eli Eli lama sabachthani--Minor issues with the title. I think the Psalm 22/words on the cross allusion are a bit problematic. The tone of statement lends itself to despair, disillusionment, the problem I have is the speaker is already resigned to the state they find themselves in. This is no journey; we are alreaady at the destination when the poem starts. We are simply moving through a recalled path. 
I've had issues with Father since I was six.
Bored while I'm shown temples, churches and Abbeys,
The lessons I was given made me wish for The Styx,
But instead all I got was the stick.

I'm wrong. An abomination. A shame.
Whilst I am lazy, lazy and ill formed,--Your third line here is interesting. What needs work is that you tend to list out descriptors, but descriptors alone are a bit too abstract and carry little emotive power. Perhaps go for a more tightly written specific issue(s)
My Father in his heydays fed all, fixed all and even healed the lame

But I don't see him much any more.
I ask around. Even those who loved him--This sort of tone of voice sounds good.
Are losing faith in the image they once saw.
I can't say I miss him. Everything was wrong, a Sin.
Noise on a Sunday? Sin. Dancing? Sin. Tattoo? Sin.--Again less list go a bit deeper.

Unfortunately I hear about him on the news.
Causing havoc, leading people down dark paths--Phrasing like "causing havoc" is too general.
Gathering more friends, a powder keg with a short fuse.

I think Father died a while ago.--If you end on Nietzsche this is expressed too early and steals the final moment.
Starvation, rape and murder--Another list, go deeper
Body upon body attracting the worm and the crow
Each war, famine and plague pushing him further.
And he distanced himself farther.--doesn't add much from the previous line

All that is left is a husk, for demons to puppet,
Leaving us with an infection to fight.
I think possibly Nietzsche was right.

Just some thoughts to consider. Its a topic that can be developed. I think you just need to move one or two layers deeper. I hope some of that helps.

Best,

Todd