Town and Country Blues

[tectak]

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop--
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied,
then sits like stone upon my heart.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife;
but what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

[RiverNotch]

A few early thoughts:

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try "through fret and try" feels like a weakening, especially with fret having a bunch of conflicting meanings. Or maybe the conflicting meanings is the point, with the frets of a guitar being integral to the blues -- I keep seeing the speaker here as you, the poet's, usual object of description, now endowed with a lovely (if a bit, I dunno, cheesy) tongue -- but that might be reading too much into't.
and try to see what you see here. The repetition of "try" kinda works, but the more I read it, the more I feel like it's just there to fill in the foot-gap.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh I love this line's imagery. 
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop-- Don't get why this part has to be separated by em-dashes. Also, ungulates is an ugly, ugly word.
sticks glutinously to my every stride "glutinously" gums up this line for me a bit too much -- ain't there a more confident modifier for this?
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain. Why must this stanza have one line more than the rest? The line with the ungulates could easily be dropped.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied, The two big pictures here, "diamond days" and "beast of black depression", feel as if they compete for attention to me, since both border on schlock -- that is, to have them both here makes these two lines for me be ridiculous. 
then sits like stone upon my heart. I like this line's imagery -- a bit common, the inferring side of my cultural mind declares, but I'm a sucker for sitting beasts. 
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust The constant sounds here make the bliss and the lust feel blissful and lusty, I think -- another work would benefit better from this, I think.
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain. "we'd lay" would be righter, since at the speaker's now, they lie on nothing so sweet, but the error here may be negligible.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife; Again, the sound effects really make these lines. "the common strife" feels a bit, I dunno, common, though, to the point of ending these two lines on a too-blunt note. And I don't think a semicolon is the right punctuation mark here -- either a comma, or something, er, wronger, like a silly !
but what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all; I was hoping "all" would instead be a word alliterative with "pain", as with the three earlier stanzas. 
the truth of what we have is loving pain. "loving pain" I think suffers from the same kenning-weakness as "common strife", I think. 
Down comes more rain.

It works, and it sounds good, but it doesn't speak to me, at least not yet. Something just seems so....common about all this, even if the strife is better-weighed. As usual, I might change my mind about this, so I'll probably return.

[tectak]

A few early thoughts:

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try "through fret and try" feels like a weakening, especially with fret having a bunch of conflicting meanings. Or maybe the conflicting meanings is the point, with the frets of a guitar being integral to the blues -- I keep seeing the speaker here as you, the poet's, usual object of description, now endowed with a lovely (if a bit, I dunno, cheesy) tongue -- but that might be reading too much into't.
and try to see what you see here. The repetition of "try" kinda works, but the more I read it, the more I feel like it's just there to fill in the foot-gap.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh I love this line's imagery. 
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop-- Don't get why this part has to be separated by em-dashes. Also, ungulates is an ugly, ugly word.
sticks glutinously to my every stride "glutinously" gums up this line for me a bit too much -- ain't there a more confident modifier for this?
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain. Why must this stanza have one line more than the rest? The line with the ungulates could easily be dropped.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied, The two big pictures here, "diamond days" and "beast of black depression", feel as if they compete for attention to me, since both border on schlock -- that is, to have them both here makes these two lines for me be ridiculous. 
then sits like stone upon my heart. I like this line's imagery -- a bit common, the inferring side of my cultural mind declares, but I'm a sucker for sitting beasts. 
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust The constant sounds here make the bliss and the lust feel blissful and lusty, I think -- another work would benefit better from this, I think.
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain. "we'd lay" would be righter, since at the speaker's now, they lie on nothing so sweet, but the error here may be negligible.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife; Again, the sound effects really make these lines. "the common strife" feels a bit, I dunno, common, though, to the point of ending these two lines on a too-blunt note. And I don't think a semicolon is the right punctuation mark here -- either a comma, or something, er, wronger, like a silly !
but what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all; I was hoping "all" would instead be a word alliterative with "pain", as with the three earlier stanzas. 
the truth of what we have is loving pain. "loving pain" I think suffers from the same kenning-weakness as "common strife", I think. 
Down comes more rain.

It works, and it sounds good, but it doesn't speak to me, at least not yet. Something just seems so....common about all this, even if the strife is better-weighed. As usual, I might change my mind about this, so I'll probably return.

Great stuff, river....and thank you. I fretted over "fret" but apart from the tenuous and slanted connection to a guitar (accidental) I hoped the word "shipped" would make the reader think "sea"....so we are talking sea-fret here. The repeat of "try" is probably too vernacular...a desperate attempt to make the character human. Cliche maybe....we try and try...
Aha! the em dashes. Well, you plugged it in one. The line WAS inserted after I had written the second stanza on scents and sounds of bliss....I will lose it but WILL put it in another piece because I like it."
"...we'd lain"....just to rhyme with rain. As you say, probably negligible.
Fundamentally disagree on the semi-colon...or rather, the alternatives. It is used here because nothing else would give me the pause (a much under estimated use for punctuation) I want.
I need help with common strife. I know what I mean but that is not good enough. I want the reader to know what I mean. I am trying to suggest that common strife can strangely be more attractive than constant bliss. I know the concept is hackneyed but it is one I can relate to...like walking in cold air, feeling rain peening my skin, sleeping in a cold bedroom etc. Common strife takes many forms. City life where poverty is in your face, crowded pavements, traffic noise....some like it. It is a tough message which I have probably not conveyed to good effect. I will eat your crit.
Best,
tectak

[Erthona]

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop--
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied,
then sits like stone upon my heart.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife;
but what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

_______________________________________________________________________________

I do not take you for an honest Puck
as when you say on " soft green grass" we suck,
and someone else's voice that you appoint,
by saying it is not from your viewpoint,
and yet today I shall not pin you down,
as rain like tears still soaks this soggy ground,
the truth from me, fear not will not be found.
No critique have I.

dale

PS Ella has chastised me for not leaving a full critique in "serious", so

"If you pardon, I will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If I have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the ella's tongue,
I will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your limbs, if we be friends,
And dale with later crit shall make amends."

Shakespeare MSND

[Erthona]

I will do my duty, to the best of my ability and hate every minute of it.

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky; (as there is no pause after "out" I see no need for a comma.)
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try (and try and try and try....)
and try to see what you see here. (oh I see, "here" is for the meter, otherwise there is no point to it)
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh ( a bit over the top, or an abrupt drop into the macabre)
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop-- (first dying flesh now cow shit)
sticks glutinously to my every stride (I like how " glutinously" rolls off the tongue)
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied, ("the beast of black depression" very original phrase")
then sits like stone upon my heart. (also another gem of originality)
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain. (so are we talking cows? You did mention them. But of course you are referring to the dog.)
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife; (nice beat-like phrase)
but what is silence if not death? (Well silence is silence unless it is the silence of death, this does not logically follow)
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel. (" Do not go gentle into that good night")
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.  (It's getting decidedly wet "here".)

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

______________________________________________________________________________________
I think we both know what what you are talking about and if you do not know, then you are blind and unconscious. Well, the beat goes on, doesn't it, even if one of the players stops. Still it takes more than a moment to get over that customary sound of years once it abruptly stops. Still, the beat goes on and the rain comes down. Overall a nice metaphor, intended or not.

Best,

dale

[nikkisto]

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop--                    I stand with the others here, this line seems a distraction from what is a very solid open
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;      This stanza seems to best fit your stated goal in regards to representing
the beast of black depression says you lied,                an opposing view. It shows some vulnerability and an expression of loss rather 
then sits like stone upon my heart.                             than a superficial discomfort with an unpleasant surrounding.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife;
but what is silence if not death?             
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;                  
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

I almost wish I hadn't read the note about it being an exercise in representing an opposing view. In that I think it failed somewhat, I feel like I'm hearing bits and pieces of an argument previously had but I'm lacking the vulnerability and emotional depth of one truly empathizing with the experience of another. At the same time that does come through in spots, as I mentioned above. The speaker comes across as somewhat whiny and self indulgent at the beginning, which may be an indication of bias creeping in? Overall, I really enjoyed the read!

[tectak]

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop--
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied,
then sits like stone upon my heart.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife;
but what is silence if not death?
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

_______________________________________________________________________________

I do not take you for an honest Puck
as when you say on " soft green grass" we suck,
and someone else's voice that you appoint,
by saying it is not from your viewpoint,
and yet today I shall not pin you down,
as rain like tears still soaks this soggy ground,
the truth from me, fear not will not be found.
No critique have I.

dale

PS Ella has chastised me for not leaving a full critique in "serious", so

"If you pardon, I will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If I have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the ella's tongue,
I will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your limbs, if we be friends,
And dale with later crit shall make amends."

Shakespeare MSND

One of your better works
Best, Tom....moving on.

---

I will do my duty, to the best of my ability and hate every minute of it.

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky; (as there is no pause after "out" I see no need for a comma.)
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try (and try and try and try....)
and try to see what you see here. (oh I see, "here" is for the meter, otherwise there is no point to it)
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh ( a bit over the top, or an abrupt drop into the macabre)
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop-- (first dying flesh now cow shit)
sticks glutinously to my every stride (I like how " glutinously" rolls off the tongue)
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;
the beast of black depression says you lied, ("the beast of black depression" very original phrase")
then sits like stone upon my heart. (also another gem of originality)
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain. (so are we talking cows? You did mention them. But of course you are referring to the dog.)
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife; (nice beat-like phrase)
but what is silence if not death? (Well silence is silence unless it is the silence of death, this does not logically follow)
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel. (" Do not go gentle into that good night")
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.  (It's getting decidedly wet "here".)

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

______________________________________________________________________________________
I think we both know what what you are talking about and if you do not know, then you are blind and unconscious. Well, the beat goes on, doesn't it, even if one of the players stops. Still it takes more than a moment to get over that customary sound of years once it abruptly stops. Still, the beat goes on and the rain comes down. Overall a nice metaphor, intended or not.

Best,

dale

Whatho Dale
.
As this is work in progress I eat all crit. Everything anyone says about this is valid on some level. I got bored writing innermost thoughts stuff and so thought I would try to write something which I did not feel. Bugger me, it is not easy. It is like trying to write in a mirror with the wrong hand BUT certain aspects do not invert...laterally or otherwise. I am thinking grammar here or rather, punctuation. Take that last sentence. As you know, I am a stickler for reading stuff out loud. When I read "I am thinking grammar here", I commit. The pensive pause of a comma COULD come after "grammar". I don't read it that way, though. I read it as "I am thinking grammar here (committed) or rather (correction due to second thought), (pensive pause to establish what the hell I do mean), punctuation" It IS a device much overused by orators in the political arena to suggest deep thought has gone in to the pronouncement. So it is in the line " You shipped me out" (committed), (pause to confirm understanding) beneath this foreign sky (that's what the hell I mean)".
The use of "here", though, IS for meter...and there is a very good purpose if ever there was. Harrrummph!
I am getting rid of the ungulate line against my better judgement because it just seemed to typify the city boy in the country. God, I will miss it but will save it for a...er....rainy day. So to cliches.
Yes, yes...beast of black depression et al. What IS a boy to do? Scrambled egg all over my face.

You are astute. The metaphor crept in without me knowing it until the "Silence is Death" moment. Thing is, it is universally accepted by those wot know these things that hearing is the LAST sense to go at point of popping 'orf. It is MY understanding that even those profoundly deaf from birth (and I have asked) can "imagine" sounds...though what these "sounds" sound like I cannot imagine. Nonetheless, as a moot point, I decided that for the beauty of polemic to keep the thought in. Prove me wrong.
As I began, so I end. An exercise, maybe, but I genuinely tried to take a strongly held view and argue against it. I am a country boy but believe me, grass sucks.
Best,
Tom

---

You shipped me out, beneath this foreign sky;
with bleeding eyes I look through fret and try
and try to see what you see here.
The sodden ground that yields like gangrened flesh
-- it stinks of ungulates and all they drop--                    I stand with the others here, this line seems a distraction from what is a very solid open
sticks glutinously to my every stride
so that my very walk becomes a strain.
Down comes more rain.

There are no lights once diamond days have died;      This stanza seems to best fit your stated goal in regards to representing
the beast of black depression says you lied,                an opposing view. It shows some vulnerability and an expression of loss rather 
then sits like stone upon my heart.                             than a superficial discomfort with an unpleasant surrounding.
You promised me the scents and sounds of bliss,
where we would roll and wrap ourselves in lust
and suck the soft green grass on which we’d lain.
Down comes more rain.

I want the noise, the blaze and blare of life,
to bump and bruise within the common strife;
but what is silence if not death?             
Speak loud and scream if that is what you feel.
Hit hard and low and blame me for it all;                  
the truth of what we have is loving pain.
Down comes more rain.

tectak
2016  

Note. An exercise in writing fom a diametrically opposite viewpoint to the one I hold...that's all.

I almost wish I hadn't read the note about it being an exercise in representing an opposing view. In that I think it failed somewhat, I feel like I'm hearing bits and pieces of an argument previously had but I'm lacking the vulnerability and emotional depth of one truly empathizing with the experience of another. At the same time that does come through in spots, as I mentioned above. The speaker comes across as somewhat whiny and self indulgent at the beginning, which may be an indication of bias creeping in? Overall, I really enjoyed the read!

Hi nikk,
Your end analysis is pointed. I may have mislead you. I didn't mean I (the character)was writing the opposing view to someone else (A N Other character), but that I was writing the opposing view to how I (the writer) myself felt. Hmmm...so that explains the whinyness I guess. It also raises the intriguing prospect of bias against oneself...I may need to cogitate on what this piece really means to me.
Many thanks for your comments. The ungulate has gone.
Best
tectak