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I am bored of love. This pointless exchange
of empty gestures, a dinner here, a weekend there,
delaying intercourse until we can be sure
that we've followed the rules, "spent time
with each other," just like the book said,
and the inane couple, grinning like kids
on the dust jacket, he with his expensive
coat, rimless glasses, and her wearing
pearls below a bob of red hair. How dull
must one be to lecture one's fellows on love?
I have never been spoiled, kissed or caressed
or told I'm "the one," and yet I see this grim future,
spread out like a road map before me. Oh if only
I could be the last of the long dead Medici,
that Florentine pig, with his fruit baskets and
chamber pots, parades of lush young men,
muscly and greased and dancing like girls
about his monstrous master bed. That glorious
faggot, he seized the day and cherished it.
Already I am bored of love, without having felt it.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
My qualm with this is more philosophical. It's 2:30 in the morning, so I'll just facebook my critiques this to you...
BUT
It is much different from a lot of your work in actual form. It's straightforward; almost as if you're sitting across the table talking to me, which is something I admire.
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(01-05-2011, 12:47 PM)Heslopian Wrote: I am bored of love. This pointless exchange
of empty gestures, a dinner here, a weekend there,
delaying intercourse until we can be sure
that we've followed the rules, "spent time
with each other," just like the book said,
and the inane couple, grinning like kids
on the dust jacket, he with his expensive
coat, rimless glasses, and her wearing
pearls below a bob of red hair. How dull
must one be to lecture one's fellows on love?
I have never been spoiled, kissed or caressed
or told I'm "the one," and yet I see this grim future,
spread out like a road map before me. Oh if only
I could be the last of the long dead Medici, great lines from here down
that Florentine pig, with his fruit baskets and
chamber pots, parades of lush young men,
muscly and greased and dancing like girls
about his monstrous master bed. That glorious
faggot, he seized the day and cherished it.
Already I am bored of love, without having felt it.
this is an easy going divulgent poem. i like the medici attribute to it. i was a bit confused with ; I have never been spoiled, kissed or caressed
or told I'm "the one,"
after saying i am bored with love. though i do understand you could be bored with love without doing the act, so to speak.
i can't anything i'd change as such apart from taking a peek at point i mentioned. other than that i enjoyed the read jack, thanks
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Outside of one minor nit: I would consider cutting "one's fellows"
This had a great conversational quality to it.
I absolutely love the line break on Line 3 and this of course:
I could be the last of the long dead Medici,
that Florentine pig, with his fruit baskets and
chamber pots, parades of lush young men,
muscly and greased and dancing like girls
about his monstrous master bed. That glorious
faggot, he seized the day and cherished it.
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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(01-05-2011, 04:21 PM)Lawrence Wrote: My qualm with this is more philosophical. It's 2:30 in the morning, so I'll just facebook my critiques this to you...
BUT
It is much different from a lot of your work in actual form. It's straightforward; almost as if you're sitting across the table talking to me, which is something I admire.
Thank you for your comment, Lawrence. I look forward to reading your critique on facebook
(01-05-2011, 06:06 PM)billy Wrote: (01-05-2011, 12:47 PM)Heslopian Wrote: I am bored of love. This pointless exchange
of empty gestures, a dinner here, a weekend there,
delaying intercourse until we can be sure
that we've followed the rules, "spent time
with each other," just like the book said,
and the inane couple, grinning like kids
on the dust jacket, he with his expensive
coat, rimless glasses, and her wearing
pearls below a bob of red hair. How dull
must one be to lecture one's fellows on love?
I have never been spoiled, kissed or caressed
or told I'm "the one," and yet I see this grim future,
spread out like a road map before me. Oh if only
I could be the last of the long dead Medici, great lines from here down
that Florentine pig, with his fruit baskets and
chamber pots, parades of lush young men,
muscly and greased and dancing like girls
about his monstrous master bed. That glorious
faggot, he seized the day and cherished it.
Already I am bored of love, without having felt it.
this is an easy going divulgent poem. i like the medici attribute to it. i was a bit confused with ; I have never been spoiled, kissed or caressed
or told I'm "the one,"
after saying i am bored with love. though i do understand you could be bored with love without doing the act, so to speak.
i can't anything i'd change as such apart from taking a peek at point i mentioned. other than that i enjoyed the read jack, thanks 
Thank you for your kind words and feedback, Billy. Looking back on this piece, written several months ago, I find it slightly lacking in ideological consistency, exemplified by the nit you mentioned. I'll have a think about how I might change it.
(01-06-2011, 07:16 AM)Todd Wrote: Outside of one minor nit: I would consider cutting "one's fellows"
This had a great conversational quality to it.
I absolutely love the line break on Line 3 and this of course:
I could be the last of the long dead Medici,
that Florentine pig, with his fruit baskets and
chamber pots, parades of lush young men,
muscly and greased and dancing like girls
about his monstrous master bed. That glorious
faggot, he seized the day and cherished it.
Best,
Todd
Thank you for the kind words and feedback, Todd. The central purpose behind that phrase "one's fellows" was to bump up the word count of the line. I'll think about removing it. Thanks again
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
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It does sound very much different from your other pieces, but the style really suits the mood... conversational, weary, and almost beige at the beginning. There's a lack of frustration here that makes the pain all the more poignant. Great stuff
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?
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I guess the lack of anxiety marks this as different from my other pieces, but conversational, weary and beige sounds like my regular style. Thanks for the kind words and feedback, Addy
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
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Fantastic poem!
Like it very much!
R.Y.
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Thank you Ris Yerg
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
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