"Of Dead Wings & Hungry Wind"

[rEVOLVEr]

Nothin' more than a feathered swarm of carcass craving meal crooks, they is.

Sleazy & slick like the salesmen, who's dressed to the 9's in a sinister snakeskin suit ..
to more swiftly seduce his clientele into SIGNING ALONG THE DOTTED LINE!

When them poor bastards..
they ain't got a godamn clue..

With eyes of knives great for cutting
so their cunning can slip easily through the wounds undetected..

Proudly they is.. them undeserving bastards ..
always pondering how best to go about procurement of todays potential prize.

decisions to make
decisions to fake

Prideless & Proud of it

you see, because there ain't nothin' never stoppin' them none from constantly feinding --
feverishly for a feast on a forever-stretched-field of the festering rotting dead..

Insatiable addicts.

'Cuz brother, once that scent..
that sweet fucking scent of suffering mixes in with the carefree direction of the breeze ..

they find it..

Eventually..

Always.

To them .. that sweet scent of suffering under a mid-summer sun is like..

***** Grandma's apple-pie - and how the smell of it ALWAYS knew where to find you.. & once you were discovered.. how convincing it was in kidnapping you with

temptation.

Useless is the heroine once heroin-addicted..

So you my as well grab you's another slice of that pie..

while it's still warm.. *****

hope, for them, can only be brought 'bout by something sufferin' .. strugglin'..

Because they.. they know it WILL lead to death, undeniably.

& death leads to dinner.. every time.

and every time they feed
you'll see cowards.
you'll see crooks
Yet be jealous of Kings?

Indeed

Kings who are constantly convincing their own conscience that consistently craving carnivorous acts on the dead or unconscious, at a constant.. are not concerned that this may create any fucking consequence..

ain't it ironic that Nature.. - Brutal, Just, & Honest be out-witted by the goddamn scavenging of the sky wings..?!

they, the menacing

them, the hungry

& those, the heartless..

So if you happen to one day find yourself prepped & dead-ready..
Taking your bows .. after your final production ..the light begins to suffocate - and then dim..

S L O W L Y

As you close your eyes - As the Red Curtain Falls ... try not to aim your final gaze in the direction of the already apologetic horizon..

Cuz brother, once your stare helps carry the dead scent to her neck of the woods..

The sky .. is now guilty, Her shameful rain falls like tears slipping uncontrollably - the instant she knows a pair of soon-dead eyes be starin' her way..

The glare upon her is a burning salt ..

Pouring itself into the always open wound
-- of her guilt --
for being the vessel for the eventual vendetta of VULTURES

a cry from the heavens .. a heavily breathing horizon is a carrying wind - a trojan horse ..

& Yes, although the gentle arm of the breeze ..
so calming & cool as it reaches for you, whispering gently ..
as it vows to carry you safely
passed death's doorway..

SHE IS A FUCKING LIAR!

Because you'll soon find this serene outro - interrupted..

By the cryptic sound ...

silently approaching on the waves of the very same breeze that once whispered empty promises of sanctuary..

The Hungry Wings.. gliding on Dead Wind..
and boy have they got them a taste for you.

Hopefully you're dead by now.
Dead by now, nearly.. .. hopefully.
.. dust stirs as the vultures are surrounding you now --
Laughing with each other as they argue over who gets what..

SALIVATING

So Close your eyes..& Play Dead ..
Better yet, Best you Be Dead by this point
Or Be Dead Soon.. because ..

Nature is a flawed concept..

nurtured in a marinade of confidence & safety that will eventually be ripped apart ..
& feasted upon by the talon'd thieves.

Never Look Up..

[rEVOLVEr]

I understand its lengthy.. But damn.. I half expected at least one critique.. "/

[Leanne]

Mate, you posted this three hours ago, cool your jets I don't know about where you are, but here it's breakfast and that's a rather chaotic time in my house.

Nothin' more than a feathered swarm of carcass craving meal crooks, they is. -- probably should be carcass-craving

Sleazy & slick like the salesmen, who's dressed to the 9's in a sinister snakeskin suit .. -- lots of alliteration, maybe "sinister" is a step too far. "Salesmen" is plural, then the rest of the line pertains to the singular, so do you mean one "salesman" only? And I know it's nitpicky, but an ellipsis has three dots.
to more swiftly seduce his clientele into SIGNING ALONG THE DOTTED LINE!

When them poor bastards..
they ain't got a godamn clue.. -- goddamn -- and is the ellipsis needed at the end of this line? Feels more like the place for a full stop.

With eyes of knives great for cutting -- of course knives cut, that's their purpose, why say it so overtly?
so their cunning can slip easily through the wounds undetected.. -- nice image

Proudly they is.. them undeserving bastards ..
always pondering how best to go about procurement of todays potential prize.-- this shift between the vernacular and the more highbrow language isn't quite working for me. If you're going to mingle the two and make it seem like two voices, maybe you could use italics for one

decisions to make
decisions to fake

Prideless & Proud of it -- interesting phrase, I like this

you see, because there ain't nothin' never stoppin' them none from constantly feinding -- feinding?
feverishly for a feast on a forever-stretched-field of the festering rotting dead.. -- again, a lot of alliteration makes this seem overdone

Insatiable addicts.

'Cuz brother, once that scent..
that sweet fucking scent of suffering mixes in with the carefree direction of the breeze ..

they find it..

Eventually..

Always.

To them .. that sweet scent of suffering under a mid-summer sun is like..

***** Grandma's apple-pie - and how the smell of it ALWAYS knew where to find you.. & once you were discovered.. how convincing it was in kidnapping you with

temptation.

Useless is the heroine once heroin-addicted..

So you my as well grab you's another slice of that pie.. -- may

while it's still warm.. *****

hope, for them, can only be brought 'bout by something sufferin' .. strugglin'..

Because they.. they know it WILL lead to death, undeniably.

& death leads to dinner.. every time.

and every time they feed
you'll see cowards.
you'll see crooks
Yet be jealous of Kings?

Indeed

Kings who are constantly convincing their own conscience that consistently craving carnivorous acts on the dead or unconscious, at a constant.. are not concerned that this may create any fucking consequence.. -- or fucking alliteration

ain't it ironic that Nature.. - Brutal, Just, & Honest be out-witted by the goddamn scavenging of the sky wings..?!

they, the menacing

them, the hungry

& those, the heartless..

So if you happen to one day find yourself prepped & dead-ready..
Taking your bows .. after your final production ..the light begins to suffocate - and then dim..

S L O W L Y

As you close your eyes - As the Red Curtain Falls ... try not to aim your final gaze in the direction of the already apologetic horizon..

Cuz brother, once your stare helps carry the dead scent to her neck of the woods..

The sky .. is now guilty, Her shameful rain falls like tears slipping uncontrollably - the instant she knows a pair of soon-dead eyes be starin' her way.. -- rain like tears is cliche

The glare upon her is a burning salt ..

Pouring itself into the always open wound
-- of her guilt --
for being the vessel for the eventual vendetta of VULTURES

a cry from the heavens .. a heavily breathing horizon is a carrying wind - a trojan horse ..

& Yes, although the gentle arm of the breeze ..
so calming & cool as it reaches for you, whispering gently ..
as it vows to carry you safely
passed death's doorway..

SHE IS A FUCKING LIAR!

Because you'll soon find this serene outro - interrupted..

By the cryptic sound ...

silently approaching on the waves of the very same breeze that once whispered empty promises of sanctuary..

The Hungry Wings.. gliding on Dead Wind..
and boy have they got them a taste for you. -- by this point I'm quite sick of this confused vernacular

Hopefully you're dead by now.
Dead by now, nearly.. .. hopefully.
.. dust stirs as the vultures are surrounding you now --
Laughing with each other as they argue over who gets what..

SALIVATING

So Close your eyes..& Play Dead ..
Better yet, Best you Be Dead by this point
Or Be Dead Soon.. because ..

Nature is a flawed concept..

nurtured in a marinade of confidence & safety that will eventually be ripped apart ..
& feasted upon by the talon'd thieves.

Never Look Up..

The fact that I lost interest about three quarters of the way through was nothing to do with the length, but rather the fact that there is no central idea holding this together. The metaphors are all over the place and the tone is inconsistent. There are some good phrases and a lot of your imagery is quite interesting but this is in dire need of an edit.

---

Incidentally, it's a bit churlish to complain about no critiques when you've given none yourself. Reading this thoroughly took me over half an hour. Give and take is what makes a workshop work.

[rEVOLVEr]

Thats more like it. Thank you. And not to seem like I'm defending it - you did EXACTLY what I was hoping for - but the reasoning behind the use of vernacular you grew tired of was meant to portray the narrator as an elderly man from the old west (perhaps sitting in a rocking chair) telling a tale about the politics of vultures.

i appreciate you for taking the time to give me a solíd critique.

---

And yea - i apologize for my impatience ..

[Leanne]

There's no problem using vernacular but it's not consistent. Would your elderly man (that's kinda what I thought you were going for, like the old guy in the rocking chair in John Wayne movies) also use your more elevated language? If I were to write this, I'd try to use two distinct voices, weaving "old man" in with an omniscient narrator.

[billy]

Nothin' more than a feathered swarm of carcass craving meal crooks, they is. the first line seems good enough to interest the reader.

Sleazy & slick like the salesmen, who's dressed to the 9's in a sinister snakeskin suit .. nines not 9's and a period directly after suit would do the trick.
to more swiftly seduce his clientele into SIGNING ALONG THE DOTTED LINE!

When them poor bastards.. should it be three dots for the elipses?
they ain't got a godamn clue.. the elipses is not needed here, should it be god, goddamn, is is 'they' needed?

With eyes of knives great for cutting
so their cunning can slip easily through the wounds undetected.. is so needed, use a period

Proudly they is.. them undeserving bastards .. less of the dots already
always pondering how best to go about procurement of todays potential prize. 'today's' this line feels out of character

decisions to make
decisions to fake

Prideless & Proud of it and not ampersand, is of it needed?

you see, because there ain't nothin' never stoppin' them none from constantly feinding -- is because needed? and now we have extra dashes instead of a dot. what is 'feinding'?
feverishly for a feast on a forever-stretched-field of the festering rotting dead.. feels like to many F's

Insatiable addicts.

'Cuz brother, once that scent..
that sweet fucking scent of suffering mixes in with the carefree direction of the breeze ..

they find it..

Eventually..

Always.

To them .. that sweet scent of suffering under a mid-summer sun is like..

***** Grandma's apple-pie - and how the smell of it ALWAYS knew where to find you.. & once you were discovered.. how convincing it was in kidnapping you with

temptation.

Useless is the heroine once heroin-addicted..

So you my as well grab you's another slice of that pie..

while it's still warm.. *****

hope, for them, can only be brought 'bout by something sufferin' .. strugglin'..

Because they.. they know it WILL lead to death, undeniably.

& death leads to dinner.. every time.

and every time they feed
you'll see cowards.
you'll see crooks
Yet be jealous of Kings?

Indeed

Kings who are constantly convincing their own conscience that consistently craving carnivorous acts on the dead or unconscious, at a constant.. are not concerned that this may create any fucking consequence.. too many c's

ain't it ironic that Nature.. - Brutal, Just, & Honest be out-witted by the goddamn scavenging of the sky wings..?!

they, the menacing

them, the hungry

& those, the heartless..

So if you happen to one day find yourself prepped & dead-ready..
Taking your bows .. after your final production ..the light begins to suffocate - and then dim..

S L O W L Y

As you close your eyes - As the Red Curtain Falls ... try not to aim your final gaze in the direction of the already apologetic horizon..

Cuz brother, once your stare helps carry the dead scent to her neck of the woods..

The sky .. is now guilty, Her shameful rain falls like tears slipping uncontrollably - the instant she knows a pair of soon-dead eyes be starin' her way..

The glare upon her is a burning salt ..

Pouring itself into the always open wound
-- of her guilt --
for being the vessel for the eventual vendetta of VULTURES

a cry from the heavens .. a heavily breathing horizon is a carrying wind - a trojan horse ..

& Yes, although the gentle arm of the breeze ..
so calming & cool as it reaches for you, whispering gently ..
as it vows to carry you safely
passed death's doorway..

SHE IS A FUCKING LIAR!

Because you'll soon find this serene outro - interrupted..

By the cryptic sound ...

silently approaching on the waves of the very same breeze that once whispered empty promises of sanctuary..

The Hungry Wings.. gliding on Dead Wind..
and boy have they got them a taste for you.

Hopefully you're dead by now.
Dead by now, nearly.. .. hopefully.
.. dust stirs as the vultures are surrounding you now --
Laughing with each other as they argue over who gets what..

SALIVATING

So Close your eyes..& Play Dead ..
Better yet, Best you Be Dead by this point
Or Be Dead Soon.. because ..

Nature is a flawed concept..

nurtured in a marinade of confidence & safety that will eventually be ripped apart ..
& feasted upon by the talon'd thieves.

Never Look Up..

the latter part of the poem felt too far of left filed. i found it very hard to follow, i did see a number of clichés though in places it read a bit like train of thought train wreck that held little cohesion. i think the length lets the piece down. with a decent sized cut you'd have a decent poem on your hands. though i never mentioned it above, some of the wording is really solid and expressive. some of the images are also working the poem well. on of the things that threw me off a lot, was all the caps in mid sentence.

don't forget to reciprocate.

an off topic point, sometimes people won't leave feedback if they don't think it worthy or if the poem does nothing for them one way or the other. so sometimes a poem may get no feedback at all.

don't forget to leave feedback elsewhere

[Stormageddon]

It's like Gollum and John Steinbeck wrote a poem together. I really enjoyed it.

[Pete Ak]

I enjoyed lots of parts but the lack of integration made it difficult for me to maintain the same level of concentration throughout. Evocative lines such as "already apologetic horizon", "carefree direction of the breeze" and "empty promises of sanctuary" seem lost in the narrative. Lots of potential tho.

[tectak]

Nothin' more than a feathered swarm of carcass craving meal crooks, they is.

Sleazy & slick like the salesmen, who's dressed to the 9's in a sinister snakeskin suit ..
to more swiftly seduce his clientele into SIGNING ALONG THE DOTTED LINE!

When them poor bastards..
they ain't got a godamn clue..

With eyes of knives great for cutting
so their cunning can slip easily through the wounds undetected..

Proudly they is.. them undeserving bastards ..
always pondering how best to go about procurement of todays potential prize.

decisions to make
decisions to fake

Prideless & Proud of it

you see, because there ain't nothin' never stoppin' them none from constantly feinding --
feverishly for a feast on a forever-stretched-field of the festering rotting dead..

Insatiable addicts.

'Cuz brother, once that scent..
that sweet fucking scent of suffering mixes in with the carefree direction of the breeze ..

they find it..

Eventually..

Always.

To them .. that sweet scent of suffering under a mid-summer sun is like..

***** Grandma's apple-pie - and how the smell of it ALWAYS knew where to find you.. & once you were discovered.. how convincing it was in kidnapping you with

temptation.

Useless is the heroine once heroin-addicted..

So you my as well grab you's another slice of that pie..

while it's still warm.. *****

hope, for them, can only be brought 'bout by something sufferin' .. strugglin'..

Because they.. they know it WILL lead to death, undeniably.

& death leads to dinner.. every time.

and every time they feed
you'll see cowards.
you'll see crooks
Yet be jealous of Kings?

Indeed

Kings who are constantly convincing their own conscience that consistently craving carnivorous acts on the dead or unconscious, at a constant.. are not concerned that this may create any fucking consequence..

ain't it ironic that Nature.. - Brutal, Just, & Honest be out-witted by the goddamn scavenging of the sky wings..?!

they, the menacing

them, the hungry

& those, the heartless..

So if you happen to one day find yourself prepped & dead-ready..
Taking your bows .. after your final production ..the light begins to suffocate - and then dim..

S L O W L Y

As you close your eyes - As the Red Curtain Falls ... try not to aim your final gaze in the direction of the already apologetic horizon..

Cuz brother, once your stare helps carry the dead scent to her neck of the woods..

The sky .. is now guilty, Her shameful rain falls like tears slipping uncontrollably - the instant she knows a pair of soon-dead eyes be starin' her way..

The glare upon her is a burning salt ..

Pouring itself into the always open wound
-- of her guilt --
for being the vessel for the eventual vendetta of VULTURES

a cry from the heavens .. a heavily breathing horizon is a carrying wind - a trojan horse ..

& Yes, although the gentle arm of the breeze ..
so calming & cool as it reaches for you, whispering gently ..
as it vows to carry you safely
passed death's doorway..

SHE IS A FUCKING LIAR!

Because you'll soon find this serene outro - interrupted..

By the cryptic sound ...

silently approaching on the waves of the very same breeze that once whispered empty promises of sanctuary..

The Hungry Wings.. gliding on Dead Wind..
and boy have they got them a taste for you.

Hopefully you're dead by now.
Dead by now, nearly.. .. hopefully.
.. dust stirs as the vultures are surrounding you now --
Laughing with each other as they argue over who gets what..

SALIVATING

So Close your eyes..& Play Dead ..
Better yet, Best you Be Dead by this point
Or Be Dead Soon.. because ..

Nature is a flawed concept..

nurtured in a marinade of confidence & safety that will eventually be ripped apart ..
& feasted upon by the talon'd thieves.

Never Look Up..

Howdy partner,
It could be that you read "Tales of the Wild West" whilst sitting on the john and that would explain a lot. I have to admit that there was something compelling in the puzzle which this piece sets......but I had no success at all in getting the poetry. The vernacular has a paperback cowboy feel to it which isn't a problem except that it is comedic whilst I believe you are writing seriously.....or am I completely wrong? If so, then it is not my fault it us yours. Perhaps you could identify who say what by bold or italics...that would help.
Yes...it is a long effort but I honestly believe that self-indulgency can cause this.....from experience!
Overall, it does go on a bit....for no real reward. As there is no category which I can reasonably fit the piece in to I am loathe to criticise in this area. As there is no meter or rhythm which I can identify I am loathe to criticise in this area. As there is no attempt to create a rhyme scheme I am loathe to criticise in this area.
I guess I am neutral but would have to say that the piece is original......l, sadly, am not
Best,
tectak