Time of our Lives

[tectak]

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.
Belief made grief the penalty and no man's land
the prize; there are no losers. Death is paradise
by promise, or heaven is not real. Where lies the
greater difference? We die to live again or
we die to live no more. We choose our road
to nowhere yet we cry when we are lost.
The body that protects our cranial delusions
is the flesh, the bones, the blood and bile,
the sweat, the piss and brine leaked tears
of sainted souls; but not by high reward. The sinners,
thieves and sodomists, the sanguine slaughterers of State,
the creeping killers in the night, and all the foment
of the failed who kick and strike with knife to heart and lung;
they build themselves with those same mortal blocks.
A flag high held and raised on calcium shanks is just a flag.
The colours change, but they are all the same.
What differs then, in this short term, when by our nature,
we permit kings and gods to make false claims to reverence?
There is no we, for in the end our bruised and battered body lies alone.
We took no sides, we did not have such will; we only thought we cared.
We all are one; except there is a battle all must fight to lose;
Death is one world, and life the other. We all fall in between.
tectak
2013

[billy]

i've read and re read and read again and i think it could vastly improve with a different set of enjambment. some of the punctuation scratches hairy balls but i'm not able to point it all out so i won't

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse of failed intentions
lies between two worlds. Belief made grief the penalty
and no man's land the prize; there are no losers.
Death is paradise..................................

i'm not saying do it this way, just showing one option, there are a few. so i'll give feedback on the other stuff in the body.
near the end the poem becomes very shakespearean (which i enjoyed) the questions posed worked well. some of it verges on cliche but i never saw anything as a real problem that needed smashing away in general i'd have to say the main problem is the enjambment, i think it makes the poem heavy the way it is. ( and yeah, death is heavy )

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.
Belief made grief the penalty and no man's land
the prize; there are no losers. Death is paradise
by promise, or heaven is not real. Where lies the
greater difference? We die to live again or this and the next 2 lines are a bit wordy
we die to live no more. We choose our road
to nowhere yet we cry when we are lost.
The body that protects our cranial delusions
is the flesh, the bones, the blood and bile, nice b's
the sweat, the piss and brine leaked tears
of sainted souls; but not by high reward. The sinners,
thieves and sodomists, the sanguine slaughterers of State, sodomists or sodomites?
the creeping killers in the night, and all the foment
of the failed who kick and strike with knife to heart and lung; needs some puntuation
they build themselves with those same mortal blocks.
A flag high held and raised on calcium shanks is just a flag.
The colours change, but they are all the same.
What differs then, in this short term, when by our nature,
we permit kings and gods to make false claims to reverence?
There is no we, for in the end our bruised and battered body lies alone.
We took no sides, we did not have such will; we only thought we cared.
We all are one; except there is a battle all must fight to lose;
Death is one world, and life the other. We all fall in between.
tectak
2013

[NakedBear]

You're lines are very nice to my ear and I have few comments about your mechanics, but it took a few readings before I formed a clear idea of what I think is being said. Roughly, the bodies of good and bad people are the same, and at the end are cast off and removed from the world of the living while not going into the world of the dead. You put forward that either there is something in the world of death, or nothing, and see little difference. Besides, what happens after death is presented as unknown, and maybe unknowable?

Yet by referring to 'sainted souls' and the world of death, you suggest a bias on the part of speaker toward an afterlife. Is that intentional?

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.
Belief made grief the penalty and no man's land the meaning of no man's land is obscure to me. Maybe it represents fear?
the prize; there are no losers. Death is paradise
by promise, or heaven is not real. Where lies the
greater difference? We die to live again or or maybe there is an afterlife, but its always miserable. Could this be a false dilemma? Probably it doesn't matter.
we die to live no more. We choose our road
to nowhere yet we cry when we are lost.
The body that protects our cranial delusions
is the flesh, the bones, the blood and bile,
the sweat, the piss and brine leaked tears
of sainted souls; but not by high reward. I have trouble connecting 'but not by...' to the sentence before it, although the preceding sentence is enjoyable to meThe sinners,
thieves and sodomists, the sanguine slaughterers of State,
the creeping killers in the night, and all the foment
of the failed who kick and strike with knife to heart and lung;
they build themselves with those same mortal blocks.
A flag high held and raised on calcium shanks is just a flag.
The colours change, but they are all the same. They're all the same because they all die?
What differs then, in this short term, when by our nature,
we permit kings and gods to make false claims to reverence?
There is no we, for in the end our bruised and battered body lies alone.
We took no sides, we did not have such will; we only thought we cared.
We all are one; except there is a battle all must fight to lose; thought provoking lines. Are the sides referring to being good and bad, or holding that death leads to life or that death leads to extinction?
Death is one world, and life the other. We all fall in between. calling death a world suggests to me a bias on part of speaker.
tectak
2013

I enjoyed this for the sound of it when read aloud, descriptions of human nature, and it's attempt to relegate concern for the afterlife to the pile of irrelevancies. There are places that I find it hard to understand your meaning, although I will admit to being a bit of a dull knife. Haha.

Anyway, that's all I've got.

Mikey.

[milo]

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.

Ok, you deserve much more than I am going to give right now but I feel a need to convey my problem here.
The first line is brilliant - visceral, crisp, metric. Then you throw the whole thing with your "of failed intentions"

abstraction.
why?

milo

[tectak]

i've read and re read and read again and i think it could vastly improve with a different set of enjambment. some of the punctuation scratches hairy balls but i'm not able to point it all out so i won't

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse of failed intentions
lies between two worlds. Belief made grief the penalty
and no man's land the prize; there are no losers.
Death is paradise..................................

i'm not saying do it this way, just showing one option, there are a few. so i'll give feedback on the other stuff in the body.
near the end the poem becomes very shakespearean (which i enjoyed) the questions posed worked well. some of it verges on cliche but i never saw anything as a real problem that needed smashing away in general i'd have to say the main problem is the enjambment, i think it makes the poem heavy the way it is. ( and yeah, death is heavy )

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.
Belief made grief the penalty and no man's land
the prize; there are no losers. Death is paradise
by promise, or heaven is not real. Where lies the
greater difference? We die to live again or this and the next 2 lines are a bit wordy
we die to live no more. We choose our road
to nowhere yet we cry when we are lost.
The body that protects our cranial delusions
is the flesh, the bones, the blood and bile, nice b's
the sweat, the piss and brine leaked tears
of sainted souls; but not by high reward. The sinners,
thieves and sodomists, the sanguine slaughterers of State, sodomists or sodomites?
the creeping killers in the night, and all the foment
of the failed who kick and strike with knife to heart and lung; needs some puntuation
they build themselves with those same mortal blocks.
A flag high held and raised on calcium shanks is just a flag.
The colours change, but they are all the same.
What differs then, in this short term, when by our nature,
we permit kings and gods to make false claims to reverence?
There is no we, for in the end our bruised and battered body lies alone.
We took no sides, we did not have such will; we only thought we cared.
We all are one; except there is a battle all must fight to lose;
Death is one world, and life the other. We all fall in between.
tectak
2013

Hi billy,
glad you are back. Yes to all your points.I wrote this on-line as an experiment. Very unusual for me. I want to workshop it all the way. Inspiration? Well, I am ashamed to say it was the anti-christ response to another contributor....though I have been fermenting the idea of reality being an in between state for some time.
I will do a large off line edit and stick it up again....hopefully it will become increasingly but equally offensive to both sides of the theological divide....if you believe there is such a thing!
Enjambment in this is lazy...like all who stick stuff up with line breaks to make poetic alphabet soup. I will slowly improve it but this soup takes a long simmer...should be getting there by easter, whatever that is.
Will be offline for a couple of weeks after this weekend...on my travels again.
Milo is in charge!
Best,
tectak

---

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.

Ok, you deserve much more than I am going to give right now but I feel a need to convey my problem here.
The first line is brilliant - visceral, crisp, metric. Then you throw the whole thing with your "of failed intentions"

abstraction.
why?

milo

Hi milo,
See response to billy. Yes to your point on the abstract "failed intentions". I need to clarify. Thankfully, I know what I am trying to say...but said it badly. That is very different to not knowing what, but wanting to badly...my usual state
I feel a thorough thrashing coming on.
Best,
tectak

---

You're lines are very nice to my ear and I have few comments about your mechanics, but it took a few readings before I formed a clear idea of what I think is being said. Roughly, the bodies of good and bad people are the same, and at the end are cast off and removed from the world of the living while not going into the world of the dead. You put forward that either there is something in the world of death, or nothing, and see little difference. Besides, what happens after death is presented as unknown, and maybe unknowable?

Yet by referring to 'sainted souls' and the world of death, you suggest a bias on the part of speaker toward an afterlife. Is that intentional?

Bruised blue and broken veined, the corpse
of failed intentions lies between two worlds.
Belief made grief the penalty and no man's land the meaning of no man's land is obscure to me. Maybe it represents fear?
the prize; there are no losers. Death is paradise
by promise, or heaven is not real. Where lies the
greater difference? We die to live again or or maybe there is an afterlife, but its always miserable. Could this be a false dilemma? Probably it doesn't matter.
we die to live no more. We choose our road
to nowhere yet we cry when we are lost.
The body that protects our cranial delusions
is the flesh, the bones, the blood and bile,
the sweat, the piss and brine leaked tears
of sainted souls; but not by high reward. I have trouble connecting 'but not by...' to the sentence before it, although the preceding sentence is enjoyable to meThe sinners,
thieves and sodomists, the sanguine slaughterers of State,
the creeping killers in the night, and all the foment
of the failed who kick and strike with knife to heart and lung;
they build themselves with those same mortal blocks.
A flag high held and raised on calcium shanks is just a flag.
The colours change, but they are all the same. They're all the same because they all die?
What differs then, in this short term, when by our nature,
we permit kings and gods to make false claims to reverence?
There is no we, for in the end our bruised and battered body lies alone.
We took no sides, we did not have such will; we only thought we cared.
We all are one; except there is a battle all must fight to lose; thought provoking lines. Are the sides referring to being good and bad, or holding that death leads to life or that death leads to extinction?
Death is one world, and life the other. We all fall in between. calling death a world suggests to me a bias on part of speaker.
tectak
2013

I enjoyed this for the sound of it when read aloud, descriptions of human nature, and it's attempt to relegate concern for the afterlife to the pile of irrelevancies. There are places that I find it hard to understand your meaning, although I will admit to being a bit of a dull knife. Haha.

Anyway, that's all I've got.

Mikey.

Thanks for a perceptive take on this Mikey.
I have an overblown sense of the importance of the concept in this.It is that we live "in between", by any philosophical observation. Never wholly alive or dead. Never entirely in bliss or blight. Never in one camp or the other...constantly between two greener fields. It will take some work.
Hope you comment again.
Best,
tectak

[softlyfalling]

I want to respond before I read the previous comments, knowing that i will succumb to insecurity about my thought in the wake of those words...
Every image seems to flash a brief light on the those darknesses between columns of light of consciousness. I know these interims. I lived in those shadows most of my life. Thank you for the candle.
I am fending off the jaded consequence of absorbing your intent. Although I love those lacunae of time...twilight, dusk, midnight, ides...the void between worlds is too frightening. The vacuum of uncertainty won't let me breathe in there.
But, I don't want you to change one word. Why risk undermining such impact with over-thinking?

[tectak]

I want to respond before I read the previous comments, knowing that i will succumb to insecurity about my thought in the wake of those words...
Every image seems to flash a brief light on the those darknesses between columns of light of consciousness. I know these interims. I lived in those shadows most of my life. Thank you for the candle.
I am fending off the jaded consequence of absorbing your intent. Although I love those lacunae of time...twilight, dusk, midnight, ides...the void between worlds is too frightening. The vacuum of uncertainty won't let me breathe in there.
But, I don't want you to change one word. Why risk undermining such impact with over-thinking?

Thanks softly,
You find pragmatism a difficult state to be in. I know that it is an advantage to have deep thoughts always on the surface because I do not. I am of the long held belief that too much analysis causes paralysis and so am relatively soul-less in my approach to poetry. You, on the other hand, have an impertinent muse, who lives free board within you. I do, therefore, steal your verbose and honest comments...you may not believe that, because that is symptomatic, but it is true, nonetheless. I appreciate your candour. Thanks.
Best,
tectak