I really enjoyed reading this write..
even though you do not define 'it' anywhere, everyone can take a guess of what broad content the word has.
I decided to read this write because of your title, very clever, a good title, as you know of course, is important.
very interesting take on the contest. [or at least i think it was a contest or something which gave you the line]. I have no idea how I would have used that line, but I know yours is very interesting.
I like the metaphors and such you use, and your play on word with 'true the lies', clever.
I would like to hear though, what exactly does the other 90 percent of the iceberg stand for?? the mind's subconscious? solitude? please tell me.
I really enjoyed the first stanza of this. First, the concept--that even though logic can fix things perfectly and evenly, but then something illogical like hope can come around the corner and blow logic out of the water. I also liked the fact that you used the word "prostituted"...it really symbolized the vulgarity of choosing hope over logic.
I think the title goes really well with the poem--all of the lines in between with the ... and ? punctuate the stanzas with little bursts of cynicism.
This is excellent,I'm gonna give my thoughts on the whole piece but I really enjoyed "the other 90 per cent of the ice-berg",I know it was the title you were given but the way you used it was brilliant...Ill explain.
logic cannot be applied
like a salve
to broken wounds
I get this part fine,no matter how well you think about things logically,it will not just make things better(at least I don't think so),personally I always thought that God being explained away by science would leave us very unhappy,but seeing as how it hasn't been done I don't know.
I like also how you describe words of hope as vulgar,and in actual fact your absolutely write,its much more easy to be morbid etc,to be angry,moody or generally hopeless,its hard to have real hope(I think so anyway)
waiting for dreams to come
true the lies
break the beautiful cynicism
of emptiness
[the other 90% of the iceberg]
This is the most vague part so its harder to be concrete in an explanation,but preceding it with the line "when was it okay" helps.
Were you say "when was it okay" to not feel empty,why don't we all just feel like that.Also,emptiness itself is the part we cannot understand,but have to deal with by lying to ourselves,it could also(with the ice-berg analogy) be the other 90 per cent of the brain humans have not yet been able to use,so far...
So I loved that part,however hard it is for me to decipher adequately.
preaching clichés
much to the disappointment of God
it was never okay...
this sums u/rounds off the poem in an effective way,by answering your recurring question.
All in all this is a fave for me,I also cant nit-pick very well,like I would if I could but honestly,theres nothing I can say about this to make it better or to help it sound better(so that may seem like I'm blowing smoke up your arse) but how well ever,I enjoyed the piece a lot.
i like that you're not really specific about describing the details of the situation only the feelings. you leave a lot of room for interpritation. a lot of room for the reader to put themselves in your place. not to sound like a highschool student, but your diction is quite interesting. it fits cynacism. the words are just cynical words maybe not alone but together that's just what they imply.
every smile sells a story
every tear buys two
that's cynacism to the core if i ever heard it.
~ncik(yes, i spelled my name wrong on purpose)
hullo, just another one of my random popping up on your posts.
the title really caught my eye, as ive been feeling a bit cynical lately...
ok all the time.
hard to believe but its true. as a true cynic, this piece struck me like a dull blow to a numb limb. coming from one as cynical as i, that is actually a compliment. really. i do like this. you could switch around the words in the title so it would really apply to me. lol
the emptiness of cynicism. hurrah.
yes, there are some broad strokes here, yes it may seem too generic and maybe a little cliché, but i bet thats what this piece is all about and where it gets its strength from. i dunno. but a good read nonethelesss.
logic cannot be applied like a salve to broken wounds [yet again i find myself prostituted to vulgar words of hope...]
when was it okay...?
every smile sells a story every tear buys two
tell me... when was it okay...?
waiting for dreams to come true the lies break the beautiful cynicism of emptiness [the other 90% of the iceberg]
really... when was it ok...?
preaching clichés much to the disappointment of God
it was never okay...
Something about this post is oddly refreshing; perhaps it's the angst-free approach to misery that simply accepts the imperfections of life and makes every effort to forge a better existence in the midst of the chaos. We do occassionally tell ourselves beautiful lies to avoid touching the wound, bout the truth of the matter is a little agony now might save us from much, much more later on. This may be the intent of your post or I may be sleepy or senile (or both), but in any case this is profoundly well written.
I just wanted to drop by and say that I really liked the title for this one. when I read your description and how you were given a line and turned it into this is amazing. This piece made me go read a bunch of your other work and I do have to say that You write beautifully. I also enjoy the lengths of each work I read was never too long, like my posts which tend to run on the excessive side. Reading your pieces made me want to post up some of my shorter works. Sorry bout this wierd erratic post. I know this is no real feedback and doesn't help. Everyone here knows I am no good at the art of being a critic.
One craves the broad strokes that apply to all that we see around us . . . another asks for a more detailed perspective. And where is the truth of the idea best found, in the nitty gritty details, or in the sweeps of a gull's wings . . . Poetry is asked to be all things to all people. Entertainment, substance, a message without guile or obfusication . . . all depending upon who you ask.
This particular poem isn't a tale of anyone else, (though it could apply, certainly, to any number of people who share this common awareness), it's a very personal take on something that simply is a fact of the world we live in. It's a mission statement, or seen another way, it says "I stand here, this is what I see . . . what do you see?"
Poetry isn't always about great storytelling or pretty little pictures painted with words. Ultimately it's about depth of experience, the movement inside us that sings of both personal truths and universal truths . . . and the best poems (I believe meld) those two things together in a chrysalis that not only demonstrates this attunement or harmony with the reality of its subject, but becomes a tuning fork ringing true in the hearts and minds of those who experience it . . . like an emergence.
When you read a poem you have to understand this, and consider it from the perspective of what it's trying to be, and how. You can't ask an orange to be a space shuttle. Nor should you. Accept the delight of an orange for what it is, peel back its outer skin and sink succulent into the experience it lends you. If you want to watch the space shuttle taking off from Cape Canaveral while you're eating that orange . . . hey, it's up to you.
That's the magic of the Word, and defining it can be as elusive as anything I can think of. There comes a time when you have to fall back on the message and say it outweighs the artistry one might improve upon.
Alot of poets can weave something pretty, but it takes real heart to write something that anyone will give a damn about and to say it without any ambiguity.
Do you remember that movie... that end of the world thing. I think it was uhm... the End of Days. It had one of those stories... good girl meets world... good girl meets satan... good girl get's destined to be raped by Satan... the church hears about the good girl... the church get's divided in two... half of the church wants the girl to be safe... half of the church wants the girl to die... and some hero comes in to rationalize the simplest commandment - THOU SHALL NOT KILL. Period. No matter how you justify it, it's still life and thou shall not kill. So... it will never COMPLETELY Ok.
OK... I know what you're thinking. What the [censored] are you talking about Angelo? Well... uhm... I'm not really sure why I said that. I guess I'm just trying to fatten my comment.
Well, I wouldn't really say that it is generic. But I have to say that there is a certain alienating force in it. Maybe it's because of the combination of simplicity and the great mass of the issue before you.
But you know what, I actually like that healthy sense of obscurity. It was like you were faced with something big and here you are in this desperate fight to master it. And the end effect is beautiful.
this poem is solid enough. particular highlights are "prostituted to the . . ."
"and evey tear buys two"
but here's my only pont: it needs to be have concrete details. it's too generic, it's not connected, it's not sharp.
if you told me the story of what two people do in seperate roms of the house afte they fight in the form of their physical actions, how they respond, how they cope, how they begin to apologize . . . that would be the other 90%. point is show a moment in life people don't see, that pause before knocking, etc, and show it.
please i hope i have not been too harsh, i fully believe in yoru talent, and do not dislike the poem, but i think there's a better poem to be written.
I know I am way off here, but the more I read this, the more it reminds me of our media circus here, where we are stucco'd with b.s. by cosmetically altered twits in Ally McBeal "power" miniskirts, yaddah-yaddah-yaddahing the latest propoganda into the blinking red eye of televised America... (maybe I've been watching too much CNN lately, huh?) Anyway, "every smile sells a story, every tear buys two" reminded me of the vulture-stylings of picking through "current events" to come up with a quilted rag of whatever crap they decide to sell today... Little Johnny's successful cancer treatment, or 14 dead soldiers children receiving a "flat daddy" cut-out in honor of his memory, so they don't forget their NOT [censored] children now, but the sons and daughters of Heroes... God, help all of us, this is just not the way we should be living!
this one is interesting. i like it. i like the whole "other 90% of the iceberg" thing.
have you ever read The Great Gatsby? i asked you once, but i don't remember if you have or not. we read it last year in my english class and one of the things we studied was the "iceberg principle" which is like where the characters in the story can only see like a third of what's happening...i think. the whole book is kinda based on that. i think that's right. lol. it's been a while since we studied it...
"every smile sells a story every tear buys two"
those are my favorite lines. seriously, awesome, right there. and it's so true. but that's a really cool way of putting it.
nice job on this one. i feel special i remembered the Great Gatsby thing. LOL. i don't feel like this is a useful comment...but oh well. hopefully i'll get better, haha. love ya.
Submission Name: the cynicism of emptiness
