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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Contemplation Riotdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Agent V.
    ASL Info:    23/girl/small town
    Elite Ratio:    7.23 - 38/29/24
    Words: 156
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 838
    Average Vote:    3.0000
    Bytes: 1154



    Description:
       Another old piece that wants the dust shined away into something awe inspiring.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsContemplation Riotdots
    -------------------------------------------


    What a life it must be
    to feign yourself over your writing
    pouring everything you ever were
    into notebooks and loose leaf pages
    and printed computer documents,
    only to disappear from this life
    never knowing if what you did
    was acceptable; worthy of the effort
    of ever drawing a breath.

    But no complaints here, just an
    observation that needed to be stated.

    Always the procrastinator, the perfectionist
    who can never get her thoughts together
    and it shows
    like the failing adhesive of a conversation
    that never should have started
    how unbelievably uncomfortable
    an ounce of blank paper seems
    as it limits the opportunity
    to acquire inspiration into
    competent self worth and dignity.

    Thoughts sell faster than promiscuity,
    never given the proper chance to contemplate.

    If forced to contain yourself,
    it feels like you’re gradually falling
    where every sound is separate
    and fresh air is as hysterical as
    a temporary relief to depression.




    Submitted on 2007-05-11 17:29:21     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I liked this, it has a great point to get across, the only question I have is that the first verse seems like your speaking about someone else almost as if you are envying them, but the rest of the poem seems as if your describing yourself.
    I don't know, I could be misunderstanding the direction that you were going,
    But that aside I really enjoyed it,
    Thanks,
    Spin
    | Posted on 2007-09-19 00:00:00 | by Spin | [ Reply to This ]
      I enjoyed this piece, and just posted one that may be complimentary to it. "Hey, who are you?"

    Now, I must bring to the table the concept of psychology relating to your piece. Value is never absolute, in fact, you may easily guess it's relative to the person. Therefore, value attributed to one thing by one person doesn't adhere, or at least shouldn't, to the value that other attribute it, because that person is in his own unique. In that sense lies the beauty of real poetry, and for the loss of this beauty one must simply seek acceptance. How do we observe this fact? We compromise... We can't totally be rejects and go against the entire current; it's noble but excessively stupid, and in this modern day, nobody is gutsy enough to really do it. We are to unified to stand alone, that type of thing. But ignoring the fact that this was all obvious, I'm hoping your first stanza was sarcastic.... Because searching for an answer like that is as meaningless as searching for God in an antinucleon... At least speaking on the same level as God.. The question remains... When a writer writes a book, a story, he has a plan, but by the end of his story he finds himself guided by his story, not guiding his story... So for those impulsive poets out there... Once written, does the meaning nestle itself in the sublime twilight of our subconsciousness or do we really know it? Do we really understand it? Have we given our poetry meaning, or has it given us meaning? Pathetic when you think about it... Thoughts may sell quicker than promiscuity only because they last longer than false love. Ideas will always be carried on by humanity; humanity is basically a mound of sand built with grains that are each an idea. But I'm guessing here you're aiming for "impulsive" ... I also suggest "It'd" in the last strophe second verse because you began with an If. Choking on your own air, saturating your cells to the point of gastric ebullition, turgescent explosions of self-appropriated meaning.

    I'll shut up... I like this though.

    Outy
    | Posted on 2007-05-12 00:00:00 | by Outlaw | [ Reply to This ]


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