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Critical Analysis #2
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18
Junior Member
since 2007-03-28
Posts 25


0 posted 2007-04-11 01:24 AM



18 and High

He don’t come home anymore
Impaired by more than the drugs he’s on
Sure of where he’ll go; far from All-American, somewhere in a song, or close to a hole
Its all his own and done
Connection gone with closing doors
Roots have grown to be torn from a place called home
Selfishly you snatch at dirt and unearth to displace you from your own
Fist orphaned of a worldly conception hit the sky looking for more
Slipped between a tight fingers grip horrified he dropped a dream
Now he’s a dreams deception shy
Fallen feet fell in step on to broken floors looking to fly
A crypt kept remembrance of a man that didn’t die
Blind and unspoken yet relentless he slept in his eyes
Your head harbors judgments of mothers and fathers in constant despise of what you are no longer
He’s spent long nights listening leaving him restless  
Gasping for meaning left him breathless
He’s now on the run
Regret the ghost he has become even more so that he was a son
All that meant was abandonment
A father had a son he didn’t want
Written on pages so to be read like paper cuts to flaunt was a love never got
Bleeding heart plea that a mother stopped caring
Thoughts that live between dusk and dawn chase the days denying the sun
So this is the life he chose, of broken bottles and buddies
Sorrows rolled in a cigarette smolder to ash and fill the tray of aftermath in which you’re living in
Smoking impotence, breathing in deep and exhale with the grievance of a so called death as if the boy of whom you speak is past tense in lyrics
He sits ready to spill his guilt and guts
Never sang enough
He never had enough
Waiting for somebody to listen
Mistrust twists tongue to say wicked wrongs
Conscience hastens upon a song lush taste of disgust  
He strums pity in strings delicate touch
He sings that he’s been forgot
18 and high the world was not but had an eye to help destruct
Life he wants denied so swore to drown in this denial
Teen angst brought pieces of his world down
Now nothing of the child he’s been
Magnificent he was filled with dreams
Body he was born with
Wrote poems and sonnets with colors of sunbeams
Skin naked posed upon this planet as though canvas for purity
Stained by reality
He played a destiny to be great
Notes over played told a fate wrote in smoke
Closed the pain now seeing engraves written in stone
Home comes slow in what he sings
And he sang
“This is my soul
Singing it all through the heart beat touched
Rhythm pushed blood into my veins and lungs
So I could breathe and take in breathe
Exhaled to sing and God let me sing this
Cuz I been lost”
Synonyms for regret and sorrow continue in friends
Harlots for depression and so are now depressed
Fingers placed upon frets felt what they meant
Loves reprise lift wet red clouds from blood shot eyes
Conscience choked red skies now clear to white
Down the neck he strokes a joy for life
Renewed chest rose with passion and fell in exertion
A boy found purpose in hearts he’s broken
A meaning for a first to virgin words carried on stuttered verses
Shrouds of dry worthlessness pulled down in curtains
Melted walls collapsed and crumbled
Before devils steps forth a man from puddles of helter skelter
Cut the rope severed from around your soul
Untold restore that boy never felt there or here or anywhere

© Copyright 2007 18 - All Rights Reserved
TyroStar
Junior Member
since 2007-01-31
Posts 38

1 posted 2007-04-11 05:45 PM


"He don’t come home anymore"
This first line made me not want to read any further. He doesn't would be the correct wording here. To see this as the first line of a poem immediately makes me think the writer is uneducated. Which obviously takes away my interest, especially in such a long piece. Also, separating this into stanzas would help make this easier, and more enjoyable to read. Oh, and the title also made me not want to even open it.

18
Junior Member
since 2007-03-28
Posts 25

2 posted 2007-04-12 12:20 PM


18 and high is the mind state of this boy ok and poetry can be whatever the writer makes it. stanzas are useful ill revise and fix k thaNKS
Brad
Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705
Jejudo, South Korea
3 posted 2007-04-12 02:17 AM


True, the writer can do whatever he or she wants, but the reader can like or dislike, read or not read as they so choose.

You attempt a voice of a 'high' 18 year old but you write it in the third person?

TyroStar
Junior Member
since 2007-01-31
Posts 38

4 posted 2007-04-12 04:51 AM


I did read the whole thing, actually. Just so it's known i'm not critiquing without any basis. Sure, poetry is what the writer wishes, but if you don't want critiques on your work, perhaps you shouldn't be posting in Critical Analysis? The point of this board is to post, accept criticism, and try to make your work better.
18
Junior Member
since 2007-03-28
Posts 25

5 posted 2007-04-14 06:32 PM


oh i want criticism but im going to have a response to it. i dchanged some stuff and on thursday night i won a poetry slam with this one whatev. i wrote it in this style to give it more feeling when i recited it
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