Thread: Making Mazes (Mature, Language)

Well, here goes nothing with this structure... If you would like to see how it's ACTUALLY supposed to look, click here (no download or anything):

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1.../edit?hl=en_US

For those of you who don't wish to follow the link, I'll do my best with the code tags.

Code:

Making Mazes
                                             Drawing concepts on starched sheets,
                                             perpendicular angles for your maze.
                                             New men in every corner, drenched
                                             in adhesive. Scrape them if you want
                                             with your sandy, stippled tongue.                                                                                 
                                             Consistent turns,
                                             wet corner runs
                                             with the naked 
                                             out dribbling down other bumping bodies.
                                             Like all that charcoal sleeping on your eyes,
                                             every ninety degrees makes your hot fluids
                                             spread. Like wrecked windshields over limbs.
                                             You’re so divine on those finely filed men.
                                                                                           You love them.
                                                                                           You break them.
                                                                                           No consequence.
                                            There’s an observer with notes of your work.
                                            His face cast like a sky over every rectangular
                                            bend with his measuring stick in hand. Perfect.
                                            He presses you along with his forehead wrinkles.
                                            Formulas stored in between each one. How to be
                                            brilliant.
                                            How to have
                                            brilliant sex.
                                            All these walls, you took your time building up.
                                            They’re folding on top, codeine-soaked papers
                                            that curve your men into sleeping syrup balls.
                                            Swallow them to coat your raw, blown throat.
                                            Cough them into your hands. Throw them down.
                                                                                         Make a fogged maze,
                                                                                         an intentional haze,
                                                                                         to keep perfect turns.
                                            As you slide up replacement walls, two men stare.
                                            Waiting for the corner, for you to glue them down.
                                            The observer nods. You oil your hands. Dripping.
                                            One mist-mirrored motion—the paper on your back.
                                            Men breaking your bones, painting your cheeks black.

                                            Burns inside you.
                                                   Carved names in
                                                             your wide spread legs.

                                           Animals taking you, spitting speeches in your ears.
                                    You’re a breakable bitch. Let’s take a look inside. And we’ll all see why.
                                           More carving, fingerpainting, fingerprinting. 
                                    And that man who’s watching you has a gun to your head.
                                      Every corner is curling up like your body.

                                                                       Broken walls. Broken laws.

                                                                    No one is watching

                                                        because you’re no artist.

Stunning. I'll read this again. Strong voice, and very readable. The format of the piece blends in well with the words and phrases. Seems to seam naturally with the flow of the expression. Well done.

jeff

Thank you for your reply. This is one that was difficult for me to write, and I really appreciate your kind words. I don't know if you used the link or not, but I hope it worked. (I'm not so awesome with computers. Haha.) Thanks again.

I wouldn't necessarily say the words are covering in this piece. I buried the meaning of this one in metaphor, but this is one that's been eating at me for a while.

Don't want to lift the veil, but I will say, though, that the "artist" aspect of this poem is metaphorical. Basically, this poem has nothing to do with writing, but could easily be taken that way.

Yeah. I guess we both are saying the same thing. I didn't mean "to cover" on plain grounds. I've my own interpretation to this piece but I don't think it's appropriate to say it here. I'm also curious to see where this ends.

Your poetry is all so powerful because the personal nature of what you speak of comes out so strongly.

I couldn't get the google doc to work, but the formatting you have on the site here works fine, I think. It moves with the images. And speaking of the images, very vivid and strong. I think your running metaphors work well. Your rhyming also flows nicely.

My one suggestion - cut it in half. See what happens. I'd like to read this as a short poem. It might make for a powerful effect.

well, i have to get to work this morning, but i'll be back to share some thoughts. very impressive.

hi bay, this is stunning work. i love concrete poetry, too bad the regular forum format won't alow you to post it a concrete format. oh well i guess.

you're certainly not shy with your visuals, that's a good thing, and you make some great word combinations. i like like how this seems to drift between real and surreal, gives my mind lots to chew on. i don't think you need to change much, but i do have a few suggestions.

out dribbling down other bumping bodies. - i think you could cut the word "out", not really needed and i think the line would flow better.

Make a fogged maze,
an intentional haze, - not really liking the rhyme, maybe some rephrasing could break that up

to keep perfect turns. - cut the word "to"

As you slide up replacement walls, two men stare.
Waiting for the corner, for you to glue them down.
The observer nods. You oil your hands. Dripping.
One mist-mirrored motion—the paper on your back.
Men breaking your bones, painting your cheeks black. - this last line here is awesome, but i think this part of the poem could use some more developement. the visuals aren't as strong, and i feel maybe there is too much exposition, too much stage direction. just my thoughts

Burns inside you.
Carved names in
your wide spread legs. - i think maybe you could re-order these lines, maybe something like:

carved names
burned inside
your spead legs - something like this, with your broken lines, would carry the flow better... maybe, up to you.

No one is watching
because you’re no artist. - wow, that last line, what a powerful statement. the only problem i see is with the line above it, it's in contradiction with the rest of the poem, all of the "men" in the poem seem to be watching, and of course the observer. not sure what i would recommend, but the line throws me off.

overall i would say this mesh between the format and the subject matter really works. a dark experience for sure, but a pleasure to read. hope this is helpful.

wood

SG: Thank you for commenting on this. As far as cutting it down, I don't think that would work for this piece. At least not for me. But thank you for your honesty.

Wood: A very good critique. I agree completely about that stanza and all the exposition. I knew when I posted it that I was going to end up editing it later. The problem with that was that it was the one part of the poem I didn't want to write, but it was key. So I basically ended up just rushing through it. The word "out", however, in that line you mentioned, goes with the above line, which should be "with the naked out." Problem is, the structure didn't allow me to include it in that line. And if I took it out of the other line it would, again, screw up the structure. Plus, I like the internal rhyme and the rhythm works in my head, but I may be reading it differently.

The line "no one is watching" is meant to contradict because it's a specific moment where you sort of realize that the observer isn't observing. He's the one creating. And these men don't care about you. They are not your creations. They are not beautiful. They're animals.

It's a lot to explain.