Heart of A Poet, Mind of Roadkill (with talent to match)
The first sale I ever made was a poem for the anthology DEATH IN COMMON. While the antho is no longer in print, my poem is available in my sampler DETRITUS. It was probably the hardest I’d ever worked on anything in my life. There were probably 20 drafts and half as many versions. The editor (and a friend) Rich Ristow was incredibly helpful and patient, making my contribution FORGOTTEN SON something I take much pride in.
Nikita also wrote a poem. While it’s not as bad as some other work I’ve reviewed…oh who am I kidding, it’s shit. The piss poor writing aside, it also details his feelings about 9/11. As the anniversary draws closer, I thought it appropriate to critique: THE SEASONS OF BLACK SEPTEMBER. A big thank you to Lewis for pointing this out to me.
Note: All misspellings and double commas (!) are from Nicky.
Prologe: Reminders of Forever
no more
one more
emptiness
that I cannot ever tell,,
no more
one more
No more, yes! One more? Dammit. For someone who frequently uses expressions like I cannot ever tell, you never seem to stop babbling.
no more
one more
one more horror in the sleep
no more
one more
Patterns I am sensing. Talent, I am not.
years to come – cemetery graves,
As opposed to say, the bakery graves.
I watch the towers fall
I watch the many die
no more, one more
one more mourning
I’m going to guess he had a rainman like obsession with one more. Nothing wrong with repetition if it serves a point. If it’s the only words you know however…
I. Clay and Dust
I am one — yet no one,
Can’t argue with that.
when angels cry their blood,,
only then we begin — crucified,,
impaled by our thoughts — slaved,
lead into salvations — enslaved,,
I’m not sure he knows the difference between crucifixion and impalement. I’d settle for either rather than have him go on. And yet he does, trooper of turds that he is.
dying — this is my suffication,
horror — flames melting my flesh,,
decay — blackness of hell around me,,,
Not sure what suffication is, but it can’t be any worse than an eternity of having this read to me over and over.
melting flesh — flowing blood, clay and dust,,
full blood moon — raising brighter in black,,
Melting brain overflowing with illiterate scibblings. full stomach about to raise and splatter.
II. Ashes and Blood Flow
when we allow all the blood flow,,
the question without the reason,,
Blood flows, that’s what blood does (along with other amazing things but I won’t bore you with my lack of scientific tidbits), but what is with these double and triple commas? No doubt he’ll have some excuse though it still boils down to lack of knowledge of and talent.
death in the end is only the beginning,,
take the tour of hell my friend — here it is
Could have told me that in the beginning and saved me from reading this. Fucker.
III. Untold Omen
dying tomorrows, lost my sorrow,,
of what hope is sinking forever,,
My hope of you making sense sank long ago. I know the feeling.
where our truth turned into the lie,,
Or in your case where the lie turned into a greater lie.
IV. Seasons of Rust
as it comes where I walk alone,
I could say something really disgusting about this, but then I’d never sleep again. Suffice to say everything he does is alone.
fires — were we have no more control,,,
time — as it ticks slowly down into night,,,
horrors — as they cannot be defined,,,
Crap, we’re back to the undefined again. Though if a word could ever describe this work, undefined is as good as any.
V. Stygian Skies
do we see inside our own demise
gathering in the travels to stygian
Umm, yeah, I got nothing for this bit of nonsense.
as it remains the memories of the day of Black September,,,
The best I can suggest is remember those who lost their lives, but forget this turgid, incomprehensible, waste of time. It does far more of a disservice than anything else in recent memory.
