Kitten's Litter

Personally, I HATE certainty! ..It completely flies in the face of evolution, which is what we are all subject to at all times of every day... Only human beings could be so arrogant as to force 'order' in a universe that thrives on chaos!
KittenX, I find your poetry a perfect reflection of you, and it all makes sense to me!

 

Stickystuff, the world is a paradigm of order. And chaos burps when it can into people's lives. Evolution? Now that's a primordial thing. It lives a wholly different life than we do. Tucked deep within the recesses of our skin and bones. Poetry has the power to transform even when it's talking about the simplest things and to do that you need control. Some struggle towards certainty.

 

Luck & Diplomacy is fantastic! "who do I shell to smithereens" I love that... aggressive, sarcastic, with a nice tint of apathy tangled about, but strong at the end. I really enjoyed this one, so thank ya!

ah, yeah!

~~~
Regarding "Upgrade"... I agree with you that too much detail, usually, doesn't work; it's more like reading a book than a poem. There's a fine line, though, where you can get so specific about something and still have people connect to it. I agree with kidder that this one could use just a little tightening up, a tad more tangibility, if ya follow? All in all, great work from ya... and I look forward to more!

 

Then again in this case -certainty- is subjective. What is certain to you may or may not be certain to me. Also poetry can be abstract or purely atmospheric, where it heavily relies on the overall mood rather on the concrete images/statements/lines or even ideas.
And in most cases the "great poems" that I've read indeed lacked clear cut boundaries and certainty, as a reader -I- had to analyze their depth and make my own conclusions. So does that make the poem more inadequate if I had to think a little harder, and try to connect what I've read to my own experiences, does it make the poem "not great" because the relatedness was not obvious or maybe not even there at all? Well it's all a matter of opinion and your personal lens than anything else.

 

Separation seems to bring us closer, though
Anxiety stunts my growth, and I am
Moribund from fear, every time I check your pulse.

 

Upgrade renamed to Assimilation. Also revised it all to hell.

 

I am ashamed
of my bolted gut,
and lukewarm blood.

Why am I impassive?
Am I accustomed to your
absence?

I’m egotistic, need your spotlight,
need new incentives, warranty,
and vulgar belonging.

Instead of staring at newscasts,
instead of bawling at the ceiling,
instead of picking up faint cues,
roots of insomnia and
each morning reeling.

 

Allegiance to the greenbacks
is a necessary ingredient.

Oblivion is popular
with its’ sedative taste.

Hard boiled promises are good
as appetizers.

While murder is served cold for the main course.

Washed down with a pint
of hogwash doctrine,
and distilled beliefs.

Baked fibs make for a sweet desert.

Enjoy your meal America!

 

you've gotten so political over the last 2 months kittenx.. has georges coronation gotten to you?

 

nice work on -assimilation-; I still get caught up in the "my stomach growled" stanza, but I like what you've done with it!

-void- I really liked this one... it's stormy and raw, as well as a complete progression you've captured.

this was definitely the hightlight, the repetition builds it up, and you close it off at that height in wonderful execution.

thanks for sharing these!

 

Probing stanzas, ripe with emotion and self definition. I feel you.

 

Clutching carpet,
before it drifts into Atlantic.

Eye enamel crumbles,
glaze trickles from the chin.

My tongue curls, licks my
oxidizing skin.

Sober slouching,
I’m timid and cockeyed.

On a buoyant cloud,
with you not by my side.

 

Forlorn longings and chromatic crumbles,
Magical oceanic carpets and curling tongue.
I enjoyed the dissolving colorful sadness throughout.

 

Maimed buildings smell of
rodent fear.

A shrapnel found peace under
my wing.
Obstructed neural pathways,
I'm disconnected.

I scratch the air
of my phantom limb.

Pray, smokescreen will protect me,
for awhile.

Hold the breath,
so wind direction does not change.

I know,
I am just a dummy,
I am just a log for fire,
combat roadkill or an official tally.

 

Nice work! For some reason this makes me think of ghost planes, although I don't really know why. I'm not particularly fond of the "now I'm disconnected" line, and think it would work better without it. Other than that, marvelous! A bit gloomy, but gloom is beautiful (isn't that someone's screen name?) when presented correctly, and you typically present correctly, this being no exception. Your ending, as usual, is quite powerful:

 

Topple, topple autumn.
At a later hour,
I may hatch up a coup.

Aspens combust,
I stuff the lungs with dust.
It’s called security.

I hate galoshes,
but foreign climate
does not attract at all.

And boys in drab uniforms
strut their toys.
Maybe I should spray them
with puddles,
soak them in humility.

But tirades never bring up
sympathy.
So I just let them smoke,
in a brotherly ring.

I swear, this ornery season
needs to expire already,
capitulate before it’s far too late.

Because nobody likes to witness,
shredded families,
and little people face down
in the desert sand.

 

I’m a misguided missile,
I splatter.
Color you in
with the background.
Fickle!
You don’t appreciate
my talent
or even your own life
for that matter.

 

"Quickie" would suffice.

eMBeMLaHV!

 

hi there
this is great

what higher moment to know in ourselves
we all can be betrayed from within
our own little worlds amonst the worlds
in our universe....................

love n peace from saff.....

 

that's what I call a good close! -afterimage- moves quite well, kittenx; you use great wordplay, and change focus from personal to a broadened larger scope very effectively.

I like "quickee" as a title, although something "splatter" seems appropriate as well...