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9/24/2006 c1 1JDWrites
I can't beat your ninja for length of the reviews but I can say some stuff...haha, I'm so used to my reviews being the longest...and I'm sad to say that your ninja may have more to actually say about the poem...

I like it, but it was too brief for me. I got the general idea but it seems somehow fleeting, as if you were rushed in writing it. Now I dunno about some people but to me rushed poems are like cooking pork too fast and making everyone at the table throw up...but yours wasn't that bad, this one was like running past a bed of roses. It smells sweet when you're there but when you're past, you've passed too soon. Nostalgic, that's what this is. Sorry, I'm thinking while I'm reviewing, it's a bad habit, I know. I should really break myself of it.

I do like the lines though, they're strategic and made me slow down...like I tripped when I was running or something.

Well...there is my less-than-wonderful review compared to your longwinded ninja, I'm hoping we cross paths again. ^_^ / Poetry is a thing of God(s), putting it in our hands could be dangerous.

6/20/2006 c1 The Breakdancing Ninja
It makes more sense to me like that, because “erasing everything that’s worth leaving” could possibly erase the girl and make her inescapable, a continual nightmare.

[A flood of whispered memories/ Will they pierce through this dream?] I saw this sentence as: ‘Will the pain of things I remember finally wake me up to my situation?’ I don’t see this speaker’s dream as something pleasant. It seems like an empty, strange Twilight Zone where he’s an unnamed shadow or a ghost, following around this chick who spends all her time with other men. It seems like a subtle cry to wake him up from a nightmare. Because, usually, the pain starts to numb when people forget what everything MEANS and what possessed them to feel happy or sad about something. It’s that way, especially with relationships that have gone on way too long, a person forgets and everything seems to coalesce and seem very similar. [Even without a face or voice/ Why can’t I reach you?] Though, in context of the poem, this makes sense- the speaker wants to be a stranger to reach her affections possibly like all the other guys do, which makes her seem like a harlot or even a prostitute- the actuality of the words are somewhat absurd. The question is, ‘How come even when I’m not being myself, you don’t love me?’ It’s very disturbing and sends this subliminal message.

The poem is full of an anxiety, an inadequacy, even.

[I’ll enjoy this moment now/ The Rooster sighs/ Even as I watch you sleep/ I feel the daunting uneasiness] this is one of my favorite stanzas of this poem. It seems to be the most straightforward one (I mean, in terms of how straightforward this piece’ll actually get). The speaker seems like a client, paying for services and synthesizing love and affection. Miraculously- or more like, ironically- a lot of people have this feeling when in a relationship. They PAY attention and SPEND time and SERVE needs and GIVE love to their partner- the idea of investing or spending on someone to create the synthesis of love is very scary. In a sense, every person, anxious to keep someone, will pay/spend/give whatever they can, usually settling for something of poor quality or even for something self-destructive. People though, they do the best they can when something they’ve purchased kinda sucks, they do what they can to enjoy it. Of course, the poem didn’t really mean this, the poem is actually a bit more innocent and naïve about it- where the dude’s like, loyal as hell to this chick, whoever the hell this nasty chick is. This inconsiderate chick.

[There’s an empty feeling / A loneliness that sets us apart/ Still, though this goodbye has become familiar/ Can I see you again?] A familiar goodbye’s hella depressing. It’s not even a familiar ‘Hello’. The poem does a great job with making everything to come together to accentuate every other quality. The word choice is both conscious and subconscious, working together, very in-feeling- though, I wouldn’t say, very in-scene. Some stanzas exhibit that quality to them, a very in-scene quality. But it’s more in-feeling.

And the poem ends with that one stanza that pisses me off because of its word choice. If it’s on purpose, I want to know what it is. Christ.

On a lighter note, the poem itself was an awesome read on a lot of levels. Its most miraculous feat is having almost NO punctuation, so a lot of the lines are interpretable as to whether they are coupled with the preceding line, the following line, or stand alone. The poem, though the feeling it emits is of someone in an internal prison or locked in a dream, isn’t (as a literary piece of work) completely constricting for the reader, it paints in broad strokes with small intricacies. Its cryptic nature is also another facet of its abstract interpretations.

The thing that actually disturbs me is the title. “fiction”. It obliterates all the feelings of this poem, blows them off and says, ‘But is anything ever real?’ It might have more to do with the relationship, the relationship isn’t real- which is supported by the actual stanzas, of him buying love and constantly saying ‘Goodbye’, not being recognized as even much of a boyfriend, but rather, a client. It’s a weird thing to title this piece, I see it more like something close to: ‘You Never Saw Me, You Never Heard Me’. That’s a corny title, but it’s what I saw from this poem. Effectually, the title shows the discretions of the author, a very quiescent author who, both in writing and in tone, wishes not to be heard through a big megaphone. The title has that quality. It’s admirable and noteworthy, and definitely a favorite from most of the stuff I read in recent weeks.

Great job with this poem, both coherent, stunning in language and eloquence, as well as conveying something completely original and fresh that the likes of Fictionpress.com rarely sees. Though the styles are different, it’s hard to come across work like this, that conveys ultra rare feelings that even I can’t understand. It lends to the poem’s uniqueness.

If you have any contentions on what I’ve said or questions or “What the hell are you saying’s”, or even the (becoming famous) “U don’t kno wat ur talking about Ninja bitch”, feel free to contact me. The e-mails on my site. Otherwise, I’ll be dropping by to read your other pieces shortly.

Rock on, Monochrome Lovers.
6/20/2006 c1 The Breakdancing Ninja
6/20/2006 c1 The Breakdancing Ninja
Fuckin'. Cut ME OFF AGAIN! 8D!
6/20/2006 c1 The Breakdancing Ninja
It cut off my review. Shitty thing. Here's the rest of it. Fuckin'. 8D

The stanzas are neat, haiku-like even- if there wasn’t a fourth line it could probably very haiku-esque. And regardless of whether you are aware of it or not, the line guards (possibly to patch up Fictionpress.com’s double-spacing on poems) set up boundaries between one stanza and the next, which creates the literary feeling of disjointedness and loose connections- every stanza is its own thing, all working together to become one piece. Luckily for this piece, it helps more than it hurts, and is pretty effective, especially with what it wants to emote. It comes in spurts, quick sections of day dreams and memories.

The general feeling that this poem has is very distinct, but also, very vague. The more general part of this general feeling is, of course, a strange, bittersweet kind of hope bordering sadness and somewhat of desperation.

“Impatient forgetful kiss”. I’ve never seen that combination before to describe any kiss or anything for that matter. But I get a feeling that this girl is coy, or a seductress who could (and probably does) get whoever she wants.

[Her impatient forgetful kiss/ Would it be different if I were a stranger?] I don’t think that the problem is whether the speaker is a different person or not. We have these expectations, especially with the people who know us and are expected to show us “special treatment”, much like when a person gives another person a Christmas present, deep down in their soul, they would HOPE for reciprocation, and of course, it’s very disappointing when they don’t receive it. I think this goes the same way- and the playing field for Love and all that is pretty harsh. A lot of stuff is on the line, which could cause someone to wish for an alternative like this. ‘Maybe if I were someone else’. But that isn’t the real issue. It becomes more apparent in the rest of the poem, which is why the crystallized message is both warm and disturbing. But more into that a little later.

[A nameless face without a voice,/ Fades away with every new shadow] Shadows have that effect, soundless and faceless. “Fades away with every new shadow” shows me the rotation of the sun. This poem has a strange problem with self-identity, especially when faced with its main issue, which is the object of the poem, or the girl.

[The wind plays fancy music / From an era’s torn down posters] I hear honky-tonk, I see can-can dancers on a vintage posters. The effect this has pervades the poem with a feeling of impersonal sensuality, spiritual voyeurism and secret desire- which is what happens when a person comes to be a spectator and a patron of a dream instead of living it. The object of the poem is very elusive, which seems, very much on purpose. It has the effect of chasing something and never really getting it.

The poem is self-contained, close to repressed.

[I introduced a new sound] Not everyone wants to hear a new sound, especially when someone is smug and comfortable in their routine.

[If a burst of light floods through time/ Erasing all that’s worth leaving/ If you forget even my voice/ Let’s start over again] This is desolate. The first two lines took me a while to think about. I try to put things in sentence form when they elude me, and this is what I see: ‘If a burst of light came and destroyed everything that’s worth leaving, (I’d have nothing to live for, no freedom or choices or decisions)’ ‘that’s worth leaving (behind)’? or maybe ‘that’s worth leaving (in favor of you)’? Or even ‘that’s worth leaving (especially you)’? The crucial part is left unsaid, so it’s not exactly apparent how this speaker feels about his/her predicament. “Let’s start all over again”. That cosmic hope that people could take back things they’ve said or done, or to correct something, or to make something better- that’s what it is. A big hope. It’s almost as if the speaker is saying, “Supposing that a big beam comes and shoots all this to hell. WOULD you want to start all over again?” I have a big problem with the first two lines of this particular stanza. It makes me feel more at ease to see: “If a burst of light floods through time/Erasing all that’s worth keeping (EVEN ME, EVEN) If you forget (even) my voice/ Let’s start over again”
6/20/2006 c1 7The Breakdancing Ninja
The Breakdancing Ninja gives this a 4 ½ out of five. The difficulty with any poem that relies heavily on abstract imagery is that the truth could get lost somewhere in between the words and their meaning. The reason why it has a 4 ½ is because the feelings are frank; there are feelings that everyone could relate to- maybe not on the same level of altruism, because, let’s face it, Monochrome Lovers, if a girl forgets about a guy, his first instinct is to go out and find a new one. At least, that’s what I’d do. If I had a girl, that is.
6/19/2006 c1 71MidnightStar005
I really love your poem. I hope to read more of your work!



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