Rip these apart.

[Antithetic]

Hi, I'm 18, from the UK and I've recently finished 6th form.
I'm currently battling a variety of emotions, and suffer from a cocaine addiction. I've always had a passion for literature, or more specifically words.

I'm currently using poetry to attempt to escape the lows. In many ways, it's just an outburst of emotion - but I do try to control it.

It's pessimistic as ****, and fairly tautological. I'm fairly naive when it comes writing poetry; I've probably broken almost all poetic conventions in the following poem. So please, don't hold back. Also note that I decided against a rhyming pattern for the simple reason that I found it too restricting.

I just wanted to provide some background information about me; hopefully it should aid in understanding my poetry.

Thanks in advance for any comments. Again, please be as critical as you like.

**EDIT: The reason for the plural in the title was because I originally included two poems. However, I chickened out of posting the first one...**



Articulation Is My Only Weapon

I fall, more and more -
isolation hits; solitude strikes; melancholic madness.
The effects have long gone,
now they seemed my world.

I'm left with an apocalypse,
articulation ammunition and poetry my gun
- fighting my own lonliness.
All that's left is me.

I walk in search of others.
This same gun pessimistically pointless:
For what am I fighting against?
What is it that I should protect myself from?

My overwhelming emotions seem
underwhelming. Paradoxically pointless;
antithetically aimless; oxymoronically obsolete.
Yes, articulation is my only stability.

I need comfort; happiness; another body
Or soul. Desperately I search.
Turning boxes, lifting stones - to look
for whomever underneath.
Articulation is my only weapon;
yet I must lay it down to seek.

[Pendragon]

A trifle wordy, but in this case, you use them so well that it makes the poem rather than detract from it. Good form, sah! http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/ThumbsUp.gif

[blp]

Rip it apart? Well, my view is this is typical teenage angst poetry. All it really does is list bad feelings in a rather generalised and clichéd way. I'm not saying that demoralise you – it's obvious you can use words well. The problem is lack of imagination. My guess is, you have imagination, but you're not really using it. Imagination is freer than this. The results would be more interesting (and you might very well also feel better) if you tried a lot more approaches. Free associate, try to bring in more concrete material – quotes, imagery, things that have happened and things you dream about happening. It will probably all be relevant to the turmoil you're going through, but it will also, ultimately, be more interesting to you and more enjoyable. Don't be in a rush to make it into poetry. Take a lot of notes.

A little quote to keep in mind: '...no ideas but in things.' – William Carlos Williams

[Adolescent09]

I'm not sure about cliche... but overtly pretentious and blatantly arrogant are terms that more fittingly describe her style. This piece resembles the way I wrote at fifteen: I would produce every large word expanding the limits of my vocabulary into a short piece of writing in order to outwardly project myself as a precocious individual. I'd personally prefer an explicit William Blake poem to what she has posted mainly because of her poem's lack of fluidity and invitation of uniqueness.

Simpler styles can truly augment poems because they keep away from stilted lengthy word usage. The author of a simpler technique can alleviate himself and write spontaneously by incorporating beauty into the essence of the poem through explicitness.

In simple terms, the stanza, 'Tiger, Tiger burning bright, In the forest of the night, which immortal hand or eye, could carve thine graceful symmetry?' uses words that are simple and universally understandable. William Blake and other explicit poem writers did not convolute their sentences with abstractive words and pointless observations. Rather they painted a beautiful and accessible picture with words that did not disparriage against a poorer class of people who would be too ignorant to fathom pretentiousness. It is their simplicity which has won the fame and respect of readers who view poetry a means of art rather than a strive for some grand level of esoteric acceptance.

Remember that verbosity only hinders creativity.

[Antithetic]

Firstly, thanks for all your comments and responses.

I'm amazed at how perceptive your response was, 'blp'. I wrote this poem almost continually and the only alterations I really made were grammatical. Perhaps planning may have helped...
I think I also fell into the trap of producing a slightly generic of - as you put it - 'teenage angst'. What's in my head may be unique or individual, but without using better imagery, it probably sounded fairly generic. So, thanks.

'Adolescent09', your response was equally interesting. I probably doubled my knowledge of what makes a good poem in just reading your post!
Strange that you assumed I was female though, which I'm not.

Thanks again for the responses, any more would be greatly appreciated.

[Adolescent09]

I'm so sorry. Ech.. I have to stop assuming genders based on how screen names sound!

[blp]

Glad it was helpful to you Antithetic. Keep writing; kick the coke! (easier said than done, I know). Oh - I assumed you were male, by the way.