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Is poem critiquing allowed on lit? I'm a bit new to this board, and I love to write poetry, but nobody to share it with. It's personal to me because it's an outlet for emotions. If so, here's a piece. Tell me what you think guys.
What Weekends?
Friday ends on a sweet note.
Tension and stress is purged through the pervasive pores.
Breathe.
Departing from the sweat and smiles, dread lingering in the subconscious.
Reality is waiting at a place this called “home.”
Pack on the back, water on the side, headphones on.
The train crawls forward in anticipation.
Brief thoughts of suicide,
cut short by the train.
Maybe next time.
The train is relieved.
Strangers with their own story doze.
Humans with their tendencies, their own habits, doze.
Silence on the way “home.”
A hand grips the doorknob tightly,
like any other day.
Spices flood the senses – as usual.
Legs sore, yet they climb the stairs dutifully.
Maybe Tia or Grandma will call today.
With luck, maybe even Dad.
Slim chances, sure, but a guy can hope.
Pack on the floor, water on the table, headphones on.
Climb in to bed wearily.
Silence.
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>>7565213
Fuck didn't even proofread. My bad
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>>7565220
>at a place this called
shiiet
>>
There's already a critique thread and this is awful
http://www.city-journal.org/html/8_1_oh_to_be.html
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>>7565239
He buried himself with right-wing ideology. Anyway, it's banal to announce that the masses are illiterate and pseudo-poetic.
>>
With eyes demure you gingerly advance,
Your hot-pink rocket stirs beneath the fur.
With trembling hands, I quickly drop my pants
And kneel to take the mounting of my cur.
My pucker'd rosebud, pulsing with delight
You sniff and lick, and with a feral growl
Pounce firmly 'pon my back with canine might,
and with surfeit of joy I scream! I howl!
Your stiffen'd meat my sphincter penetrates
and with each thrust it cleaves my colon wide,
as, sweat-bedewed and crying I await
your frothy spunk to paint my fleshy hide
With shudd'ring frame you come; I can't, I've found.
Dear Fudge, a dog can't give a reach-around.
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