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seventeen years old, forever

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  #1  
Old 01-20-2013, 07:28 PM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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Default seventeen years old, forever


What happened to this dream I called my life?
Where did the hope of better times to come go?

Did all the alcohol, tobacco and so on-
Did it burn all the bridges in front of me?

Even now- entering the third third of this existence
The stretch from sixty to ninety
(or am I still up on that tower at Woodstock,
seventeen years old, forever)
I wonder what the hell I'm about

My desire to help my fellow man
diminishing

My willingness to endure the senseless lashing out-
(the throes of society going mad)
just another part of me like toes on feet

The ears on this head


Fear
Self Preservation Fear
It keeps trying to root in a baseless Spirit

A shotgun blast in front of my eyes
A pistol swept away from my belly
A "you ran through a four way stop" ticket
because the young cop's sightline was off
A spine slam onto a wood corner at
'martial arts' training

These events present themselves as seeds

Seeds I feed to nearby Ravens

I've no place to plant such things


That I choose not to perish by my
own
hand
is the way of choosing existence on
life's terms

Yes, the Drama continues unabated
but I am no longer an actor in it
nor an audience member of it


Outside of the Theatre where
'Nick Pierce' plays,
halfway down the block,
I lean in the shallow alcove of an
anonymous, unlit doorway

Without any clear idea of why I know
I know,
innately,
this is the best place to park this carcass

for
now


Last edited by Nick Pierce; 01-23-2013 at 02:25 AM..
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  #2  
Old 01-25-2013, 07:03 AM
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iDrew (Offline)
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What fantastic opening the lines:

that I chose not to perish by my
own
hand

would make, even though I would pefer them as:

that I chose not to perish by my
own hand


but that is neither here nor there. What comes after those lines is the poem, an insight into the backstage workings of the drama of Nick Pierce and, in my opinion, is certainly strong enough to stand on its own. What comes before those lines is, in places, too prosey for my tastes, and to some extent too disconnected and disjointed in a fashion that doesn’t feel like a ramble through the past, more like a spewing it up. Oh there’s good stuff in there, I’m not saying there isn’t, but I don’t feel it’s working to its full potential this way.

Losing the first two stanzas would immediately lessen the prose elements, they seem to ask obvious questions which comes to the reader from the poem’s theme and reflective tone; excess baggage, like ‘toes on feet’ – as opposed to toes on a nose?

The rest could benefit from a similar harsh pruning, possibly as far as a savage cut down into one, or two, stanzas. A more meaningful concentration of nostalgic expression and deliberation, watching life ebb into the past.

However, In my opinion, the key to this poem, and the real gem of this poem, is: ‘that I chose not to perish … ’, and that should become the opening.


xDrew
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  #3  
Old 01-25-2013, 01:37 PM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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Gotta give your comments some thought before responding further.

Thanks.
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Old 01-26-2013, 06:01 AM
Dazzo (Offline)
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Really good and well written.
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  #5  
Old 01-26-2013, 04:42 PM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post


That I choose not to perish by my
own
hand
is the way of choosing existence on
life's terms

Yes, the Drama continues unabated
but I am no longer an actor in it
nor an audience member of it


Outside of the Theatre where
'Nick Pierce' plays,
halfway down the block,
I lean in the shallow alcove of an
anonymous, unlit doorway

Without any clear idea of why I know
I know,
innately,
this is the best place to park this carcass

for
now

Okay, Miss Essex, here is one go at your suggestions.
Now it needs a different title. No big deal.
Gonna sleep on this.
Thanks again for giving the work your eye.

I do want to note that I employ 'choose' not 'chose' to keep in the present
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Old 01-26-2013, 04:43 PM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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Ooops.

Last edited by Nick Pierce; 01-27-2013 at 11:44 AM..
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  #7  
Old 04-16-2017, 06:01 AM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
What happened to this dream I called my life?
Where did the hope of better times to come go?

Did all the alcohol, tobacco and so on-
Did it burn all the bridges in front of me?

Even now- entering the third third of this existence
The stretch from sixty to ninety
(or am I still up on that tower at Woodstock,
seventeen years old, forever)
I wonder what the hell I'm about

My desire to help my fellow man
diminishing

My willingness to endure the senseless lashing out-
(the throes of society going mad)
just another part of me like toes on feet

The ears on this head


Fear
Self Preservation Fear
It keeps trying to root in a baseless Spirit

A shotgun blast in front of my eyes
A pistol swept away from my belly
A "you ran through a four way stop" ticket
because the young cop's sightline was off
A spine slam onto a wood corner at
'martial arts' training

These events present themselves as seeds

Seeds I feed to nearby Ravens

I've no place to plant such things


That I choose not to perish by my
own
hand
is the way of choosing existence on
life's terms

Yes, the Drama continues unabated
but I am no longer an actor in it
nor an audience member of it


Outside of the Theatre where
'Nick Pierce' plays,
halfway down the block,
I lean in the shallow alcove of an
anonymous, unlit doorway

Without any clear idea of why I know
I know,
innately,
this is the best place to park this carcass

for
now



It has taken a while but now I am really starting to like me.
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Old 04-21-2017, 02:29 PM
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iDrew (Offline)
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfK_WE4S7MM



Nothing to do with poems but I was watching a documentary about British Motor Bike history, think it was called ‘Glory Days of British Motorbikes’, and I was wondering, as a US biker: Vincent Black Shadow or Norton 600 or Triumph Bonneville? Apparently lots of other great manufactorers such as Brough, Matchless, Enfield. –Yeah me bruv used to renovate. Went on the back once and rode around the estate no lid – mum went mental but she needn’t had worried as it fucked up me hair and I swallowed a bug. NEVER NEVER AGAIN.

Have trouble posting on this site. What’s gone on? Nothing loads properly, tried Safari and Firefox.


xDrew
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  #9  
Old 04-23-2017, 02:16 AM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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Originally Posted by iDrew View Post
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfK_WE4S7MM



Nothing to do with poems but I was watching a documentary about British Motor Bike history, think it was called ‘Glory Days of British Motorbikes’, and I was wondering, as a US biker: Vincent Black Shadow or Norton 600 or Triumph Bonneville? Apparently lots of other great manufactorers such as Brough, Matchless, Enfield. –Yeah me bruv used to renovate. Went on the back once and rode around the estate no lid – mum went mental but she needn’t had worried as it fucked up me hair and I swallowed a bug. NEVER NEVER AGAIN.

Have trouble posting on this site. What’s gone on? Nothing loads properly, tried Safari and Firefox.


xDrew


Can't speak for anyone else but I would instantly trade my bikes and guns for a Vincent Black Shadow.


As for the site: seems new owners are not interested in maintaining it. Any day could be its last day.


Thanks for the link.
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  #10  
Old 04-23-2017, 02:53 AM
Nick Pierce (Offline)
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[QUOTE=Nick Pierce

Can't speak for anyone else but I would instantly trade my bikes and guns for a Vincent Black Shadow.


[/QUOTE]



Dude, fewer than 1,700 Shadows were made.

Yeah, yeah - looks like I best clean the stuff I was shootin' with yesterday and continue tinkerin' with the stroker.

And props on usin' dude slang, Pierce.
We'll make a normal guy out of you yet.


Hmm.
Thanks, Nick.
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