Nobody of Consequence

You can't go past Python Anyone remember this? Brian: "You are all individuals!" Crowd: "Yes, we are all individuals!"

No idea how long this piece will end up being. Anyway, thought I'd be presumptuous enough to assume I'll get some responses, and get the ball rolling.

The monkeys have checked my email address for me, and it appears to be working fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have 732 pages of spam to sort through ...

Hehe, I like Wondering, though, if you considered not spelling out the narrator's identity? Maybe just throw in a couple more clues, and leave us either wondering or grinning?

lol - I love it. Reminds me of cats I've known.

The reasons why a beer is good are almost far too many to count. It takes the place of lesser foods. It bubbles like a sacred fount. It elevates a lesser mood. And when my bed I'm wont to mount with maiden beer has found and wooed, the glasses rosy head off rue: her glasses rosy remain, too.

IT would be unseemly of me not to offer you my thanks for the warmth of reception. However, the monkeys have taken umbrage at being refered to as apes by one of your number, and therefore I am left with no choice but to allow them to respond. That and the fact that I'm strapped to a chair with one hand free to type this reply, whilst "Planet of the Apes" is on continuous loop on an adjacent monitor. Regretably, the description of chimpanzees as apes this movie implies has only fueled their anger. We are monkeys. Resistance is futile. We will assimilate your witticisms and add them to our collection. Drop your linen and prepare to start grinnin'. Oh dear lord ... they've brought out the beat box ... Ya'll get ready for this. Hey yeah, ho, hey yeah, ho We are the monkeys. Resistance is futile. We'll bust down your rhymes with our heat-seekin' style. Heat-seekin' style? What are we thinking? Your rhymes are so dead their corpses are stinkin' A heat-seekin style can't find somethin that cold. Don't need to start firing to lay ice on your souls. You think one style is all that we got? My brother, we chillin' so much we're too hot. You think a sun's hot? We got a Big Bang to lay in this slot. Absolute zero ain't even a challenge. The Monkey Troop is owning this stage, Writing a new chapter on the evolution page. Challenge? We're building a condo on your Stone Henge. Deconstruction just isn't your thing. Destruction is what's written on your skin. Whole world knows the human race. Suckaz racing to bring eachother down. Watch your back, Jack, don't do it again. Prehensile tails let us run a ring around you clowns. Two hands on the keys And a sting in the tail. We outtie. I'm so terribly sor ... oh, no ... they've found the "8 Mile" DVD ... (OOC) EDIT - Thanks guys - that was laugh out loud good. Let's see where we can take this, if you're willing?

Ok, so those long dark hours twixt midnight and mourning are now gone, along with any chance of sleeping, and I'm so thoroughly restless that I'm doing this instead of watching Pokemon, since I really cannot advocate any show which suggests it is somehow good to capture wild animals for gladatorial purposes, and I'm not watching the news since I have a fairly good idea what it will be (war updates, terrorism updates, the next step in the endless political cycle, the next step in the endless sporting cycles, the next step in the endless financial cycles, the next step in the endless weather cycle, and a shaggy dog story - blech). Ennui is about the only thing worth thanking the French for. And I would if it seemed worth doing. The problem with mental illness is that sometimes it's hard to know where rational thoughts end and irrational ones begin, and vice versa. And let's face it, unless Jennifer Connelly has a few hours free, I'm pretty much stuck in the blurring for the rest of the day. Until I can sleep again. Until I can fold myself in the margins, and let all become marginal, softly shimmering in and out of focus with the endless cycles of dreaming. Yeah, ok, even this too will pass. This is just part of another cycle, and by focusing on that, I can discern that which is eternal. I really ought to meditate more, but I just have too much on my mind. *boom, tish* Breathe in, breathe out. Let night hitch up its skirts and tiptoe away, avoiding the bright eye of another day. It's kinda funny, but I used to always think the phrase 'Nothing lasts forever' was kinda, well, sinister. Now, it's about the only thing I have. OOC - edit for spelling mistakes

I look forward to it

Nice job - don't change a thing.

Hmm ... interesting idea. Let's see, now ... We, the monkeys, will not enter into correspondance regarding the degree of creativity or effort involved in this production The stableboy shaded his eyes from the morning sun with one hand. He turned, looking into the empty stable once again, and with a final sigh, let the large gate clang shut.

The fat lazy slob almost envied the leers the angry supermodel received. *** stay tuned for extra bonus hidden seventh sin *** Goddamn, I'm good!

Two quick things. "He paused in remembrance, a tender affliction" is a perfectly respectable line. My inclination, though, would be to make it something along the lines of: "He paused in tender affliction". I find poetry is always strongest when pithiest. Second thing. This has promise, but it's also longer than I think it needs to be. I think you are right to do the recap at the end. Perhaps you could consider ways to say exactly the same things with fewer words, condense your imagery? In terms of style, stick with it. I think the most important thing is that it provides the right vehicle for your thoughts. I also feel that the somewhat colloqial formats of free verse really suit the everyday world from which the narrator views this scene. Hope that helps some.

Makes sense to me One of my fave writing-related thoughts comes courtesy of American writer Harlan Ellison, who spoke about how he has two selves: his normal, everyday, self, then the writer self, who is a really smart S.O.B. who occassionally shoulders him out of the way, does something brilliant and then wanders off to leave his normal self standing around saying 'Cool' and blinking in a mixture of awe and amusement. I might have paraphrased that, btw.

/me puts on his Gloves of Quibbling Umm, I think the 3rd line/2nd verse was a syllable short, might need 'up' at the end? /me removes Gloves of Quibbling I enjoyed it so much, that I want two poems

Dear Sirs/Madams/Wyverns/Sundry creatures of fair and foul demeanour/fowls of rubber and/or other non-organic materiel, the purpose of this missive is to demand entry into the organisation known as "The Pen is Mightier than the Sword". I have delegated several thousand monkeys, a judiciously located Egg of Time and an oversize whisk to the task of creating the Shakespeareanesque epistolary found below. In the event that the work is deemed to be of insufficient quality, I will be left with no alternative but to submit the rest of their writings as punishment. If that should fail, be warned that I have in my possession enough eggs to make an omelette of such gigantic proportions that the very concept of gigantitude becomes meaningless as a unit of measurement: indeed, language itself recedes in the face of such immensity. I also have all your e-mail addresses, and plenty of peanuts for the monkeys. Yours truthfully, sincerely, and a touch maliciously, Nobody of Consequence aka Nobody to Mess With Hey, we're only monkeys, and you didn't give us enough peanuts to make it worth our while to come up with a decent title for this as well as write it. They are kidnappers and theives . They strip our young from the lands of their birth, before they are even old enough to open their eyes. This alone, one might think, would make them despised throughout the worlds, but it is not so. They are cruel and barbaric. Although I have not seen this with my own eyes, I have it on reliable ears that our young are boiled alive. Some are wrapped in chains and left to die a miserable death, their skins blackened by the heat of the coals. No quick conflagration, not for the likes of us. No mercy, they show us. None. They are brutish and sadistic. Those who they steal from us, those who are not immediately slaughtered and devoured, are flayed alive. Their skins are discarded. They do not even deign to make a trophy of these, the skins of our young, but hurl them into their rubbish tips, where birds and insects pick at them. They are twisted and mishapen in soul. They cannot bear that we should see the truth, lest we spread it, and thus they cut out our eyes. With blunt knives. If they fed themselves upon the eyes of my people, perhaps I could see the sense of it, but they do not. They will not eat our eyes. They consider them distasteful. I cannot tell you which emotion is stronger - my revulsion, or my pity. They are fiendish and malevolant. What else would you call a people who would crush our bodies, and then drink the very juices from them. They hold great celebrations, midnight rituals where they gather their young, who laugh and cavort even as the juices of my kindred slide down their ghoulish throats. They are fecund and parasitic. They give nothing back to the lands they use, but instead twist and turn them to their own uses. They even have a name for the places where they imprison those of my people, the poor ones destined to be part of their disgusting and repulsive rituals. They call them 'farms'. You may think I speak of some people from far away, a people lurking in the darkness of ignorance, but you would be wrong. You may think I speak of a race fiendish and macabre of origin, but you would be wrong. For if you truly wonder who it may be that would wreak such perfidy on the innocent,, if your thirst for justice causes your belly to twist, then you need look no further than your own hands. It is you who does this to us. It is you, the humans, who have persecuted my people all these long years, since we were stolen in slavery from our ancestral homelands, in what you North America. But mark my words, human. Someday soon, my people will rise up, and we shall crush you. You may despoil our corpses, and hide your crimes in ignorance, pretend that you eat french fries, or 'jacket' potatoes, or hash browns, but know this: someday, we potatoes will do to you what you have done to us. Mock my words will you? Mark me, mark my words: we have eyes, everywhere. For every one of my people you devour, there is another in our underground movement waiting to take their place. Our time will come, and then we shall see who the real snack food is.

Parmenion, I hope you won't feel this is presumptuous, but I'll actually stick to treating this as a poem Over all, it is a strong piece. I'll do a line by line, I think ... A moon and a sun, A worshipping man, An Order, disciples, A golden ram. *** Great opening Execution of others, Not of the same, An ark with a drunkard, Who saved those that came. *** First two lines aren't quite as pithy as the last two An emperor, a leader, A spreading wave, A man who was dead, Removed from his grave. *** Nice and tight A crusade for a land, A jihad that was sworn, Two decimated peoples, War tired and torn. *** Personally, I think this is a bit of a weak link in the poem. It doesnt have quite the same ... force ... as the other verses, I'm afraid. An inquisition of thinkers, Burning books, causing strife, In a moment in history, When disease was rife. *** Last two lines for 'pith' A collar, a priest, A whimpering boy, A milky face, A grunt of joy. *** strongest verse in the poem, IMO. Fewest words, strongest images. In fact, I think that verse could actually stand alone as a poem. A controlling power, A force to these days, A changing of thoughts, Their secrets portrayed. A rape of our justice, Their hands were in all, The ruining of lives, How had they the gall? *** I felt as though the last verse wasn't quite distinct enough from the verse before it, so the conclusion lost a bit of the poem's narritive thrust for me. I'm not sure if you used 'gall' as your last word simply for effect or because of the pun (body parts/flesh of christ etc). Let me know, please? Curious. Leaving the thematic issue aside, I think this already stands as a good piece. I honestly feel it could use some minor tweaking, and end up brilliant. ANd please, since I'm new here, let me know if any of this is or is not what you're after in the way of feedback, so I'll know in future - I get the feeling you're kinda prolific

"Only Me" got the biggest response from me, if such things help. And that might be ironic, too. Sigh. Anyway, I did find that the titles of "Fear" and "Shadows" actually diluted the impact of the first line in each poem, and I personally feel they might be better off with more esoteric titles. The language you use in each is quite evocative, yet the titles are very straight forward. Anyway, not intended as niggling, even though it may be. Eeep! Nice job(s), regardless.

Firstly - I liked this. I emoted in response, and IMO, that's what a good poem makes ya do, makes ya feel. Secondly - a minor niggle (sorry!) "A scream Squealing tires Time stopping for a moment her body falling to the ground Everything suddenly turning upside down In 5 seconds" I'm not sure if using 'time stopping for a moment' in a paragraph with so many verbs really works for me. It is a minor thing, but maybe 'time slowing/screeching to a halt' or something else along those lines might be a bit more effective? Maybe, maybe not. Don't pay me any attention.

I find this quite interesting, the way you've given the whole encounter an almost lustful feeling. A lust for Death? Death has a lust for Life?

Hmm ... can't help but feel it needed more of a twist, since I feel the subject matter has been tackled frequently, at least in films such as 'Eat the Rich' through to 'Wall Street'. Now, if you were to nest the concept, go from millionaire sneering at working class Jo, then have the billionaire sneering down their nose at the millionaire, the trillionaire at the billionaire ... and have ever more grotesque luxuries ... see where I'm going? Technically, all was groovy Since I'm really not anyone to speak of, so to speak, I'm not sure if we're here to comment on thematic things as much as the nuts'n'bolts - if not, well, I can grovel later