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This is feedback for feedback on my latest published poem, "The Waste Wagon". I got off on a rant while responding to comments so I figured I'd publish my rant in the rant category, since I made a few nice little poetic truisms. They are so much fun.
Thank you thank you all. I'm thrilled for your feedback. It seems I'm getting better at communicating with the reader while maintaining my artistic individuality. I have to thank lit.org for assisting me in my improvement. This is the best online writer's community out there. "The Waste Wagon" was a cautionary poem. I'm filled with intense, swirling, and complex negative emotions about the state of the world today, but I'm not a pessimist. I do feel that this dry, withered, and dying future can be avoided if we focus on the little things. Moist, Warm, and colorful random acts of kindness. Most of us consider ourselves so superior to the earth we live on and the species that surround us, even the less fortunate members of our own. Truth is we are part of an ecosystem goddamnit. This poem is a tiny two dimensional speck of my vision of that ecosystem gone awry. Let's not neglect the biological, interconnected, and lovely fluid nature of things in favor of our achievements in the machinery of convenience and ignorance. There's love and warmth to be found everywhere. Flames can be a good thing. Rain doesn't have to drown us all. Metal can be used superfluously to construct a new infrastructure that brings man and nature together again in harmony and we don't have to suffer for our sweat and our misgivings. The habits that plague us are tiny silken threads in an elaborate tapestry of rape and wrong. Conscience has been commoditized and marginalized in favor of various forms of masturbation and love, our most essential achievement has been stretched thin over a hot bottle and blown up like so much latex out of any decent proportion. It's now synthetic, as everything seems to be, shaped and simple, but real love is not. We all know this in our hearts. Stop reveling in plastic. We can live in wood. We can live in compost. We can live in a good kind of filth that nourishes life when it melts away. We can work together, being good to one another, being good to the earth that sustains us, being good to our dreams and utopian visions, but not letting anything take us away from what it means to be alive. Peace and love all. Sorry to vomit all over the comment window like this.
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Siredwinsantos@gmail.com
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Superflous
