[RhetoricThug]

"Armed past our teeth (post-idioms of the weak) with unique high quality weaponry, deemed worthy through refined technique. Fellas who follow fellow craft are sure to enhance their own defense. Seeds settle here, on Earth, sent from above. Cradled with love by an extra-dimensional care giving nurse. Seeds from which we once slid, slimy sleuth procuring loot, an ootheca spread thick.

Cyclopean side-shows mono-optic kaleidoscopic styles
Eye naught nigh naive, ye
Secret keys to success

Fledgling sheep grieve
I conceive re-veiled counseled wisdom through esoteric belief
Speak all they wish thy meager means know only end.

Polychromatic
Fallible
Folly"


-RT

[Demosthenes]

"Armed past our teeth

You didn't finish your quote so it's not clear what's being said or by whom.

with unique high quality weaponry, deemed worthy through refined technique. Fellas who follow fellow craft are sure to enhance their own defense.

At this point it seems like you're just writing gibberish because you think it all sounds clever. It doesn't appear to follow proper English sentence structure and is just one big long run-on sentence so ambiguous that no real meaning can be gleaned from it.

Seeds settle here, on Earth, sent from above. Cradled with love by an extra-dimensional care giving nurse. Seeds from which we once slid, slimy sleuth procuring loot, an ootheca spread thick.

Here again is more of the same. You can follow the "seeds" metaphor to a certain point and then when "slimy sleuth" begins all meaning is lost and it's like you're just trying to impress people with your ability to use weird phrases together that sound neat but don't make any sense. I suppose on some level there is some imagery being used, but it's worthless as a poetic device because it's not mated with anything real or tangible that the reader can identify with.

Cyclopean side-shows mono-optic kaleidoscopic styles
Eye naught nigh naive, ye
Secret keys to success

I assume this is supposed to be some kind of poetry but again it suffers from the same "Hallmark card" style of the gibberish written above it. All the words are kinda neat but none of them make any rational sense. It's as if someone smoked something besides tobacco and just blurted out some stoned-stream-of-consciousness rantings.

Other than that the poem has no sentence structure, nor anything at all from which to intuit any meaning whatsoever. A verb once in awhile would aid this tremendously, it reads as if the entire thing is just one long description of nothing whatsoever doing nothing whatsoever.

Fledgling sheep grieve
I conceive re-veiled counseled wisdom through esoteric belief
Speak all they wish thy meager means know only end.

Once again we are transported to the world of jumbled thoughts and non-linear sentence structure, at least at face value. What are Fledgling sheep? (Don't explain, I'm supposed to be able to get it from the poem). Line two doesn't appear to have anything obvious to do with line one, it's just some kind of ranting nonsense that you'd have to be the writer to understand as there is far too much missing for the reader to be able to associate it with anything. Line three appears to also just be thrown in with nothing to tie it back to lines one or two.

It is even less clear what exactly the mish-mash of stanza one is supposed to have anything whatsoever to do with the hodge-podge of stanza two.

Over all I'd say there is very little to work with here because by the time you rehabilitate it, whatever the work was supposed to be about will be so radically changed from it's current form that you could literally just start from scratch all over again and have that be considered a revision of this mess just as logically.

[RhetoricThug]

I didn't think a TLTE post would make you this upset.
The confusion is in the title. Multicolored error-prone foolishness. I wrote this piece while reading Albert Pike's Morals & Dogma. Your profane criticism misses the point entirely.

"Armed past our teeth (post-idioms of the weak) with unique high quality weaponry, deemed worthy through refined technique. Fellas who follow fellow craft are sure to enhance their own defense. Seeds settle here, on Earth, sent from above. Cradled with love by an extra-dimensional care giving nurse. Seeds from which we once slid, slimy sleuth procuring loot, an ootheca spread thick.

The followers of masonry and its craft refine mental techniques, making them armed past their teeth with unique and high quality mental formations. Each mental formation can be described as a weapon, because every weapon must be used to combat a man's environment (be it word or sword). The weapons, or mental artifacts can be planted like seeds, since the Freemasons believe in a higher power, all knowledge is given to them by a divine source. The seeds of hidden knowledge spread thick behind veils.

Of course, you can take the seeds analogy for what's worth, I'm not picky. I do like the imagery you describe.

Cyclopean side-shows mono-optic kaleidoscopic styles
Eye naught nigh naive, ye
Secret keys to success

Cyclopean refers to the single-minded vision, that of a cyclops who has only one eye to interpret the world, instead of two, or three (spiritually speaking). Cyclopean can also refer to the irregular blocks that built hermetic structures years ago.

The single minded, or blinded, side-show presents his mono-optic vision with a deceptive style. Kaleidoscopic styles go inward, infecting humanity and giving the profane a single-minded sense of their environment.

Eye naught nigh naive- don't take what you see as something innocent. I see nothing near innocent when it comes to the cyclopean side-show. The key hole offers a singular point of view unless you have the key to open the door and see fully through.

Fledgling sheep grieve
I conceive re-veiled counseled wisdom through esoteric belief
Speak all they wish thy meager means know only end.

The single-minded flock may cry, but I give birth to the revealed (because to reveal originally comes from re-veil) keys by way of esoteric knowledge. After-all, everything the profane says is polychromatic fallible folly, may they speak their means but know only death.

Polychromatic
Fallible
Folly"

This is just playful lettering to spin my title. Notice the many colors, then black & white. This entire thing is not a fav work of mine, but I doubt you thought I had been commenting on Freemasonry.


Anyway, I have plenty of other artistic creations on PoFo... I don't know why you wanted to tackle this one. How can you tackle something that you cannot see or interpret without my help, Demo?

[Demosthenes]

I didn't think a TLTE post would make you this upset.

What makes you think I'm upset? I mean... I teach writing, this is what I do. You begged me via pm a few to critique you and I just got some time to do that. *shrugs*

Your profane criticism misses the point entirely.

I doubt it.

The followers of masonry and its craft refine mental techniques, making them armed past their teeth with unique and high quality mental formations. Each mental formation can be described as a weapon, because every weapon must be used to combat a man's environment (be it word or sword). The weapons, or mental artifacts can be planted like seeds, since the Freemasons believe in a higher power, all knowledge is given to them by a divine source. The seeds of hidden knowledge spread thick behind veils.

While all that is fine as a concept, none of that is in the work that the reader has access to, ergo none of it is clear. You'd be better off writing what you just wrote and calling it your work, actually.

Cyclopean refers to the single-minded vision, that of a cyclops who has only one eye to interpret the world, instead of two, or three (spiritually speaking). Cyclopean can also refer to the irregular blocks that built hermetic structures years ago.

The single minded, or blinded, side-show presents his mono-optic vision with a deceptive style. Kaleidoscopic styles go inward, infecting humanity and giving the profane a single-minded sense of their environment.

Eye naught nigh naive- don't take what you see as something innocent. I see nothing near innocent when it comes to the cyclopean side-show. The key hole offers a singular point of view unless you have the key to open the door and see fully through.

Same response as above. All that is fine and whatnot but your translation to the reader contains nothing that so much as triggers any kind of recognition of any of it for them. Meaning... it's gibberish.

How can you tackle something that you cannot see or interpret without my help, Demo?

I see what is on the page and only what is on the page.

Your profane criticism misses the point entirely.

Yeah, yours completely missed the point as well, as in, by going miles and miles over your head.

[RhetoricThug]

What makes you think I'm upset? I mean... I teach writing, this is what I do. You begged me via pm a few to critique you and I just got some time to do that. *shrugs*

Boozy plea, maybe...

You're critiquing a very weak work. Clearly... I'm vulnerable here, especially if each ambiguous stanza is linked to a personal reflection concerning Morals & Dogma. Maybe you are harboring unconscious anger toward my writing? My mind operates on a high creative plane. If your main focus is structure and proper English syntax, poetry is your enemy. Language tends to be our expression technology, I create art, I create expression. Stop resisting my novelty.

I'm dripping wet and Demos all dried up.

[Demosthenes]

Maybe you are harboring unconscious anger toward my writing?

No. I'm aware of my unconscious.

My mind operates on a high creative plane.

Huh.

If your main focus is structure and proper English syntax, poetry is your enemy.

Yeah, no that is the common misconception of many would-be modern poets. All poetry follows certain structures and guidelines. Until it doesn't. But to be one of the ones that don't you usually must first prove you belong in the first group. I was trained in poetry before fiction. I understand how to interpret it quite well and have won an award of too for some of mine which will not appear on PoFo.

I create art, I create expression. Stop resisting my novelty.

Do you suppose you are the only one, or have any monopoly on such things?

I'm dripping wet and Demos all dried up.

Whatever this means, please don't say it again.

[RhetoricThug]

We can exchange blow all day and each year; thing is, I don't want to, I'm all coked out.

No. I'm aware of my unconscious.

Then this is an outward manifestation of your anger?

Huh.

I see your statement, nonetheless, I'll treat it as a question. Operating on the higher plane of creativity calls for psychosis. I am surreal & aware with purpose. Perhaps I am enlightened? Perhaps I embody the human condition? Do I need to answer you, Demo? Oh God of Poo-poo.

Yeah, no that is the common misconception of many would-be modern poets. All poetry follows certain structures and guidelines. Until it doesn't. But to be one of the ones that don't you usually must first prove you belong in the first group. I was trained in poetry before fiction. I understand how to interpret it quite well and have won an award of too for some of mine which will not appear on PoFo.

Hold up, are you calling me a modernist? I'm anything but. I'm avant-garde, Demo. I'm happy for your prestige, I'll take your word for it once I read your word for it. I'll admit that I admire your adherence to the civilized standard. If you ever get the chance, I'd like to read some of your work privately. Send me it in a PM if you can? Obviously I throw spontaneous combustion of creativity out online to hear the other end of intelligence's opinion.

Do you suppose you are the only one, or have any monopoly on such things?

Am I permanently manic? Of course I own no right to the treasure... Fuck man.

Whatever this means, please don't say it again.

I'm oozing creativity, you're dried and the dried become critics.

We are clashing because of differences in style, I'm sorry you refuse to apperciate my contributions to Earth's magnum opus.
Did you ever think this: I'm tired of all the drained toxic rain so I refuse to participate in pop culture's organized pain. Instead, I am the RhetoricThug.

May you imagine, James Joyce and his Finnegans Wake took 17 years of toil. I write things according to gut feelings and spontaneous intoxication. I print the first thing to come to my mind, I am the shortened epitome of creative thought. You may take advantage of my drunken self-defense, but may I assure you, art is not just a hobby.

I am?
Can you process dual meaning?

As for this thread, I've explained myself.

"One-eyed men aren't really reigning
They just march in place until
Two-eyed men with mystery training
Finally feel the power fill
Three-eyed men are not complaining.
They can yo-yo where they will"

Do what thou wilt
Make it Men at arms, Demo.

[youtube]8sCriHMhOoo[/youtube]
Readers, please listen to this while indulging in this thread's battlenotes. Thanks.

-RT