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Ad patres el prostitute (Free verse) by <{Baba^Yaga}> At the back door of a church on Sunday.
In an alley off of St. Andrews, again.
Beating off the cold stink he is waiting.
For father to find him a hot viand & coat.
Wait son, do not yet close thy eyes.
Silently, he eats with both hands faster
then it takes the priest to swallow along
with him. The staticy air gets more tolerable
as both decide to loosen up the other's collar
Wait son, do not yet close thy eyes.
Underneath a full moon, but still dusking.
He notices that brother and sister are sharing
the same sky. Just as the fire drowns down
into a dark blue expanse of rippless heart-ache.
Wait son, do not yet close thy eyes.
Hungry again, but too exhausted to search
any further then the edge of a playground.
Near the beach and his Father's Mission
Bells sing to him, tonight he shall have sleep.
Now son, you may close your own eyes.
Up the ladder:
Goin' For Broke
Down the ladder:
Quiet, Kind Hills
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.4827585
Posted: February 22, 2003 11:39 PM PST; Last modified: February 23, 2003 4:39 PM PSTWeighted score: 6.479092 Overall Rank: 705 Comments:
[7]
nocturnalism @ 4.41.65.243
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22-Feb-03/11:49 PM
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Reply
I don't understand, but it sounds good 8+
[n/a]
<{Baba^Yaga}> @ 24.126.113.154
> nocturnalism
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22-Feb-03/11:53 PM
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He is a young male prostitute homeless and dying of a broken heart.
[n/a]
poetandknowit @ 128.171.10.175
> <{Baba^Yaga}>
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22-Feb-03/11:59 PM
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Reply
Are not we all dying of a broken heart?
[n/a]
<{Baba^Yaga}> @ 24.126.113.154
> poetandknowit
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23-Feb-03/9:48 AM
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Reply
No, I'm not, are you? I'm in love with Dostoyevsky, and tuna melts currently. Oh, and fresh bread and pears.
[n/a]
dmzoacan @ 68.14.26.239
> <{Baba^Yaga}>
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23-Feb-03/4:26 PM
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Reply
Add some stilton and you'll be cooking with Ganus (this comment is funny on many different levels)
[n/a]
dmzoacan @ 68.14.26.239
> poetandknowit
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23-Feb-03/4:27 PM
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Reply
A broken heart is better than a heart that's left alone, silly, at least according to the NewOrder song. A broken heart is like a fistfight or The Stooges - horrible but life affirming.
[n/a]
dmzoacan @ 68.14.26.239
> dmzoacan
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23-Feb-03/4:28 PM
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Note to TanHand, that'd be a good poem.
[9]
TanHand @ 68.14.26.239
> dmzoacan
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23-Feb-03/4:29 PM
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Thanks for the tip honeypie
Have you seen Z. She did not go to that Great White concert did she? she is a metal chic, you know. Where was it. The news here is piss poor.
Rhode Island. I believe she's safe and sound.
RHODE ISLAND IN THE HEEEOUSE. WARRICK. APPARENTLY THEY SUCKED AND THEN GOT REALLY REALLY HOT.
"Dusking" and "same sky" you have crossed the thresh-hold, my favorite poem of yours.
As far as this poem is concerned, pump up the irony, use it as a tragic device.
Pump up the what? What are you on stupid pills lately? tragic device? What the fuck are you talking about idiot?
wait, i appologize for the language, but you clearly have NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, therefore forgive me if i came to the stilting idea you are a fucking melted otterpop. "pump up the irony, use it as a tragic device" i hope your being funny, because i really don't consider some of my closest friends lifes to be that simplistically and that off-handedly compressed into some kind of ironic tragic device, that needs any sort of pumping up. You want to pump something up ironically go re-edit your fucking library TanHand beginning with your stupid fucking user name you fucking 'sifter'.
Sorry, it's just that every time i see your name i want to put my fist through someones face. Starting with my own to save the world like jesus, or gilgamesh.
I'll forgive your rage, this time. "Irony" was a lazy, and for this reason poor choice of word. Here is what I meant: if your aim is to express tragedy and societal scorn you should not pander to the audience, since it is the audience that makes up 'society' and is thus the entity which scorns the male prostitute. Therefore, it may very well be in your best interests to make the reader feel not sorry for this person but rather bad about themself. To do this, one could find some ironic or comical slant on the whole situation, something to arouse laughter that cannot be denied. When the reader notices that he or she has laughed at something very tragic, he or she will recognize not only the fault in the self, but also the fact that he or she is very much part of the problem. This will both make the reader feel bad about themself but also make the reader understand the sort of thing this person is going through. Maybe something to do with AIDS?? Did you or did you not read "HOW TO BE FUNNY"? Don't you understand how unfunny humor is?
If you really believe what you have said here, than you have a lot to learn about a lot of things. Pandering to an audience? Are you fucking high? What audience? What scorn? Nobody is scorning the male prostitute here... He is just letting go like he came in. There is nothing to do with comedy, or somehow how making the reader laugh to somehow then regret their laughter. Tell me this, When you shit at the toilet do you draw a fucking blueprint with an agenda about how your ass will feel when coming face to face with it's reflection? i doubt it, so why do it here, or period. It's not meant to be that complicated. Fuck, no wonder you are socially shunned. Now if this poem was about oil painting i would lend you a few more moments, but it's not, so piss off (aids? do you even know anyone with aids idiot? SHUT THE FUCK UP!)
I thought you said I was intelligent
What? You think a genius can't be a fucking dim wit, or a know it all who knows nothing occasionally. It's the balance of life. I do think you are smart and funny and you are a blast to read and heckle with, but there are times even you and me are wrong and jesus too. it's okay, we are right the other 98% of the time, but here you are wrong. Have you ever been an alter boy, and a male hustler, i highly doubt it, therefore you are comparing this story to what they have taught you to compare it to, and you are wrong, and so are they. It's just that simple
Why am I wrong? Because I've not been an altar boy or a male hustler? Am I to believe that this needs to be the case for a reader to appreciate this work? What exactly, is a poetic success if this is? If I am comparing this story to what 'they' have taught me to compare it to, isn't everyone? And isn't any criticism of anything by anyone based on a comparison of the thing and what 'they' have taught us to believe? Do you even want criticism? It seems you are principally opposed to it. The somber reality behind this poem has nothing to do with this as a piece of poetry. I could write a poem about my cat that died when I was in the third grade but it would take more than the fact that my cat died to make the poem good. It would take more than imagery, skill, craft and all the rest - it would require some evidence of an effort to say something to some audience. Without this evidence the poem would be pointless, and by extension disrespectful to my dead cat.
I will concur with you about the last line of the poem though, and that is all, thank you good night sir.
Stanza after killer stanza. Is it the weather or my hormones? Everybodies writing is sharp these days.
And what is this profundity through obscurity bullshit anyway, with the titles in, what is that, portuguese? Latin? Both? And writing three of them? Some sort of holy trinity of 'truth'? The repetition I don't like at all here, since it implies a sort of damned for all times type tone where one of discord and sincerity is more suitable.
Are you trying to use the language of old to express something inexpressable in times of old? ie male whore death? Thy? The lines and images themselves are very potent and very well organized but there is so much crap in the way. And the last line is the worst, really, the second to last stands much better on it's own. The finality is far too poetic, to devicey. It acts only as a burden to the obvious virility of the rest of it.
Maybe because it's not a recipe, turnip toes. You think you have a grasp of what i'm attempting to do here with your comment?, but the only thing you're grasping onto is your own decrepid fucking ego, Lord Ganus, and once again, do you know how funny it is to recieve such an enlightening critique upon this poeem by Lord Ganus? of all the fucking impossibly assinine things? You are childishly amusing, but little more than that Lord Ganus./ Next time try Sir scrotum, or perhaps Baron Duck butter, or even the more stimulating Duke of Fagginton. virility? Jesus, sometimes you give me indigestion noodle nose.
The Earl of Dongcaster told me to write those comments.
GANUS IS ME/SETTLE. YOU DUMB CUNT. LET IT GO. I AGREE TO DISAGREE ON THIS ONE, AND IF IT MEANS I'M AN EGOTISTICAL IDIOTIC WANKER SO BE IT, IT IS CONSOLATION ENOUGH KNOWING I DIDN'T WRITE THIS.
(YOU FUCKING RETARD) 4 for efourt.
And furthermore I don't see why you're so huffy. I think the poem sucks and I said why. I think it's extremely stupid. Here, I'll change my vote to 10, if that's what bothers you.
I'm not huffy. I just think that you are being bias. 4, 10 2, 5, 9, whatever, i don't recall sighting the rating as having an axis point in my argument, thank you good night. What bothered me was you completely avoided at all costs what this poem was about on purpose, or you really don't know. one or the other.
Look, if I can't see what this poem is about, who is at fault? If this poem effectively communicated what it was about, it would be obvious that I had avoided what this poem was about on purpose. But it didn't communicate that, and so now there is some question in your mind whether I am obnoxious or stupid.
My point here is that it's an excellent piece that for some reason does nothing for me. I cannot relate to these situations, so it can't tell me anything. You make no effort to court readers who have not been male hustlers, and this is pretentiousness in my opinion. There is nothing to bridge the gap between your fucked up life and my shiny, straightlaced dime-store wingtips. Thus, anyone who liked this poem who isn't a male hustler is liking it because the subject matter is novel, and because it is written well enough to believe that it really means something to someone somewhere.
"Thus, anyone who liked this poem who isn't a male hustler is liking it because the subject matter is novel, and because it is written well enough to believe that it really means something to someone somewhere."
Do you really believe that line of shit? You mean that you can't feel sorry for a child that's been molested unless you yourself have been molested? You mean that you can't feel sorry for a person who can't find employment unless you've ever had the problem? You mean that you can't have sympathy with out total, utter, and complete empathy? What ever happened to crossing that gap? Maybe I've never been a male prositute but I can relate to being shunned for other choices I've made (and some things that aren't choices). Have you never made a wrong choice and been aware that others knew it? Have you never looked into the eyes of another person and been able to see that they didn't like either you or actions? That is all it takes to empathise with the poor fellow. If you haven't the thought alone should stir some sympathy in you. I can also relate to being broken hearted. That is something I would think that even if you had never been through you would feel sorry for him about.
My point here is that I believe the poem would be more effective if it didn't try to bridge the gap between male whore experience and average experience by assuming that the reader can find some common ground to relate to. I feel that this search cheapens and weakens the poem. If the reader were unable to find common ground he or she would begin to comprehend the feeling that someone who has no common ground with anyone else feels, ie what a male prostitute dying alone in an indifferent world feels. My point here is that the sense of tragedy is lessened by the unimaginative delivery. All this poem does is say that some guy is dying under unfortunate circumstances and that he's sad. Big fucking deal I say. If the sole intent here is to make the reader feel sorry for this person, it wouldn't be much of a poem, even if it did manage to do that.
It's a fine poem, it just seems that if h8 feels so strongly about this, maybe he should do something interesting instead of something not too many tiers above your garden variety whiney girl poetry. The fact that it is about a male whore dying alone doesn't really distinguish it from those my girlfriend left me type things so universally scorned.
Your random capitalisation and punctuation errors distract from the punch of this; also, i tend to agree that the subject needs to be better defined for the reader to feel empathy on the order of magnitude you seem to be courting. S2L2 "then" should be "Than"
I think the poem is bloody good. so there.
i dont understand why all you people have to be rude about everyones poems i mean like all of yours are perfect
Shut uppa you mouth, asshat.
is this like some kind of devil worship site or something or are all yall people in la la land or something?
Fuzzy69navel wants to know if we are in la la land? Thats funny fuzzy, you obviously have a fine grasp upon reality judging from your user name and dialectic middle ground.
Is this possibly about the catholic church? Well actually I saw your name else where and was wondering if you know that this is one of the most waesome pieces ever written? I personally think that you have talent. Find yourself a good 'play' though
Yes! Yes! the church... The catholics... Ad Patres means gathered to the fathers and or deceased. and El prostitute mean the bowl of raison bran? No. this has very little to do with religion. if anything this poem is about 'compromise' and 'self-forgiveness' the mixture of sex in the title and a church and a mission in the poem serve only as a reminder that death in itself is the ultimate sanctuary and a part of life's learning lessons.
The first thing I've read fromn you in two months and I have to say it's some of the best I have ever read from you. 9+
In responses to my comments, you have neglected to write anything about my comments on your poetry. Maybe when you address each feeble point I make I'll stop goading you. If this poem is such the fucking cat's pyjamas it won't take a minute.
I was snow boarding, just got back. Now, Settle, i do not believe this poem is all that. The poem is just an attempt by me to evolve and just let go of certain mental clutter. It is not about male prostitution literally. The prostitute reaches a point in repetition where he accepts certain facts and just finds solace in that. He is not bitter. It deals with this fact all people have a right to eat and sleep peacefully that is all. Tomorrow i will write one, more specifically designed to meet the criteria of your argument and posture. Okay? One about what you think this one is about but it's not... Then you can whoop it up and hone it down to whatever in the hell your heart desires. geez.
IT SUCKS!! ADMIT IT!!
I have read some fine poetry today in the top 15 and this is no exception. I vote 7
but still dusking? this makes little sense.
Apart form that its good. 6
An equinox idiot.
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