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Critical analysis never rests.

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@Oi No Drumming wrote:

Devil may care

Wild bluster and grayness mingle
Curled fists hold fast through snarling gusts
Our even strides overtake fast food fat legs
As they scream at smaller snottier versions of themselves
Eating chips.

The vacancy signs are flashing
Bed and breakfast at a price
As the adults of the future, getting wed,
Make last sordid single memories they are likely to forget
By tomorrow.

“Waste your time and money here!”
Is screamed loud upon each pier.
As we lean upon the rusty painted railings.
The reflective stretching sand is the purest thing in sight
Or so it seems.

Grimy shops along the sea front
Sell complete and utter garbage
The only people buying have no taste.
In one shop a tower of golliwogs peer through crumpled cellophane
So grotesquely.

We take refuge in a café, and sip tannin strong tea
Staring out through stale smeared windows
At passing hoards intent on having fun.
It’s a strange addictive feeling that you might be missing something
But you’re not.

Before you get all worried
And think the time we spent was wasted
I can tell you categorically it wasn’t.
For every second that I spent, at the seaside town from hell
Illuminated.

Interesting use of imagery. I would be interested to hear Esme’s opinion.

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I am not nearly gruntbuggly enough to emulate a vogon.

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I shall strive to reach memorable badness.

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…

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Alexander Pope – Essays on Criticism – exerpts

Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in juding ill;
But of the two, less dangerous is th’ offence
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.

Some few in that, but numbers err in this,
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose,
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

In poets as true genius is rare,
True taste as seldom is the critic’s share;
Both must alike from Heav’n derive their light
These born to judge, as well as those to write.

Some have at first for wits, then poets passd
Turnd critics next and provd plain fools at last.
Some neither can for wits nor critics pass
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.

But you who seek to give and merit fame
And justly bear a critics noble name
Be sure your self and your own reach to know
How far your genius, taste and learning go
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet
And mark that point where sense and dullness meet.

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An ideal world would make monsters of us all.

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could it be I like you :wink:

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indeed it is sharon.. indeed it is.

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Something in you caused me to take a new tact with you
I was going through something
You has just about scraped through
Why’d you think I let you get away with the things you say to me
Could it be? I like u
So shameful of me, I like you

No one I ever knew or have spoken to resembles you
This is good and bad all depending on my general view
Why’d you think I let you get away with all the things you say to me?
Could it be? I like u
So shameful of me, I like you

Magistrates who spend their lives hiding their mistakes
They look at you and I and envy makes them cry
Envy makes them cry

Forces of containment, they shove their fat faces into mine
You and I just smile because we’re thinking the same line
Why’d you think I let you get away with all the things you say to me?
Could it be? I like u
So shameful of me, I like you
You’re not right in the head, and nor am I, and this is why
You’re not right in the head, and nor am I, and this is why
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you
You’re not right in the head, and nor am I, and this is why
You’re not right in the head, and nor am I, and this is why
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you

[Author]

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