Reviews for Bum
hoellenwauwau chapter 1 . 8/11/2002
oh very wonderful. lie the line 'death was never so welcome as i' best...your poems are a real challenge for my english! never heard of some of the words here...but hehe, i love to improve my english so your poems are just perfect. you're a great writer! cool stuff
interlectual blonde chapter 1 . 8/1/2002
good, I like your poems
Fire of the Vampire chapter 1 . 5/23/2002
Good. Very good. I like it! :P

God Bless

Much Love

Later Daze

- Kacie
Adia Again chapter 1 . 5/5/2002
Do you know what totally makes my day?

When really really fucking good writers tell me they like my work.

Oh, pinch me.

This is lyrical and self-reflective in quality, which is amazing b/c of it's obvious non-writer POV. Fabulous. I love pseudo self-admonition. I'm humbled to be a favorite. :)
Xaviera Xylira chapter 1 . 4/29/2002
Wow. Simply stunning. I don't even know where to begin. I love the part about the eating disorder, simply because it's a common topic amoung many people today but I have yet to see those who can write it well, but you have surpassed even my hopes for a well-written poem on that topic. I especially love the first two stanzas, however, mostly because they seem so true and I think that there are a lot of people who can most definitely relate. I love the line about the philosophies going unnoticed; that's something I can definitely relate to as well. And overall, it was an amazingly well written poem, not that I expected any less, because this is YOU we're talking about, after all. ;) ~Xavi
Impressionist chapter 1 . 4/25/2002
wow. I'm very impressed. the thoughts go straight to my heart. *ouch*. anyways.

I like the imagry. it seems this person feels they are on a microscope slide..people only take a look when they want to see what *not* to do. all in all, I love it. I think my favorite part is your last line. well done.
the Queen of Jupiter chapter 1 . 4/25/2002
Powerful poem, excellent message. Wonderful as usual :)
allie cole chapter 1 . 4/22/2002
I don't think it's crap. Anything but, I must say :)
Obake-chan chapter 1 . 4/20/2002
Are you saying I'm a brainwasher! Yaya, me and my obsession for nutrtion. And you know what? The part before the poem is not true, OKAAAAAYYYYYYYY? But as always I like your poems and the oxymoronish part of it. And I don't think your poems are coming out nowhere descent. Where's the crazy me? Ahhh. See you tomorrow or saw you today(4/20/02). (. _ .)P"
A.J.Peart chapter 1 . 4/20/2002
First of all, I'm intrigued by the title of this one. I’m not quite sure where it came from, or what the hell it has to do with the poem, but somehow…in a strange and kooky way…it fits. Maybe it’s the whole eating disorder thing crossed with the concept of someone getting pissed off at religion or whatnot and deciding to take it out on the world. In “polite” conversations, so to speak, calling someone a “bum” is generally the equivalent of something more harsh, like an ass or that hole that someone drilled in it… anyway, that’s quite enough ranting about the title, now, don’t you think?

The poem has a lot of anger in it, or so it seams. I could be the one with the anger that is being reflected by words that may or may not carry that same anger…though I assure you, I am not currently angry…though I’m sure if I tried hard enough I could find something to get pissed off about (like global warming melting my igloo…). The thought of taking someone else’s place in the world is something I’ve never actually thought of. I mean, I’ve always been quite fond of the idea behind reincarnation (though without belief) and thought about the whole concept of coming back time and again, but this is almost like an inverted reincarnation perspective, or something. When you think of reincarnation, it’s like just coming back and taking your old place in the world, whether in a different country, gender, or species there’s always supposed to be room for you. But the first stanza is about not having a place; it’s like a peculiar anomaly that is but shouldn’t be, which is extended upon later in the poem.

Stars! I love the stars, though I’m nothing of an astronomer. Doesn’t every kid grow up wanting to be an astronaut, even for a single moment in their lives? Stars are great, since they represent so much and yet they’re simply really big balls of gas some trillion odd miles away. They’re pointless to care about, if you think about it, and still we put so much meaning into them. Spirits, eyes, wisps of dust; these are only a select few images that I could think of on the spot that could be described by the stars. I personally use them a lot in my writing. Here, you’ve got them as almost a tribunal in a court, where the sky becomes the court. Rejected by the stars, the souls of all those who have passed before us, or the eyes of some nameless god…it’s the kind of thing that can really make a person feel wanted and loved, isn’t it? Gotta love rejection! I think, also, that a good majority of people, at some point in their lives (not myself included), have thought themselves to be some kind of mistake. What’s worse is that people are often told as much as well. But a “biological mistake” is different. That’s nature’s doing, like a deformed child or someone who is delusional and can’t tie their shoelace because it looks like a snake. The stars then, beyond the tribunal image, become peers and the sky our elders. It’s the same image, only a macrocosm I suppose you could say. Our peers are the one’s who judge us, but our elders are the ones who choose and carry out the punishments for wrongdoings…something like that.

Doctors are like the back-alley-style elders, in a sense. They still get punished, but they operate in a backwater sort of way, where many will simply jump to a conclusion as to what the diagnosis is and stick to it, regardless of reoccurring symptoms or new symptoms that hadn’t arisen at the time of diagnosis. Some are so dim that they can miss a number of broken ribs after the first x-ray, and only pick up two of the remaining three breaks in the second, only to leave the fourth break to be found by the third x-ray. Patients then, too, become disillusioned by their doctors because suddenly they’re sure there must be something wrong with themselves but the doctor can only find what the doctor thinks is there. Patients become “brainwashed” by the diagnosis, and can easily be fooled, like people who are convinced that they have asthma but don’t, though they need their “medicine” anyway…which is really just flavoured water (take IT, for example). It’s actually quite frightening to think what a doctor can really get away with as long as the patient is content with his or her condition/diagnosis…damn, now I’ve gone and thrown myself off-kilter…I don’t think I’ll be going to the doctor anytime soon, and just when I break my ankle too!

Obesity and anorexia; opposites and yet the narrator can’t tell the difference between the two. This reminds me of those nearly sickeningly think women who go around saying that they’re too fat, and I just sit there thinking, “Since when did anything higher than a size 4 become fat?” Of course, I suppose that’s my own cynical opinion. It’s like I said, I think that instead of say it. I generally keep my mouth shut about things like that, unless I have reason to do otherwise. But enough about that; if something shrinks when it grows, it could be said to be inverted, I think. Where the thing that’s growing isn’t what’s supposed to be growing, which is actually what is shrinking…if you know what I mean. To elaborate on that, take a nut for example; if I said that the nut inside the nutshell was shrinking as it grows, it could be argued that the nut isn’t growing, but the nutshell is…inward, crushing the nut inside. That could help to describe the feeling of being crushed by the world growing up around you in a limited space while you don’t grow with it, or something to that effect. The world has left the narrator behind because the world is following the “hologram for the masses” as you put it. Glamour, fashion, lifestyles; these are all fronts that we put on the either better express ourselves or to hide what we are. In most cases, however, despite any counter arguments, I think that people tend to use them to hide. Conformity, you know? Follow the rest of the herd of lemmings (do they even move in herds? Meh!).

Faithless and godless expresses being lost. I’m in that boat, to a degree, meaning I put my faith in myself rather than some good-for-nothing deity (they really are good for something, I just have no use for them). Confusion is being lost as well, lost in thoughts that don’t make sense or where you’ve never been before. So the three ideas go hand-in-hand almost, creating a chain link between them, and in that confused and lost state, there is no way of telling them apart…I suppose…hence the questioning of “whichever it is.”

Heresy and the cross, two ideas entirely associated with religion, where only if you believe do you find that either you or someone else has committed heresy, or that anyone should give a rat’s ass about perpendicular lines. If you lack the faith in the religion, if you don’t believe in god, than you don’t believe you’ve committed heresy, since heresy is a crime against the god in question (I think). The cross, invisible or not, is an emblem – a symbol of the church and of God and Jesus and whatever else you can dig out of the Bible with a fine-toothed comb. In other words, these two images conform to the confusion in the previous stanza, and link the two together. In fact, I’d probably go as far as to say that the second last stanza is 7 lines and the last only 3. Speaking of which, I suppose I should move on to those three lines now.

Death is one of my favourite topics! Yay dying! However, these lines move to the idea of dying, and may even tie into my earlier rantings about reincarnation. Now, despite the fact that death never really came up in the poem until now, it seems like the narrator had, at one time, considered suicide. I only say this because he/she uses the coming of death to compare to the “injected truths,” and that could only be carried out (the comparison) if both had been attempted, or at least considered. Injecting truths into oneself is like doing a drug, i.e. heroine or something like it. It’s forcing a chemical or bunch of ideals into your life and floating through it on some kind of high. I suppose the image then reflect the idea that the injected truths will not last, that eventually their falsities will rise to the surface and everything up till then will seem pointless or persistently erroneous. I don’t know, something like that.

And that’s just how I saw the world today! Tune in next week when I might have something good to say about the dirt that has built up around the cuff of my pant leg! Goodnight, everybody!

Okay, someone Please shoot me!

You know, I typed this in Word, and it’s currently three pages long. THREE PAGES! I did a word count, and guess how many: sixteen ninety-three! That’s outrageous! I could have handed this review in as an English paper during my first year and fit the minimum length of fifteen hundred words! They always wanted between fifteen hundred and two thousand, so this fits the bill.

Anywho, I’ve rambled quite enough, but I assure you, it’s only because you’ve usually got one or two for me to vent my ramblings on while I have a mammoth pile of dribble for you to throw around. The only difference is that there’s more going into your one than there is going into my fifty-three thousand or so. So enjoy this essay that I’ve just added to the collection of essays I’ve written you about your poems! There will probably be more to come, oh yes, there WILL be more! Muahahahahahahahahahahaha! Muaaaahahahahaha! Muah hack hack hack...hahahahahahahahaha! Oh, shoot me
mike chapter 1 . 4/20/2002
I'd say, that overall it's a good poem. I'm sorry that you feel this way...
erisedilla chapter 1 . 4/20/2002
How much of this is actually about you? I hope not alot (none dare I say?) Very true about today's culture... I read all this poetry and SO many people feel like this... It could almost be a metaphor for our society... goddless, fat on our own richness, self-obsessed, suicidal... all too true for SO much of our society... great job here, keep it up!


P.S. thanx for reviewing just about every one of my poems!
Phoenix Debonaire chapter 1 . 4/20/2002
Sha sha sha!

Good...the last two paragraphs are my favourite. "Out to get them". Also, "The adipose, shrinks as it grows".