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Lost Works

it is a place of grief and masochistic pleasure,
ghosts of Kafka,
haunted manuscripts
and burnt canvases

It bespeaks life,
death,
the caterpillar
and the snake
the moon
and her menses
things washed up by the tide
and things washed away

Nothing is created or lost in this universe.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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Comments

Not sure where this is taking us in thought "Kafka" are you talking about the German writer.??
The last line turns the piece into a reality of becoming aware that no matter what nothing is lost, maybe they change state but the original energy still drives the effect things have on individuals..
I like this one though should I ask for more??,
Yours as always Ian.T
PS;- Judyanne referred to "Kafta" in one of her works to do with cockroaches "The Metamorphosis" I think was the one she referred to but I wish that sometimes a footnote is used to enlighten other poets.

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

It is an extreme form of perfectionism where one either can't start to create, for fear of imperfection, or on creating anything destroys it for its imperfections.

This poem is about getting over it and the last line is pure physics.

ps all Kafka's surviving manuscripts are singed at the edges, where Kafka threw them in the fire and his best friend rescued them and submitted them to his publishers.

Unfortunately no one did that for me and much of my best work is lost.

cheers,
Jess
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Understand the problem of wanting to be perfect. My oldest brother, an artist,(or could be) will not create as he feels it will not be good enough, so he creates nothing. My late youngest brother, a poet, had constant writers block, and when he did write, it was so far out I could not understand any of it. Both brothers are so intelligent, as are you. your cloth is silk, I am just plain homespun cotton. Will read your writing again. Enjoyed. Linda

He who conquers self , has won a great battle

It is more common than recognised.

cheers,
Jess
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It was you that was singed on the edges, and I hope we did retrieve you from the fire, it seems like it, as your work is now becoming better and there seems to be more breadth in your writes..
Also a more gentleness in you critique, great work Young man.
Yours as always Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

though I feel irrationally guilty admitting it.
Finally finding my voice and place again. A large portion of thanks for that goes to you. Your unstinting, unconditional love and support has been an incredible boon, gobsmacking considering I have never met you or heard your voice,
much love,

cheers,
Jess
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is a very specific that, if you read it that way. Yeah, it bothers me, whilst I like it in a perverse way, I will look into that.

As to the word causing the problem, no way! When I first heard the word it made sense of my dilemma and I was able to work past it. Not all of us are anti-intellectual snobs who refer to the gut alone and despise naming.

You really do, you know. You might care to look at that.

cheers,
Jess
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better, think you?

ok, I acknowledge your growth but you didn't listen to me.
Once I recognised and named the undoubtedly existing condition I was able to get over it. I now triple backup all my works and post works that I know are well below par but might have potential.

cheers,
Jess
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No eating disorders, just bipolar and variously well managed addictions.

cheers,
Jess
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I have always loved me tucker, neither overeating or starving myself or purging, just enjoying! My sensuality knows no bounds.

cheers,
Jess
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well written
poetry

I remember burning tons of poetry
and throwing my writings away in garbage bags
for the dustmen

Thank You!

you still set the standard for brilliantly free verse.

cheers,
Jess
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Hi Jess,

Troubled by the Kafkaesque overtones. Failure can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. However, have also lost the muse as works- in- progress at Neopoet! Nothing more horrible than feeling the flow of lovely words set free into the digital ether, lost and never retrieved. C'est la vie. Shit happens, get over it.

Love the lines '...the moon/ and her menses/ that deposited by the tide/ and that washed away'...

Try faking being happy.

Ells x

I recognise a somewhat kafkaesque tone, but to me the overall feeling was one of hope.

Had a lifetime of faking happiness. It's too tiring.

cheers,
Jess
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And the intensity
Since most of my works are just tomfoolery

I think your works achieve more than tomfoolery, we are often our own worst judges.

cheers,
Jess
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of caterpillar and snake, in context, metamorphosis and renewal, also Ouroboros, the World Snake with it's tail in its mouth. Pretty common symbols, and nothing phallic/Freudian.

Hmm, that last line is a piece of physics, pretty crucial to cosmology, perhaps I should give it a reference or citation.

Regarding atelophobia, ignore Crud, recognising it doesn't cause it, it's the first step to beating it, and beatable it is.

cheers,
Jess
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I don't ignore you generally, though I critique your work less often than it deserves, that is just my difficulty in reading and responding at the moment, I have neglected several of my favourite poets of late.

I enjoy our differences but never think I don't respect you immensely, Mr Crud, I am waiting for a break in my suddenly over-worked life to give proper attention to your ' a conflict of words'

cheers,
Jess
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well I have stopped worrying about your grieving processes jess
this poem to me has so much hope in it
it is uplifting

one of the best i have read from you in a while

I just love
‘things washed up by the tide
and things washed away
… Nothing is created or lost in this universe’

lol – it is all there- somewhere…

love the references to the snake and caterpillar, but I appreciate especially the one to Kafka, not only for the allusion to perfectionism, but also with the associated words – ghosts, haunted… which that man certainly was, and many great artists are…

but lol - so many poets threw away great works – I’ve heard a few stories of poems rescued from the bins by friends/assistants… Rudyard Kipling’s ‘The Recessional’ being one…

great write jess
love judy
xxx

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

I totally chuffed, you really got it!

cheers,
Jess
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