the October country

[Pent uP]

The October Country

Sniffles from her face are heard; She asked with quizzical anger
"how do you teach dogs to swim?" She fixed an abysmally fake smirk
then finished the riddle with a little visual frame work:
"Throw the pup in the water and let it rely on instinctual nature"
I was left split into vapors - a fly on the wall of a dream.
A house fit for Gates with a fake grotto and stream -
where Momma would be: holding the whelp in a worried position.
Hands under the shoulders while the bitch is squirming and kicking
- but it was as useful as training courier pigeons.
Swift as Flash, with a splash, she was on the verge of perdition
when she hit the water and yelped as she nervously shifted...
Every muscle of mine surged and it stiffened. Her fur and her whiskers
drooped low and made her furious intent soon known.
The blue hues sewn as waves of her permanent distress.
Words were nothingness: the image was sequestered in topics.
My mom snapped me out of the picture with her breath full of toxins
when she decided to switch metaphors due to feminine logic -
"We're just birds migrating through life - so head for the tropics
and keep your feathers exotic."
The advice seemed semi-psychotic. I'd readily drop it
but she was there pensively watching.
I'm focused on atonement and growing when every moment is life changing.
Infuriated by the words related in a scolding that I'm taking.
Frozen alive - folding my pride while exploding with vile statements
in retaliation.
Dreams crash and break when going the mile changes
to a slowly declined stasis that opens the mind matrix
and festers questions like 'where is home when we're migrating.'

She wants none of it. Her examples are of limitless freedom.
She doesn't see experience as something that's built up or beefed up.
I'm literally stuck - weighed down by the bulge in my throat -
and from the neck up I'm waiting for a gun to explode.
Rifles and violence aren't for hunting for homes
so I'm stuck praying for prey with nothing but stones.
She's got scruff in her tone from disesteem and disdain.
A quiver in her lip as she said "I haven't lived my dreams to this day
but I'm fit to leave and live great once you fix your means to get paid."
The words echoed physically - creating an itch that feels like mistakes.
The filth I've gleaned from risks made a dent in behaviors -
Standoffish, but I stand honest in front of these detrimental relations.
Her voice feels like its devoid of might and begging for favors
but her mannerisms land near livid and feel steadily stranger.
Gently, unangered, her words struck a fervent nerve when saying
"I've fed you more closely than a bird regurgitating.
I've led us to love and humility but you led the flock to crumble;
If feathers were balls you could stand to drop a couple.
It's time I popped your bubble." That got my thoughts to fumble.
My jowls flared as she let out a pule she forgot to muffle.
"You've got to jump off cliffs," she blurted passed her breath,
"and build your wings on the way down."
So I turned my back and left.

[dull boy]

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=218iXiKhKlg

[Smooth]

hahah wow the vocab you use here is great man

how do you teach dogs to swim?" She fixed an abysmally fake smirk
then finished the riddle with a little visual frame work:
"Throw the pup in the water and let it rely on instinctual nature"
I was left split into vapors - a fly on the wall of a dream.
A house fit for Gates with a fake grotto and stream -
where Momma would be: holding the whelp in a worried position.
Hands under the shoulders while the bitch is squirming and kicking
- but it was as useful as training courier pigeons.
^ this is awesome lol

overall this verse is fire. Raw and funny as hell but quite elegantly pieced together. Congrats on a keeper man

[PancakeBrah]

Read this quite a few times just to make sure I got the story/characters/message straight. Not to say it was too complicated; it wasn't. But the way you relied on metaphors (which I'll get to later) and your use of pronouns to start the piece just disoriented me a bit. Probably just me. But I eventually got there with this. Now that it's all aligned in my head this was a good piece of writing. I'm not exactly sure of your timeline. In my read through it seemed like one-sitting between the two characters, with the mother being drunk, distressed, and scattershot before finally landing on her point. But I could see how this could be three different conversations; the dog and bird metaphor in the first verse and then the final conversation making up the entire last verse. It works both ways so the difference is a bit academic. From what I understand this is essentially about a mother telling her son that it's time to strike out on his own, while exploring her emotional reaction. The son is really a secondary, almost unimportant character, in terms of the actual meat of the piece even though he's the vehicle for it. Although a quick and cursory reading of this piece would probably give the reader the impression of epicness, or of it being more epic than it really is, this was really a staid verse, but in the best way. You had an idea and you explored it with nuance. Instead of action you instead looked around. Vertical writing instead of horizontal. I think writers here get to caught up in the narrative; this is a narrative but it's about the emotion and characters, with three touchstones (the conversations/metaphors). At first the 'split into vapors' idea confused me, the transition was a bit weird. But the 'mom snapped me out of the picture' clarified it; it was the exploration of the son's fear of leaving the nest, in his imagination, using the metaphor his mother just said. That's how I read it, could be wrong. I think you did paint the mother as a very uneven and unhinged character; 'breath full of toxins' and 'semipsychotic' tell that plainly and some other more subtle bits of wording help support that idea. You also did well in painting the son's confusion. Re-reading this again for feed I guess I was a bit off in saying the son was really secondary; he's fleshed out pretty well.

"I'm focused on atonement and growing when every moment is life changing."

"so I'm stuck praying for prey with nothing but stones."

Both of those lines do a good job of detailing the uneasiness and lack of confidence the son has in being on his own. The second quoted line in particular was good; it was in tune with the animal metaphors you've set up and basically said that the son wasn't prepared for life (real life) because he doesn't have the proper tools to succeed. It can be inferred that this is due to the very mother he's talking to.

""I haven't lived my dreams to this day
but I'm fit to leave and live great once you fix your means to get paid.""

In my reading and re-reading this piece this was, obviously, where it all started to click. You lose the metaphors and start working in the concrete. This also lends itself well to the final line she speaks. Also, the logic behind this sentence gives more nuance and detail to the type of woman the mother is. I'm not sure if you intended for this to be a 'true' statement but I read it as delusional; the mother's basically blaming her son, or family for her own lack of satisfaction with life when in all reality it's probably her fault. Finding an excuse and a reason why everything isn't perfect. Second line speaks to that perfectly. Like I said, I'm not entirely sure if I'm supposed to be viewing this mother character as negatively as I am but the fact you wrote she had a 'breath full of toxins' and the son instinctively imagines her basically drowning him leads to me to believe that's the route you want the reader to take. Could be wrong. Also; 'steadily stranger' adds to that.

""I've fed you more closely than a bird regurgitating.
I've led us to love and humility but you led the flock to crumble;
If feathers were balls you could stand to drop a couple.
It's time I popped your bubble." That got my thoughts to fumble.
My jowls flared as she let out a pule she forgot to muffle.
"You've got to jump off cliffs," she blurted passed her breath,
"and build your wings on the way down."
So I turned my back and left."

I think you nailed the landing. The abrupt ending was great. Some people may have wanted a bit more; an explanation of what happens next for the protagonist. But this was basically a snapshot capturing a critical juncture of a relationship. Anything written after the next line would have been superfluous in my mind.

As for overall mechanics in your verse, I'd lean towards 'strong' but with a few rhymes that were a little off to me. Nothing egregious; it was one or two at the most. The flow was solid throughout; it was aided by the content. I was interested in the narrative so it lead to the piece reading smoothly to me. Your wording was a strong point throughout and the use of vocabulary was strong but never overbearing.

Good piece.

[Scripter]

This was excellent! From what I got from this piece in the beginning it seemed to be about a mother who did not know how to raise a child. Which to me was her asking the question
"how do you teach dogs to swim?"
It then seemed like in her drunken haze she just kicked her out into the cruel world to fend for herself. Which made sense of these lines.
"Throw the pup in the water and let it rely on instinctual nature"
Although the family seemed to be well off which was described by
"A house fit for Gates with a fake grotto and stream"
It seemed her mom tried to teach her but she became frustrated with her pup which to me was described in these lines, which also identified the dog as the child as well.
"holding the whelp in a worried position.
Hands under the shoulders while the bitch is squirming and kicking
- but it was as useful as training courier pigeons.
Swift as Flash, with a splash, she was on the verge of perdition
when she hit the water and yelped as she nervously shifted...
Every muscle of mine surged and it stiffened. Her fur and her whiskers
drooped low and made her furious intent soon known."
The next part seems to describe the child or puppy drowning.
"The blue hues sewn as waves of her permanent distress.
Words were nothingness: the image was sequestered in topics.
My mom snapped me out of the picture with her breath full of toxins
when she decided to switch metaphors due to feminine logic -"
I seen the next part as her mother trying to breath life into her in more then one way
"My mom snapped me out of the picture with her breath full of toxins
when she decided to switch metaphors due to feminine logic -
"We're just birds migrating through life - so head for the tropics
and keep your feathers exotic."
The advice seemed semi-psychotic. I'd readily drop it
but she was there pensively watching."
This seems to describe confusion and being torn down to be built back up so that the mother pup can face the world alone to me.
"I'm focused on atonement and growing when every moment is life changing.
Infuriated by the words related in a scolding that I'm taking.
Frozen alive - folding my pride while exploding with vile statements
in retaliation.
Dreams crash and break when going the mile changes
to a slowly declined stasis that opens the mind matrix
and festers questions like 'where is home when we're migrating.'"
In the next part it seems to describe the child retaliating against everything she had learned or had been taught, angry and depressed about the situation, but still prideful of who she is.
"She wants none of it. Her examples are of limitless freedom.
She doesn't see experience as something that's built up or beefed up.
I'm literally stuck - weighed down by the bulge in my throat -
and from the neck up I'm waiting for a gun to explode.
Rifles and violence aren't for hunting for homes
so I'm stuck praying for prey with nothing but stones.
She's got scruff in her tone from disesteem and disdain.
A quiver in her lip as she said "I haven't lived my dreams to this day
but I'm fit to leave and live great once you fix your means to get paid."
In the next part it seems to describe her transitioning from feeling pity for herself to realizing her new owned strengths and how much her mother really did care.
"The words echoed physically - creating an itch that feels like mistakes.
The filth I've gleaned from risks made a dent in behaviors -
Standoffish, but I stand honest in front of these detrimental relations.
Her voice feels like its devoid of might and begging for favors
but her mannerisms land near livid and feel steadily stranger.
Gently, unangered, her words struck a fervent nerve when saying
"I've fed you more closely than a bird regurgitating.""
The final part seems to show the daughters stubbornness, in which her mother put in her. While the daughter believed that it didn't have to be the way it was. but still her mother replying to grow balls and try, telling her daughter to take risks, telling her she would no longer help her.
"I've led us to love and humility but you led the flock to crumble;
If feathers were balls you could stand to drop a couple.
It's time I popped your bubble." That got my thoughts to fumble.
My jowls flared as she let out a pule she forgot to muffle.
"You've got to jump off cliffs," she blurted passed her breath,
"and build your wings on the way down."
So I turned my back and left.


This was truly amazing! I very much enjoyed this story and have read it several times. I don't even have the words to describe how brilliant this was. Thanks for sharing this!

[Eŋg]

even though i was born in november i dug this. nah but seriously this was a fair bit better, once it got going, than your shit last week, imo. your shit last week was good though. js this is more what i would expect from you. a worthy representation of your caliber. a sharper draw of your sword from its sheathe. i would break it down but i need bed and tbh i'm posting here because it was my idea to give one of you sorry motherfuckers feed. nobody fed my no show verse last week. it's here though btw. i am such a martyr. should return to edit with some actual, relevant comment.

it was good though +1

how do you pronounce anger though? the mind boggles.

[Geno]

Read this I n its entirety. You already know my standings on it. Pent da gawd all day.
Soon as I quit bullshitting and write something its definitely goonna be a collab that I'm sending to you. Prolly a pic topic. I'm looking for that hof status from it. Sry I've been slacking. But I'm getting back into writing and will go ballistics on something soon.

This is a dope ass piece man. Thanks for sharing it with me

[Lars]

dope as fuck, loved the transitions

good to see you've still got it

[Split]

Cool.

A lot better, in some ways, than the last piece of yours I voted on. The rhyme placement was more natural. Some slick metaphors, outside of the mothers lol. You did a fantastic job of developing thoughts according to your narrator's intuition in response to the mother's dialogue... advanced form of characterization that builds a character's personality from the inside out.

Another strength was the theme that perhaps our eventual belief that our parents do not know what is best for us, is a function of their no longer shielding us from the harsh realities and sublime unfairness of the independent, adult world.

Great interpretation of the topic. Idk if you are shaking off rust, or just hitting a groove, but each drop from the past few weeks has been an improvement over the last.

One suggestion/ negative- you should use commas more, or vary your sentence structure a bit. I thought the first couple sentences of the second 1/2 of your verse were most fluid, and I think it's because the hyphens and short line lengths bring in a natural emphasis on stressed/unstressed syllables in an aesthetic way

[Pent uP]

even though i was born in november i dug this. nah but seriously this was a fair bit better, once it got going, than your shit last week, imo. your shit last week was good though. js this is more what i would expect from you. a worthy representation of your caliber. a sharper draw of your sword from its sheathe. i would break it down but i need bed and tbh i'm posting here because it was my idea to give one of you sorry motherfuckers feed. nobody fed my no show verse last week. it's here though btw. i am such a martyr. should return to edit with some actual, relevant comment.

it was good though +1

how do you pronounce anger though? the mind boggles.

Aing (like pain +g without a p) grr

[Pent uP]

Moar please

[Frank]

Good shit kid, I enjoyed the quality of this. Some great wording and some emotional strings being plucked like the golden harp of Aeolian.

Dog metaphor was really a slight, referring to your mother as bitch. And then later comparing her to a bird.

Mommy loves you kid. Good shit

[Pent uP]

So I figured if frank can be a dbag and up his own shit without consequences then so can I

[sacrifice]

Nasty. Simply dope.

I'm reading through shit tonight, then dropping feed over the next few hours.