The fickle sky presses
Against the glass of the windows
And the dry strung up heat of the winter sun
Spilled over the anemic asphalt
Our shadows seared into the bottom of our sneakers
Moving with a sort of blithe nonchalance
Searching for the speckled grey of a familiar horizon
The apathetic footsteps and my clenched hands
Quiver beneath the setting sun’s bloody smear
Across the over populated sky
That was no longer clear
Rather it was the looking glass phenomena
Spread eagled across my retinas
And during those grief stricken days spent
Hanging off your rooftops and skylines
I've contemplated replacing
my heart with another
Liver so I can
Drink more and care less
And I can vow that sleeping is only
For the dead or at least
The heavily medicated and sadly
I can no longer tell the difference between
Firstly this poem is an abstract account of my life, so yeah it's technically non fiction butchered into metaphorical drunken, sleep deprived babble. I don't know whether it's good or not but hey that's life, anyway below is some info on a mook I thought it was kinda cool and I've been wanting to use the idea for a while so here it is.
A little bit of background on the "Mook"There are many meanings/definitions of the word "Mook"
Here are some I liked the most:
Mook can also mean an insignificant character whose passing is often part of the story and the audience is often unsympathetic to that passing.
The term mook or jamook is Italian American slang for an annoying, stupid, undesirable person
Mook is a term originating from Chinese media that refers to either an unimportant character or a mean one
A "mook" is also disagreeable or incompetent person. - A character whose contribution to the story is negligible. (or) - A static self-centered character whose purpose in the story is to obstruct other characters by either being clumsy, foolish, greedy, evil, obtrusive, or a combination of those elements.
It can also be represented as a bird. Which is the image I had in mind when I wrote this.
That awkward moment when you realize you're a real life mook.
I actually really like this. Your vocabulary use is excellent, as is your use of imagery. As someone else said, it is gritty and realistic and I'm sure many can relate to it.
On an artistic side, the way the lines were broken up bothered me slightly. If I read it as prose instead, I love it. I feel that it should be a poem however, so I'm not sure where to place the line breaks to make it perfect.
The words are fantastic nonetheless.
My favorite line would have to be "Our shadows seared into the bottom of our sneakers". The whole poem is just gorgeous, though. Brilliant.
Whether you're winning or losing, it is important to always be yourself. You can't change because of the circumstances around you. "Cotton Fritzsimmons"
You are important to if nothing else then to me you are the person I have been able to talk to and confide in, you have and are kind, helpful, and imaginative. Better yet I know not what story you may be reading yet in mine the !passing! of such a friend would be devastating to say the least.
Not only in this piece but others have you shown you ability to create heart felt and soul renching works that in my opinion surpasses other "dusty" great works.
Fantastically gritty work , good that you can be personal about your poetry too =>
Wow. I really don't have much experience critiquing; right now words are rather failing me. I do like the double meaning of 'mook' here-- one is left with both the impression of a bird, and someone whom others push away and dislike.