The Paroxysm.

The Paroxysm

The Paroxysm…
Twisted tongue’s strain languages and cannot speak.
A gesture to wipe the blood from my poetically ridden face is commenced.
I live for a purpose. A theory, you could say.
In the definition of a poetical emotional attack.
The Paroxysm is in all of us. It feeds on our stress, our tears, and our anger. It lives off of our
happiness, our lust, our emotions in general.
It awakens you in the morning with sweat boiling down your cheeks.

The Paroxysm...
It is what brings waterfalls to your eyes, what allows blood to flow upon your face.
I wash the sins of my mind away. The Paroxysm took me over...
But my mind will flow poetry once again...I am free.
To do as I wish with the words that I choose. Free at last...free at last...
The tattered and torn robes upon my body are scarred with the critiques of my peers.
Judging poetry? Can you give a negative comment on something so pure?
How can a being say anything foul to the Paroxysm of poetry? The essence of emotional literature?
Curse those whom dare critique a piece of poetry!
For poetry is about the inner expression of thoughts and feelings.
It is all within the Paroxysm…

The Paroxysm…
You call yourself a poet, yet you judge other people’s poetry?
The irony in impeccable. How can an intellectual mind be so easily shattered?
The truth of poetry is everywhere. Your truth. Your opinion on how you write your own feelings
Upon the expression and aspects of your own work. Not someone else’s.
The theory of the paroxysm is reality.
It is staring you straight in the face. It is feeding itself on your emotion, and spitting it back out as an emotional attack on being’s senses.
It is the truth of how one reacts to poetry.
It is the vacuum in the back of your mind, which comprehends written work.
It is the part of your brain, which brings tears upon your pupils.
It is everything. For without the paroxysm, life would be bland.
No fear…
No happiness…
No anger…
No sadness…
Can we live life without such emotions?

It is everything…
It is nothing…
It is truth…
It is opinion…

It is………….

…………..The Paroxysm

Authors Note:I will not be checking this thread for replies. For I write for myself, not the views of others. I care not about your critisism, as you should tell from the piece itself. Your opinion matters only to you. Your critisism is your own truth. Believe what you will, and do not force opinions into others minds. For without the right to view poetry as one wants, what is the point?...

^that was a pathetic bunch of mumbo jumbo...

on the poem... way to grab a bunch of conjecture and attach it to the word paroxysm... this was the most basically written thing i've seen in a while... really you simply rambled on about something you obviously only have a rudimentary understanding of

on the author's note... wack your arrogance is absurd... as a college poetry major I am offended that you think that poetry is somehow above critique... that's a misconception, the fact is poetry can be good and bad.... you would benefit from knowing that at least one person isn't fooled by this... you think a poet can just always right in blank verse and have it come off as 'the deep and intricate inner thoughts' of a real poet? ...

I could go on and on about form, structure, meter scansion, sound, intent... blah blah blah... but hey the first rule of critiquing poetry is don't do it to somebody who doesn't want it... unless of course you'd like to discourage them from writing...

that is all

Nice job bloom it was a dencet piece I didnt catch the meaning of this that much.

look up paroxysm in a dictionary and you'll see how obvious the content is...