Final Poem: Charlie's at 3am

[synapticjava]

I'll cut this because it's a little long:



Charlie’s at 3am
Sweat beneath my fingertips
As I trickle them across my partner’s naked back.
Slick, sweet.
Solid around me.
The thumpa beat bouncing the dance floor
As one hundred pair of bare legs shuffle to the house music
Pumped out of hundred pair of hidden speakers.
Men blushing, as they grind against their partners,
At the words whispered/screamed into their ears.
White fog hissing out of the machine,
Cold, sticky, and damp.
Blue, red, and green neon lights
Sweeping frantically over the crowd,
Striking the mirrors and lighting up the bar
Before fading to black again for only a second.
The boys tending bar laughing
At the drunk hag being escorted out
As they mix another Jagerbomb.
The twink next to me
Tweaking on Tina,
Crying and laughing at the same time,
One hand clutching his crotch,
The other waving his cigarette like a flare.
Boys making out in the women’s washroom,
Chasing the tranny out with laughter.
Cowboy hats and leather harnesses
Rattling against the wooden poles.
Wanna-be Studio 54 scene queens
Writhing on the boxes,
No rhythm and no underwear
As they gyrate their Gucci jeans off their hips.
And this is still the best place in town on a Thursday night,
Charlie’s at 3am.

Comments

[strix-kojak.livejournal.com]

Nice.
Very descriptive.
I liky!

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

Danke, sweetness.

[wildflowerfever.livejournal.com]

*Poke* Do you like feedback when you post your work? I know I always hope for critique, but not everyone does.

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

sure, shoot

[wildflowerfever.livejournal.com]

I really like how specific this poem is-- you seem to evoke a real place. I think the form might be stifling it a bit, though. You're conjuring up such a fast paced, loud atmosphere, but the poem isn't broken up at all, and is mostly end-stopped. I'm going to do one of those line-by-line critiques, because otherwise I'm not sure I'll be making sense.

Charlie’s at 3am

Sweat beneath my fingertips
As I trickle them across my partner’s naked back.
Slick, sweet.
Solid around me.

This might be purely subjective, but I think I'd like to see the poem start after these lines. The "I" never comes back, and this poem doesn't seem dependent on it.

The thumpa beat bouncing the dance floor
As one hundred pairs of bare legs shuffle to the house music
Pumped out offrom one hundred pairs of hidden speakers.

Here, I was playing with deleting words in order to quicken the pace. I also really like how the hundred pairs of legs parallel the hundred speakers. Neat.

Maybe add a stanza break?

Men blushing, as they grind against their partners, I think the syntax gets too complicated here. It can be fixed by moving this phrase
At the words whispered/screamed love the slash into their ears, as they grind against their partners
White fog hissing out ofhisses from the machines,
Cold, sticky, and damp.

(So it might read: Men blushing at words whispered/screamed
in their ears as they grind against partners.
White fog hisses from machines
cold, sticky, and damp.)

Here's where I think playing with form might help your imagery.

Blue, 
      red, 
and green neon lights
Sweeping frantically 
over the crowd, Sstriking the mirrors 
and lighting up the bar Bbefore fading 
to black again
for only a second.

The boys tending bar laughing
At the drunk hag being escorted out
As they mix another Jagerbomb.

The twink next to me
Tweaking on Tina, sounds great
Crying and laughing at the same time,
One hand clutching his crotch,
The other waving his cigarette like a flare. Great

Boys making out in the women’s washroom,
Chasing the tranny out with laughter.
Cowboy hats and leather harnesses
Rattling against the wooden poles.

Wanna-be Studio 54 scene queens
queens writhing on the boxes,
No rhythm and no underwear Love this
As they gyrate their Gucci jeans off their hips. These lines are strangely beautiful

And this is still the best place in town on a Thursday night,
Charlie’s at 3am. I'm not sure about the last two lines. They might wrap it up too cleanly. The lines above these are so strong... I think they might be better. Maybe "still the best place on Thursday night" would work as a title?

[chocgood84.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I actually went back through and used a lot of your suggestions, they were very helpful.

I wound up changing the first stanza to:

Sweat beneath fingerips
trickling across a naked back,
slick, sweet.
Solid around me.

Took some of the perspective away.

[wildflowerfever.livejournal.com]

Meep. That was long... sorry!

(I think I miss workshop.)