I rather enjoyed it.

Overbite

Not enough foreign languages.

You are incredibly to nigger for me.

joe. if you have been there, you should write about what happened. because this looks like bob dole wrote it. you should subtitle this 'refer madness : the reprise' or 'drugs are bad, mmkay?' no truth to it, and therefor, no vote.

I'm glad you liked it, it's still a little bit of a "scratchy" one. A "hermaphrodite pickle" is a penis that is so small, the man could be considered a hermaphrodite.

And you are way to fucking hello kitty and unimaginatively boring to be a poet, so I wouldn't quit your job waitressing if I were you, and I would start focusing on some obtainable goals that are a little more in your reach. Like managing a fast food franchise or a restaurant, or a day care center. I'm sorry to have to be the one tell you this, but unlike most, I am trying to be realistic and help you. If you are serious about a carreer in the entertainment field I suggest you move to La or New York immediately and get serious, because that's the first step, and I don't mean come out for a week to feel it out, it's a full time commitment, like poetry or anything else in life (parenting, marketing whatever, etc.). I mean It could take you 5 to ten years to make the connections and land the jobs and gigs that you feel you deserve as an entertainer. People just don't come out and strike gold in a year. It takes a lot of heart and consistency and a whole lot of luck and talent. On that note GOOD LUCK!

Man.. you need to look this over.. really.. because it looks like a chinese peasant with english as a second language wrote this. Plus, have you actually done drugs?..

i no longer cared for the bearded men or the fountain pen because I was lying naked in the turtle pond and I was surrounded.

crystal--this is forced, awkward language. you are tugging on the emotions of those who would skim the surface. if that satisfies you as a poet--thrashing out so much generic love-tripe, then, congratulations! you have truly become a poet! but, just for fun, why don't you look at the dirty side of things? why not admit a truth you wouldn't have had the courage to, once? why not show things in a revelatory light, instead of theater lights? why not show me real life, gritty with detail, instead of daytime TV? take off the rosy glasses. instead of admitting to yourself that you have the potential to be an addict, trot (or twirl, or tap, or what ever sort of dancing you do) down to a shelter, and teach a recovering addict word processing, or interview skills, or how to read. or maybe just rock a baby with aids. and then write this poem, if you have the balls to. warning--should you decide to test these waters, get the bonfire ready, because every single on of your innocent verses will be dancing high at F451.

if he/she makes you so alive, what triggers it? details, girl! god is in the details.

man. if i didn't know better, i'd say you have a major martyr complex. but i have read the rest of your work, and i know that you don't. and i wonder if you intended that tone for this piece? i wonder if you had a goal in mind when you wrote it? unusual line breaks do not a poem make.

once i have smelled my hands I cancel your plans for our dinner dates these aren't the hands of a private or a pirate or a caveman these are hands that have touched TheFartJam

the spray of salt in your eyes why do you say it is salty you can't taste it it is our future

ember twice is a mistake. And does the moon really glow like an ember? Seems to be a lot going on here, searching the grass/ the revenge/ the piano. Lots of nice phrases, not sure how it all fits together though

this has been said before, and better. thousands of times. show me something new.

A fine poem.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!! Bad metaphors, AUGH!!!!!!!

Damn, I was just about to do one of these called "alms for the armless".

Veins VEINS! you fucking idiot.