It turns out just like a shelless meatloaf taco should. Like a pile of leftover shit on a warm plate.

complemented not complimented?

Question: How do know you've hit a homerun out of Shitsvilles' muddy diamond? Answer: When your arch enemy Horus8 of the clan of eight. your sworn nemesis, gives you your highest vote yet on your new poemie. I know somewhere in that greasy briquette of carbon, you call your heart, you love me.

Close, but no. Funny though. This would be the limerick of what you've said. Here's a new kind of therapy I call "bullet psychology". If you need a cure This one is for sure A free 22 calibur lobotomy

Ahhh, more glowing lovers in the darkness. Too wordy for my taste, I'll let others vote. Maybe later when I'm intoxicated, I mean if I'm intoxicated, I mean when. The (Sounds O' Shakespeare) is just too too juvenile for you Mr. Black with the big fat Candlestick in the Bedroom.

When he found me... We fucked like there was no tomorrow, and I bore him a proud dead baby nigger jew. Oh shit! Ha! Ha! I even made myself cringe on that one. Ha! ha!. I am foul. I am evil. I am the penised mother of a dead nigger baby Jew. Well folks, you know what this means? Hell, for sure, but for now a bar of ivory soap and a spanking.

sweet father of nearsighted little-leaguers!

Exemplary. Text-book Pimple.

wicked hot!

You make Paris sound like Jack the Ripper lives there. what the hell is a lover lit park? Tell me!

I for one, believe this is perfect, especially the title. It's Valentine's not Valentines. 10's for you.

I guess the ranker has hit it's stride once more, what a relief. things sure were crappy around here for a while. As good a poem as I have ever read. Inspired "I don't like to touch you either" multi-meanings and a nice strong bite to it. I love that line so much I wish I had invented it myself.

Really, I am shallow and cannot get past the fact that you are an unshaven woman. I am sorry. Forgive me. I knew that plum was yours but I ate it anyway. Besides my narrow-minded view, which again I apologize for, I am quite fond of this.

the last line is very weak, in light of your set-up.

Remeber, poetry is a way for people to get a good look at themselves even the blind get to see their hideous reflections. It's not for the weak of constitution mind you. So far, you're pissed off because I gave your spider poem a six and declined to vote on any of your others. Perhaps, you feel that since I'm 28, and lacking tits and ass and empathy for the overwhelming amount of congealing shit poets to the bottom of my hoof, and since I'm younger than your fat flat Harley Davidson ass, I know not how to instruct a servant to the grind about the wonders of poetry? Sir, I regret to inform you that Arthur Rimbaud was a mere seventeen year old dandy when he wrote a book that changed the planet (more inportantly he toppled off the old guard with one big swoosh). Manly P. Hall was 23. Skill is formed with dilligence and humility not hallmarkian crocodile tears my good man, and I gurantee to you that I've spent more time studying poetry than you have sleeping it off. I have earned the ability to fan tail my ass accordingly and prance around as bachanal as one can possibly become in 3 decades. It's a sacrifice, I know, the way I gloat and tweek my own nipples whilst cackeling the gay loon, but friend, know this, it's because I love you and it hurts me more than it hurts you.

wow, I like it. The line about the "book where the beloved character dies in chapter three" is a nice touch.

Oxycute em.

I love you too, now come here.

haha this is great

Could you possibly not inform me as to the current condition of your tampon, bless you, Rusty.