Then she took off her wig and said FBI freeze pedo guido!

i'm not getting it. i came back many timnes. it works, but it is far-too open-ended for me. call me simple. i like things spelled out more.

Hilarious

remove the ' in worlds, grammar boy.

Since I now what your writing of I feel I have an unfair advantage. I did also suggest a simple two step, without clothes I might add.

I just can't stop thinking about this poem. I really believe you should develop this into a short story. I mean the kids, you know, they're such natural poets. Everything they do is poetry. That last line is so profound because it is a reality. You're was inspired by the love in her itty-bitty soul(for lack of a better word) I want to know the whole story. There's so much scenery here. A protest, a backyard swing. Please write this story. Write it for me, please. I know you can do it, you're in tune.

Wow, nice finishing. This one builds. The second line takes a needless turn into cliche-ville. It's a distracting detour, can you please think about re-working this?

Fan fucking tabuless. Some tiny things for flow,like the first parantheticals is that statement neccessary? with optimistic images of the profane Hows about- with optimistic profane images Gray fan oscillating(edit out- at the foot) You know stuff like that. Nip here nip there. Give it a go. See if you like it more. The last stanza and that switch-a-roo is wonderful writing. You're good.

Well, well. I don't know why this poem has gotten such low ranks? It's totaly self absorbed and uninteresting. I love it!

This sounds a bit like a poem Kenneth Patchen wrote after waking up at 1 in the morning for a drink of water. Seems to move along fine and then the layering part breaks up the image.

Philadelphia Freedom was much more effective. i too hate all white people. and fat white people even more. And fat white English people even more. And fat white English people who buy up beachfront property in Spain. Those are the worst. The very worst white people.

Rather young and falling into melodrama. Seems to be full of statement like prose rather than any well defined images.

la de da de da de la. kill yourself poems are not so good, unless you like the high school food. i loved you once but now i don't, so please call me. please.

This is the poetry of a Jethro Tull fan with a shit happens T-shirt tied around their bald pot bellied head. You can find my e- mail on my homepage Einstein, and you can find out all you need to know about me with a good google. Let me know when your coming, I'll put out my wheel chair ramp and turn on the porch light.

Since I now what your writing of I feel I have an unfair advantage. There needs to be more length (not in reference to the poem but to protagonist) The use of force, the speed of the kill. The power and presure of this wonderful creator. I really enjoy the ice cream shop and the piles of husks, though I'm a little confused by "the inchor inside me..." I'll have to show you my pictures.

"On the night of the moon We kissed again with tears" As opposed to the night of the 'no moon' listing with beers? "Sorry at times you’ve crossed the threshold of grief" The last time I crossed the threshold of grief, I had to put my bride down for a minute to get my wheels over the molding. "Wanting to become you for brief moments To feel all that you feel and want all that you need You are the rose upon my bloom yes my Rose And gently I’d remove your petals like cloths" Wait a minute... Let me get out my Capt. Crunch decoder... yes, just as I suspected. You have a sever fear of rejection coupled by the weight of the idea that you are a burden to those around you that you love. Yet you are so full of pride and blinded by the American stereo type of what a father figure and a husband's supposed to be yo can barely sleep at night or look at yourself in the mirror. that's a horrible way for you to live man, and all in your mind. What a shame. have you tried viagra and just letting the past go? Well then again, you're not very bright I gather because of your inebility to locate my e-mail, or address to beat me up when it's in plain site, not to mention the fact that a child could, left handed, see where I live and who I am In seconds upon the web these days since that information isn't secret, or you could get my # from Z. Shit man there's all kinds of ways for you to beat me up, or are you as incompitent at problem solving as you are at poetry? Pardon me, my mother just called out to me for lunch, I'm five, I have to go now, today's peanut butter and jelly surprise. The surprise is MURDER. Yippe, and bye Tom.

A square starts wit S. A mattress starts with M. why cum and not come. Why come and not orgasmic shot of burning hot salty love spew. I think that would work better.

It's about fucking time. These murder poems are just too vague. Of course the writing is good ,of course it is, you can't help that, but what exactly is this about? I want that last becoming to mean more, weigh heavier. Can you please add a little more heft?

nicely put.

heheheheh. fuck yeh.