Shimmies her dress up. Other than that, uproarious.

I hate anything that contains Spanish-sounding names.

As always, I love this poem since it has a special meaning for you and I and a few others.

I hate it when you go to sleep but it turns out to be a Sleep of Death.

Scuiside is for Pussys who cant deal with their own problems Scuiside is the biggest form of cowadace

"A deliverer of birth." i've heard of a double negative, but a double positive? We can only pray you're raped by a ten foot nigger, and sold on the black market.

I was going to vote 0, but I was so bored and tired of reading it,I split the difference, since I didn't read it all, maybe there might have been some tiny semblance of talent.

Ouch. D.A., I'll admit you got a skillful satire going here for you, but its worse than reading tax form instructions. I'd give you a zero, cause 1 its not a poem or even cleverly disguised as one. 2 I had to force myself to read it. This isn't story ranker or humor ranker or as Has been pointed out to me prose ranker. Its poem ranker and since ranking this would mean I give it some stance as poetry I'm not going to.

"and the heroin plays guitar" from where a little seat on his spoon? The 'junky' you idiot.

wtf? okay.

Well, I say, not concrete, but a fine ode none the less.

Because I was in a fucking hurry, that's why, and it would take to long, here: A glimpse of light, you came into my life. Bright, beautiful, and splendid, but all too fleeting. I let the light shine upon me, enjoying it. Yet the light reflected off of me in ways that I know I cannot understand. The shine changed me, my visage. To all who could see, I had changed, and yet they never knew the me of before. The smile, a trick of light that shows the hairs on one's face. A young man becoming. Noticed, but still unknown. Showing up, but not to stand out. Now that the light is gone, yet again the faces change. Now in the dimness they still won't see why. They will not notice the fading shadow of said smile. They never knew you. For a while, I basked in your light. I eclipsed the truth I hid you as you requested. Now you retreat again. The light is gone, and the shadows have come back. Now I must become acustomed to the dark.

Interesting. Perhaps you could write a poem about how people attempt to explain the "salvation versus works" dilemma. The dilemma is stark. Religious fundamentalists, it seems, repeatedly fail in explaining why unsaved people should go to Hell, whilst Christian Humanists attempt to explain why unsaved people should not go to Hell. The poem could also deal with how the religious fundamentalist copes with the cognitive dissonance which seems such an inherent part of this dilemma. In my view, the cognitive dissonance may well be an inherent part of trying to rationally justify why one who has lived a life of moral excellence, yet who is unsaved, should be expected to spend an eternity in Hell. What do you think?

i like this. Your writing reminds me of one of my friend Shawn Simmons' writing. If you want to check out some of his writings or some other writers, go to the website k215.com click on the names on the left-hand side. I think you'd like their writing...

"But the fact is, everything you've said and probably everything you could possibly think of to say about -=Dark_Angel=- has already been said more wittily, concisely, accurately or enragedly by the members of the site who've been here for longer than two hours." THOUGH THIS MAY BE TRUE OF MYSELF AS WELL, I JUST HAVE A SIMPLE OLD FASHIONED "FUCK U" I ALWAYS CONSIDER THE SOURCE MR. WORST POEMS POSTED 4 TIMES..NOT ONCE, NOT TWICE, BUT FOUR!!! LMAOOO MORON

Forest is spelt with olny one r = forest

Dark Dreary and depressin I like It

Why did you suddenly flip? Your friend, --Doug

I Agree But I think tht when it comes to this world nobody really understands y things happen the way thy do

Riveting, very Mathers.