How does the title imply a soup kitchen? Being soupless.

I concur.

Yes, you were drunk. And it shows.

caducus, this is way over the top. you are trying too hard. one exapmle--the last line: "Her crimson scythe of violence." the word 'scythe' gives the reader violence implied. her crimson scythe of a smile/aagainst my lips/etc. take out so many of the replications and make the poem like the sea where a skipping stone touches it, so the reader assembles it's flight in his mind from the splahes on the surface. touch lightly, and let your audience feel the depth beneath your meaning.

SERIOUS POEME COMMENT CORNER 1. Remove "previous". 2. It's "its". 2. "Feebile" is not a word.

BEST POEME I HAVE SEEN SINCE THAT ONE ABOUT A CHEERLEADER AND A CHEESEBURGER OR SOMETHING. P.S. NO, I DID NOT WRITE THIS.

why bother? we could use the extra oxygen at the rate we're hacking down trees.

I think you should draw up a petition and gather up enough signatures to send along to Nentwhistle. Only then can we get DA off this site once and for all and stop him from hurting everyone's feelings. He has hurt mine so many times I cannot even begin to tell you. Okay, well, just one. It was late at night. I think it was Saturday and I had been drinking a little but not enough to where I was anything more than tipsy. And I had been working on this poem about my dear dead mother for 40 days and 40 nights. I even went out into the desolate dirty sands of Death Valley to conjure her spirit as a muse. You know, Electra complex. But in this case you could call it some form of ghostly...well, you get my point. So, anyway, I finally finished it. And I was so proud I called all my peeps and read it over the phone. It was 4am, mind you, but that was not an issue. THEY understood. And THEY loved it. Every word. I believe I made two peeps cry and that never happens, not in my neighborhood here on the mean streets of Misery. So I finally got up the courage to post it . And no more than two minutes past before that ominous blue 0 appeared. Then another, and another. And then a green one. And then another blue one. It was awful. DA may not vote for real, but he/she is the master of the blue vote. And then he/she left a comment saying my poems had -=aids=- or something and that as it read it made him feel like breaking wind and pooing and eating it!!!!!!!!!!!!1 Oh THE HORROR. I cried. I called the police. SLANDER, I cried. We must stop him. Let's ban together at once. Put the fangs in; dress in black. It is the only way. We must whine, cry, bitch, and moan three times more than we are already doing. It is the only way. The only way.

Too too many words. Edit the crap (literally) out of this.

The las two lines have individual potential, but together it's obscure beyond recognition.

I would like to take issue with the following phrases: 1. "a child trapped inside a man": I do not know what you were thinking of here, but it is most certainly illegal, if not anatomically unlikely. Please correct this at once. 2. "You can only look in my eyes by turning away". The only ways this could work are a) the person has eyes on their rear side, b) you and the person are arranged such that there is a barrier directly between you, but an elaborate system of mirrors allows him to view the reflection of your eyes if he turns away. Neither of these have been mentioned. Please fix. 3. "All you hear is silence": Buncombe. Thanks, I'll be here all week.

Sincerity gets you everything. Cannot not say too much about the craft here, but the sentiment is in the right place. It is just trying to find images to go with it. Maybe try to go back in to the lines and think about what you are saying and maybe try to create and image or a metaphor to convey those feelings. But on it's own, it is sweet at best.

I want pictures.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. More heavy-handed nonsense. Do you think about what you write? The phrasings are infantile. Goth poetry. Do you read Stan Rice? Ann Rice? Ben Rice? You fall victim to telling way too much, and when you do pop out an image it barely makes sense. There is symbolism and then there is just gibberish. You have perfected the latter here.

Haahaahaa! Funny! Oh, mirth! Here-I don't rank so poorly.

666 the mark of the yeast.

strong finish

you are to soda, what a straw is to ass fucking. did i say soda? i meant cream of wheat.

Shuffling hobos Mumble incoherently-- Perhaps they're zombies.

so what you're saying is...don't talk to strangers..unless they have candy?