i don't want prunes, they make me runny, is my whine to be for a weaker vessel?

or is the whine from a weaker vessel.

p&k, you're fired up tonight.

no extra charge tonight? feeling is free? damn. too bad yer over the pond...

Jesus, will you guys just get a room already.

but you suggested we have the chocolate first, i wont be rushed. But yes maybe rat-o-van would suffice

Has its moments. Like marital lies petrify, but I think the poem lollygags in cutely designed rhythms. Ii guess I just like poetry with an edge. Something to smack me up side the head. But this just doesn't do it. And it is not funny.

"I don't expect you people to like this,because infact you all are mean!" This is the best line in the poem (minus the typos). Nevertheless, I am going to try to give a "constructive assessment." 1) Creeping silence sounds like something off one of those crazy bands those kids listen today. Plus, silence speaks for itself; it doesn't need to have an adjective necessarily. 2) Do you really understand what the depths of "madness" are? You sound rather young; are you sure it is just not a long bout of teen angst. You know that is what the world needs now. Madness (i.e. depression, bi-polar and the like) is an extremely complex condition both biologically and psychologically and requires much more imagery than throwing a glass to the floor in some sort of angry fit. 3) The choking imagery doesn't seem to have much weight. Can you really choke on life or a pathetic defense and what is the pathetic defense in the poem. Okay, I cannot go on anymore. I tried and you can take this advice if you what to. Or you can just delete the fucking poem.

we're not mean, we're just drawn that way. but seriously, what were you trying to say? that she's depressed? does her self pity overpower her so that she has not the strength to end it? i'm not saying that every protagonist has to be a hero, or even an anti-hero, but i'd like them tto do something other than dress goth and moan about how awful it all is. wooden shoe?

that will be 'in the ice cream', trussed up nicely with some steamy-hot chocolate sauce. oh dear, who's being greedy now? i like my petits vanilla, thank you very much. although cheese and port never seems to fail, either.

What you cannot come up with your own shit to say. Fuck it, if you can call it what it is then what the point. What are you, some fucked up Englishman who tries to save every trite fucking wannabes feeling. Tell them to get some fucking skin. If you want to show your poetry, send out your poetry, or let people read your poetry, then you better expect someone to come along and say it is shit. Quit being a wuss. If this poem were good, I would have said so. And what I said was constructive. She can get a job paying her 40K a year to write this shit.

Calm down tiger, you ripe my heart out. don't say such things. simply resort to calling me a hallmark card, its an fequently used insult on this site, i was simply providing a helpful cut and paste area, for the supernaturally talented and inspired to use. If it is of no use please feel free not to, use it that is, unless it is of, in which case do, feel free i mean

Yes the englishman retort. What a classic i simply don't know which way to turn, you have me their my good sirah (sorry zz i know that sirah is yours but i thougt in the spirt of sharing , ye know)

Fine Venusdemillo: I am sorry for the cliched use of Hallmark. Somebody call Ambassador....I don't think they pay as much and they are in Cleveland, but then again, Hallmark is in KC Misery. And I am not fired up. Sometimes I love hearing myself swear. It is like verbal yoga. Do Re Mi fa so la FUCK!!! See I feel better.

see p&k, yoa ARE fired up. did someone bruise you plums tonight? actually, there's an inn here in jolly olde CT that serves prune ice cream--a recipe from the 1700's. yum yum. another glass of wine, sirrahs?

weak doth reak, and fowl is fare... (sorry, too much JRR this weak) a vessel's worth is in its capacity, its void, D.

you can feel anytime, just so long as you don't squeeze. Bruised plums would not be an appropriate sweet.

That will be the prunes

but there has to be a place for prunes doesn't there?

now here you were, crying about your bruised plums, and i offer the parable of the laid-by plum, sage with age, and you start whining about vessels? more wine! sommelier, another bottle of your finest!