This is interesting.

listen, "old man" i'm humbled really? experimentation? i honestly havn't even begun to break into my writing mode yet...i've been to busy being horus fucking8 and raising a family by acting in movies and commercials and theatre and playing and composing music and touring with bands to pay attention until now,lol! whatever? who gives a fuck? you? why? because you're a "coservative writer" i'm lol! and sucking up the "oh you should be published if you're not already praise" fuck off.lol! i'm 28 with a girlfriend for five years and an artist struggling in the thick of it...every fucking day...i haven't worked nine to fivw since i was twenty i do what i want to do "art for lunatics with huge nothings"the flesh mesh mind fuck industry...don't give me your iowa workshop hype shit.. okay! i'm in the middle of it man! on the frontlines and raising a family as an artist so.....take your grown up shit elsewear chief joseph.. i was in the military (navy seals) and i did my share of time with "good ole boys like you" so back off or blaze guns, but don't waste my time...okay i need to write..

beaytifull and cryptic...it's universal and forever...fell proud..i normally hate this shit...but you have waded through... overall it;s depeche~mode good 8/10

Hey, print it out for your kitchen wall with my blessing! That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my stuff so consider it yours.

I would like very much to speak with you, But mostly I want your praise.l

We gorgeous devils are awiting you words of pleasure and praise...in the meantime some other chap's ears must be burning. But I like the way you reflect back on Lady Macbeth - there is an element of culpability that mitigates the narrator's venom. The romatic longing of the last full stanza has a lovely muted hopefulness too.

Obviously, I stuck a chord. The reference to experimentation was in regards to sexual exploits, so the backwoods, good ole boys references are quite amusing there. You sound bitter and easy to judgment. I am happy you make your living on the "frontlines" as you call it and have a family to support you in it. It is a tough business and every dollar counts, but you have already made me aware of that. And you assume I make my living where? You should take it easy, "chill" as you call it. Your rant amuses me for the simple fact that you know nothing of me and just because I write a certain way you have put me into some category that obviously bothers you: what the literary set, the academic set? As far as the Iowa's Writers, well it has produced numerous writers of quality, so I cannot criticize it. Although I did not go there, not opting for the writing education, it does deserve some respect for the talent it has helped mold. Good luck with your family and your pursuits (I have two daughters of my own, and a wife, a cat, and two large dogs, I am 33, and have never been in a movie or a commercial. However, I have had numerous plays produced over the years. I did not perform in or direct any of them. I also have not worked 9 to 5 since I was..hmmm..I guess I never have, not even teaching.) So maybe instead of hopping to conclusions you should do what every good writer does, especially those on the frontlines and dig deeper.

That's better - good and tumescent!

I thinks you smell a facist. So do I

This is fantastic, and no doubt historically accurate. It's a long time since I laughed out loud at my computer. Bonza.

I agree - the 2nd stanza is good because it deals in images, while the outer stanzas read like notes towards a short story. Work for more images of concealment.

But don't you wish you had a long black coat like Keanu's?

Couldn't agree more with your sentiments though

This is worth it for the first 3 lines of part four - they are a poem on their own

it's genuine social commentary. Bacchus is in there with the riff-raff. He's got one eye open, his left hand on the bottle and his right hand on the truth of it.

well i guess that depends on whether or not you swim naked at the ymca doesn't it? i mean honestly what do you think babbit?, have you ever smoked a fat cock..i mean really choked on the flesh of a thick pud....oh jesu'...it's salivating...who cares? you? tell me all about it...cry on my shoulder...i'm here for you...do you need to come out? i do..... prayers of jesu' "forgive my dirty enbrowning prawn". for running nude and imagining...i'm so pretentious..lordy...please...you haven't read enough of my work to vaguely comment, just because you're number? on the countdown doesn't mean you've broken into scotland yard man...chill! killian red saves lives and irish pub hounds...vegg and pray man...pray for cock!

Again, sincere sentiment gets lost in weak writing. This craft is extremely laborious. If you are serious about continuing and truly getting better, it takes loads of practice and insurmountable reading.

I read all your work. I just commented on this. As far as the other, my days of experimentation are some days behind. I am quite content where I am now.

Venom mitigated. I am all lovely muted hopefulness. Thanks for the poem.

An Ode to Newky Brown has got to enter the pantheon of poesy. This is Keats on his third bottle, and he's loving it.