i want to dedicate this to my friend p&k, and our beatiful mexican romance that we shared last year...you are always in my thoughts...are love is forever...la rossa! tu bonito pequito pendejo!

this is nice. I like it. Why the copyrights, though?

Anagram: I really enjoyed reading your Mr. Mecury piece-----reminds me of some fine people in my life as well. I gave it a 9! And thanks for the wonderful comment on my piece----"Work." The best to you, Doug.

and slippery. Oh, to feel another man's balls ground against my face..

Sadly I agree with Tarq.Very humerous.

mindless. Some high school ditz hits the bottle. (rubs thumbtip to index fingertip) This is the sound of the world's smallest violin playing the world's saddest song just for her.

A reasonable effort. What we truly need in today's ailing society is more poems about the unkempt monkey - le twat d'ruffle if you will. 9/10. Keep it up.

Lets try using the correct fingers the next time I try to write HUMOUROUS (UK)

Dear Tarquin: I appreciate your comment on my poem----"Work." Wasn't it someone "a few years ago" who indicated that we should learn how to love our enemies. Your friend, Doug

Will try to use the correct fingers the next time I try to type HUMOUROUS (UK)

Anagram: Thanks again for your comment concerning. Being a beginner poet (at least as far as publishing goes), I need all of the esteem building I can get. Your friend, Doug PS I wish that there were more seem to appreciate "how my mind works." Thanks again Doug By the way I gave this poem a 9. It sure does make a lot of sense-----and so many things do eventually come to an end. Learning how to let go is necessarily an important part of life. Not easy, but sometimes just simply necessary.

When i read this, i almost choked on my tea. Sweet merciful McGillicuddy, this has got to be the biggest piece of shit I've ever read. With angel crap too! how precious!Lean over here so I can slap you.

Young? Perhaps. Talented? I think not. A wierdo? Most assuredly. My good chap, you should be ashamed of yourself. This is G.C.S.E. poetry at it's worst. For your crimes against the English language you should be hung, drawn and quartered - and then presented to Satan on a pewter platter to do as He will. Shocking. 1/10.

but does she have the brains? As usual, there's the crap about charm, smiles and her ability to cause hard-ons, but is there anything behind the grin? prolly not.

I think the most constructive comment I am able to muster is simply thus: Occasionally you should consider leaving your room. Shambolic. 2/10, and that is considering that I am feeling particularly generous on this night.

Yes, I thought you went surfing. Isn't that what all you Utopia of Clowns hipsters do? Me, I am stuck in the Denver airport waiting to get back to KC Misery. Or Topeka, as you like to mix geography. I have a rodeo to attend tonight. Afterwards I am lecturing the cowboys on the art of the slam. Some of the cowboy poets want to try to see if the can possibly rant and rave for 8 seconds. After follow around the LA superintendent of schools for the past two weeks it will be good to get home so I can look at all my trophies. I miss them all. As for pointers, I will give them at will when your poems come to me at random. I do not have time to search them all out. I am sorry, son, you are on your own. I can only be a mentor to so many.

Good rewrite, now the 1st stanza connects to the rest of the poem.

Do flames really burn beneath a fire or are the fire itself? Shouldn't this poem be called: I have a pimple, what to do, if I pop it, it will spew. All over the walls, all over the floor, and if it is a big one I just might hit the door. And don't listen to blake. His poetry also has acne.

Dear Poetand knowit: Thanks for the help on my poem "Just Another Day." I really do appreciate the assisstance. If you continue to read my stuff-----all help will be appreciated. By the way, I really liked your piece, "good-bye kansas city:meditation #2. Also guess what-----I was born in Kansas City, MO in 1941-----and then grew up in Junction City, Kansas, 120 miles west of KC. Your Friend in Poetry, Doug PS I gave your poem a 9!!!

pheh. almost a smile, but not quite.