I quite like this, but there's not enough. 6. I'd just got into it, and it ended. Write more next time; I'd like to see what you have to say for yourself in a longer piece.

This poeme is "good".

..... mind you ; having just re-read The Sea .... well , i don't think you can criticise me for structure .. unless i'm missing something .. maybe you could explain

Island folk love their drift wood, and seed floats. i wish it were longer and stronger. i like the (stuff) though. long live the queen and the beasts from the bog! welcome...lovely name.

It's good. 8. In fact, it's very good. I like it a great deal. I wouldn't reach orgasm over it as someone else seems to have done, but it's certainly worth a read again and again.

well thanx tarquin for pointing that out to our prize-winning friend ; my thoughts exactly . it's just a load of twaddle with circles and spirals . as pointed out elsewhere "coda" is the coda of a body of work starting with "nice poem" presented for general wonderment about what everybody would think about it .. it certainly means a lot to me ... whereas this one means zip ... be interesting to see what he has to say about my sonnets :-)

I'm sorry, this is an utter dirge. 1. I would bet my life's savings that the author is a Rage Against the Machine fan. I think they're a great band, but I buy their records for the music, not the lyrics. You seem angry, my young friend. Ever tried counselling...?

I'm sorry, this is an utter dirge. 1. I would bet my life's savings that the author is a Rage Against the Machine fan. I think they're a great band, but I buy their records for the music, not the lyrics. You seem angry, my young friend. Ever tried counselling...?

This is not a cool song kat, this is shit. 2. If you're looking for a decent song to put on just before you went out on the razzle, you would not choose this bollocks.

Nice. Very nice. 9. Stark, yet brimful of imagery and atmosphere. I salute you.

dear mr. tourette, may i just say <fuck yeah, horus> that i found your piece <meaty beaty big and bouncy> most stimulating <ejaculation complete>. i say old boy, <horny bastard> solid <rock hard> use of metaphor! mesmerising mood <rufie>! keep up <mmmm...> the good work!

i like the idea behind this and there are some powerful images scratched here, but it seems like, in trying to keep the rhyming, you loose the thread of purpose. it could be so much better.

I am bursting with the need to write a poeme called "ANTICIPATING A FART". Here it is (haiku): A small pain at first/It grows until it reaches/unstoppable size.

Anyone can make up a story and tell themselves it has meaning.

The first two lines of this are genius. Actually the whole thing could be genius if only you had made the pleasure of nudity more sinister and unthinkable.

you wrote it april 15th? i guess if you're wonder what to do with yourself, in case your lover's a no-show, you could always do your taxes...

sorry about that, it was just an old piece of shite laying around from the flood of 97,(it only rained in my mind. it rained crumple dollared bills and pills) so i decided to practice my sailor tongued phillapino in a basket spin. i don't know yet. i e-mailed it to my grandma (she still teaches kindergarten) to see what she thinks. She's a great editor. everyone go hug your grandmas now before it's to late. p.s i am undeserving, in my reallity you people don't exist, and i'm just talking to myself. like throwing a frisbee in the wind baby, which means it's all escapism, and if i offend anyone, your just a figment of my imagination anyway, so fuck me . Why don't i just go fuck myself. would that be okay? to bad i already puulled it out. close the partition limo driver, oh...and take your time... e

listen..for the love of jesu'..i know i make alot of shit up, but i'm being on the level with you. the poem was inspired by that previously mentioned media clip (strip bar priest). it's all true. my grandma died (lung cancer). the kids were cutting pumpkins for halloween(my cousins) and i lived with my aunt in vegas for almost a year(i was on the lam for stealing a shipment of seventeen big screen tvs in Mi.) i am an honest story teller, a lying poet, but an honest story teller. i am not a richard farina, not yet. there is nothing wrong with this poem bastardette it's an honest day work.s

..wow ,..... er ... thanx .i shall hesitate to delete this ; ... but not for long .

Ha Ha! No wonder you're a bloody Guardian reader! 8. Not my politics at all, but nevertheless, a decent poem. One for adults to think about, and I like that sort of thing.