-=Dark_Angel=-, P.I.
replying on Emily Mae by horus8
4 Feb 2004, 1:54 PM
bow'ls
Iâm no idiot (not a professional, at least), so I understand that there is no bond stronger than between mother and child. While I'm sure your sentiment was well received by your friend and judged on that merit alone, your posting it here entitles myself or (anyone for that matter) to rank it how we see fit. With that said, your harsh name calling was unwarranted and far more insulting than my comment.
Suddenly, I need a good cry.
LENORE: I am not the narrator of this poem. Please do not extrapolate. The narrator is a fictional assistant producer of guided meditational cds on an unknown label, speaking from his palatial (yet oddly sterile) LA-hills bungalow. The ending is abrupt because immediately after speaking the last line he falls asleep. You might argue that this ending is not realistic or in keeping with the situation built by the first stanzas, to which I would answer that the fantastical fictional framework of the fictional asst producer I have created allows me to do whatever the fuck I want with him. And I pretty much ran out of rhymes for 'was' ('fuzz' and 'scuzz' not being able to fit in a productive way,) and along (ditto for 'dong', 'schlong', and 'bong'.) Since you will apparently rampage until someone critiques your last post, I will do us all a favor.
I'm actually with rockmage. It's pretty well-written, barring some of those punctuational things which your higher state of evolution makes you immune to. But it doesn't inspire fear. George Bush inspires fear in me. The headlong crusading of America and Britain inspires fear. This poem could. I think (gasp) it's too intellectual. And are you ending on the note that there actually IS a coming danger? Of course there isn't! On second thought, this is the kind of cadgy line-toeing that makes a famous poem. No matter what side you come from, you'll think this poem says (but not particularly well) what you think. Bravo and an 8.
Hey, we can't help it if you live in a world full of dick mouth? I'd suggest, recognizing the fact, your poetry will never compete with this mans. how you dance around pretending that your opinion is based on talent, or wicca, or a mouthful of cock, is intriguing, but in the end, if you put your poems next to his? You'd be just another shitty new england writer, not that you aren't a fucking steaming mullosk already. Yeah, that's right cunt, I got your number now. fifty years of having me climb up your ass and remind you that I don't care for you at all, and in fact, I never did. that's why it's going to be such a pleasure reviewing everything you do for the rest of your days.
You will always be one of my favourites.
bow'ls
a little upset by that "1" I gave, eh?
but judging from the comments on your entirely too generic writing, let me give you a quick literary lesson
poems can be stories as much as prose
in fact, they have an entire genre called "epic poetry" and another called "narrative poetry"
why don't you finish grade school before coming to me with any critique, alright? k thnx
Isn´t this a story? It´s a reason that they call a poem a poem and a story a story. Did you get that?
Suck factor- 10
Something's gone wrong with this poem. It leaves me with hate. You- for being what's wrong. Her- for being a coward. The ending- for being too abrupt. I can't like it. Yet this is one of the best poems here.
What can I say, if it had actually been me that wrote that I might feel stupid. But I didn't, and I don't.
Come on now, Billy's poems are great!
For me to poop on.
I find it hard to believe that you wrote this poem. Next you'll be writing epic poems about how only the Lighthouse Keeper is lonelier than you are. One can hardly swing a dead animal in here without hitting poems of varying quality extolling the deep sadness of lost love. People, for Christ's sake slap a tourniquet on your bleeding hearts and write something interesting!
What do you mean? It's the same bum.