Shuushin
replying on The spinning infirmary by INTRANSIT
14 Oct 2003, 7:20 PM
(he's lying)
Yes.
This is simple to see im in love with simple words that express the soul of man who is in contains of desire and just love can rescure him ,so i started to write desirous words upon the mask of days and nights
There's never a videocamera around when needed, is there?
Aflack my ass.
a prosish (tm) seven, were it an actual sonnet, I would give you and 8.
"I spin rinse and tumble deeper into your realm."
nice.
something missing in the last line, I think.
Such flowing words - though I don't completely understand it.
The touch of rhyme in the middle is used to good effect.
Quite lovely.
I will say the first line made me immediately think of langston hughes - just that, and nothing else.
excellent.
"organizational"
Please explain the last 2 lines.
Wow shorter than a haiku and speaking as loud with less - impressed - maybe we could have a new category called >>>>>>>>> Shorts 8
Loved the way you wrapped up S1 with the last 4 lines, speaks volumes about family values, appreciation of nature over social disdain.
Just one of those poems i want to read as i get something from it.
The last one of your poems was partly responsible for my poem 'Brighton Beach' i would appreciate your views on it good or bad.....Please.
google this, fucker!
since i cannot seem to find truth or honesty anywhere, can you tell me if I am in the right place?
PLEASE COMENT ON FRASER ALLONBY'S POEMS!
"The modern story, involving the torture of an American journalist (David Smith) by a military doctor (Alex Burghart), and the journalist's rescue by a soldier (Stephen Karam) is merged into myth when the characters take on new identities: the doctor as Hermes, messenger of Zeus, the solider as Prometheus, and the victim as mankind."
The last time I was a "solider"? I was a giant chunk of Gay Dry Ice. Repeatedly refusing to melt I smoked like an angry crack, an grunmbling volcanic gourge making the tourists lick their finger and staple huge flaming peeneye to their foreheads. Unfortunately, a young wisened lad with an industrial condom fork came along and threw my heaving cloudy carcass into the rubbish where as I then wept to death next to a head of buzzing kale.
http://www.oxfordstudent.com/2001-02-22/ox2/2
You must be the one in the black jumper and pink lipstick. I do hope the Prosopography of Anglo-Saxon England Project is going well. Cheers. Yep. Cheers. Bye. Yep. Bye. You too. Cheers.
Glad you appreciated the unintentional analogies!
Poof.
Beautiful, an utter down pillow of pretty sweaty nights in Peking.