cleverdevice
on Blade by Blade
22 Oct 2002, 3:09 AM
I was really liking your work till then. You sair, are a cad!
Daer God, a new poet laureate surley! Well done.
Scary, yet great! Well done sir!
Haha, such wit. You are truly gifted!
'Tis wonderful indeed. A very interesting look on life. Alwasy try is the message here. Very good.
i once had that "position".. Sometimes you really do wonder who is in control. The wench, the musician, or mr. money. Make sure you pull up your pants before leaving the table next time. You amuse me, always. 7
royalflesh
replying on realities <from above their brilliance is short-lived> by royalflesh
22 Oct 2002, 2:31 AM
you just didn't get it. Its cool. Thanks for the typo.
Yo maria this is a sad story i really feel for you and you can write damned good poems :) Get bak to me soon
Can instead of slagging my poem off give some constructive critisism like how do u actually spell gona....
I've never been to Telford. But I've been to Shrewsbury.
You've put me off the birds. I don't touch them now. I feel physically sick every time I see one. Now for me it's all about my existence as a lifeless husk of a man with no passions or pleasures except the mastication of cardboard.
Where are you coming from? Telford should be European City of Culture. It's got bridges, after all. And a tree.
I like th fact that the jealousy is still the most prevalent emotion, even at the end. But it's mixed in with shick, guilt and regret as well. That's a lot to cover in a short space.
Don't you hide behind the smokescreen of my typographical error, you rapscallion, you know I have you on the run.
u r gr8. lettuce c- u- p. k? L b w8ing 4 u 2 3L me!
Don't forget the gnocchi. Every 11th day of the month. You have offended my ethnic sensibilities by your glaring exclusion. Even the Asians are represented by those oily little slugs they try to pass off as dumplings Hmpff!
Yucky. That is so totally gross!!! How could you even think of role-playing with someone on the internet? I mean, they could be a pervert or something, like maybe they own a laundromat called sudsorama, and they steal little girl's knickers from hampers when noones looking. Or worse you could be getting off with some old prof who touches his weenie while he's standing up behind that wood thing that holds his papers and stuff. Crusty residue on the sleeve of his tweed jacket. Ewww. Or it could be an lady whos so fat she doesn't leave the house and pretends she's a dude.
This popped up on random, I 'd forgotten it. I forget things. If you tell me a joke, in 3 months time you can tell it to me again. I love how you manage to conceal the punch til the last moment.
purring knuckles. sweet. how do things get so friggin sour?
live and learn.