Childish, in every aspect.

ugh. I love the idea, but it's more a curse/swear at this point. Can you expand it and add a little more poetry? But I do agree, Fuck Bush.

Love the Tommy and the use of "What's the deal with that" I Don't know enough about Haikus yet to really comment, but I'm going to learn!

wow, this is fucking brilliant I just read it aloud. POW. You stole "Willingly slain" from me. You used it well, I'm pleased you feel inspired by me. Really great poem.

How's about
I fail like twilight
or
I fail with the twilight.

whenever I read you're poems I'm torn, because the stories are good, but you use so many unnecessary words. Small little unnecessary words. It steals the beauty away from you're poems.

Great. Light use of words, but still a few things which torture it. Get rid of the last two lines, it's redundant. You left the reader with a strong enough image, let him figure it out for himself, he's guaranteed to.

You fucked me in the shower once,remember? Then you started acting all mean and distant and I went back to fucking David. Sometimes we're nothing but meat.

Good story. I believe the truth is always preferable, and you're so wonderfully blatant with it. It helps me understand myself.

Charmng but needs work. "They both giggle" is too vague, even if we can assume it's the floor and mattress. You said it so many times, say it once more. L4 is incomprehensible, and believe me I can understand some obscure stuff, but this is beyond beyond. end it with the mattress somehow. You lying on it contemplating, the mattress comforting you. Again, charming.

Ahhhhh, The Don Perignon of Pimplery. Majestic mis-spells and Royal Ruminations on the Theme of Lovey-dovey. They should have a special 10 for this perhaps with orange wing-ends and a crown. Can some one in administration manage that?

As under-developed as a 13yr old school-boy. There isn't a poet alive or dead that hasn't suffered from depression, not a single one, it just comes with the territory. so you can't hide behind "well you just don't understand, cause you don't know". Do yourself a favor and write down every damn thing that comes to mind. Don't post it neccessarily, but write it down and go from there. Practice. And don't give yourself blue 10's, it's like watching someone do something humiliating on T.V. I can't stand to look.
Here's my depression poem:

I cannot speak
I cannot dream
I am losing
The feeling, the feeling
The longing, the pain, the certainty
That what is desired is also possible.

That what is desired, is also possible.

Now you tell me
What is there left to be found
in the chambers of a ruined heart?

Old Blood. Old Sound

You see curt + simple doesn't mean boooooring!!! If you want to write creatively than write creatively.

Ahhh, more glowing lovers in the darkness. Too wordy for my taste, I'll let others vote. Maybe later when I'm intoxicated, I mean if I'm intoxicated, I mean when. The (Sounds O' Shakespeare) is just too too juvenile for you Mr. Black with the big fat Candlestick in the Bedroom.

Exemplary. Text-book Pimple.

I just can't stop thinking about this poem. I really believe you should develop this into a short story. I mean the kids, you know, they're such natural poets. Everything they do is poetry. That last line is so profound because it is a reality. You're was inspired by the love in her itty-bitty soul(for lack of a better word) I want to know the whole story. There's so much scenery here. A protest, a backyard swing. Please write this story. Write it for me, please. I know you can do it, you're in tune.

Wow, nice finishing. This one builds. The second line takes a needless turn into cliche-ville. It's a distracting detour, can you please think about re-working this?

Fan fucking tabuless. Some tiny things for flow,like the first parantheticals is that statement neccessary?

with optimistic images of the profane

Hows about- with optimistic profane images

Gray fan oscillating(edit out- at the foot)

You know stuff like that. Nip here nip there. Give it a go. See if you like it more. The last stanza and that switch-a-roo is wonderful writing. You're good.

I for one, believe this is perfect, especially the title. It's Valentine's not Valentines. 10's for you.

I guess the ranker has hit it's stride once more, what a relief. things sure were crappy around here for a while. As good a poem as I have ever read. Inspired "I don't like to touch you either" multi-meanings and a nice strong bite to it. I love that line so much I wish I had invented it myself.

It's about fucking time. These murder poems are just too vague. Of course the writing is good ,of course it is, you can't help that, but what exactly is this about? I want that last becoming to mean more, weigh heavier. Can you please add a little more heft?

I can see the form you wanted but even if the set-up had come out as wished, I still would have been lost. Is it memory taking you by the hand?And why down lover-lit parks? I want to know more about the parks significance.

I love you too, now come here.