You'd be making His Holy Case better if you could actually form a sentence.

And way to self-vote! Stay on this site awhile and you'll notice only the Christians self-vote. Weird, huh? But then, they HAVE already managed to make up a God, so maybe it's easy to make up that God is cool with it.

True story: This retard boy in our neighborhood followed my wife home from work last week and, right as she got to the house, abruptly tried to fist her through the seat of her pants. Naturally, we called our jaha, which called their jaha, and everybody had to go out to the police office the next day for a nice little sitdown together. Inappropriate attempted fisting is, by the way, a high crime here. The sick part is that even in the police station, confronted with something like 15 years in prison and the ruination of his, his family's, and all descendants of his family's reputation into eternity, he SERIOUSLY couldn't stop himself from staring kind of blankly and freakishly at my wife. His father, too. The police started to knock them around a little, you know, scare them some, and they were crying and apologizing and STILL staring at her. That's kind of weird, huh?

Hey! Congratulations on reposting without making any real edits!!!! Even your "typos"!

The middle verse is overstated and a little poetick. The rest is pretty good.

This poem exactly reminds me that there's a turd (now vomit covered) which has been living in my Turkish toilet the last month and a half. It floats and has a few recognizable features. Kind of like Neil Simon.

Still the best poem ever.

Should be categorized "Barely Veiled Rant about Getting Your Poems Trashed on Poemranker". I'll be writing nentwined to have such a category created and all backlogged poems in this vein belatedly entered in it. You can be our queen.

If you were a god, which of the following would you be?

a) Just like yourself now, only with invisibility and creating-matter-from-nothing superpowers;

b) Have invisibility and matter-creating powers, plus a +50 Cloak of Perfection (ie, also perfect);

c) It's all the same thing, since if you were God whatever you thought or did would have to be by definition perfect - kind of like the reality (but not the idea) of Papal infallibility probably is.

If you don't own a blacklight and at least one blacklight poster, I will eat my shmaagh.

I liked it before the edit. This is me being serious.

The definite articles throughout - but especially in the first line - are hideous and a waste of space. With the same syllables I could have said, oh, I don't know,

Against flat, skin-white winter skies,
Against glass-hard November skies,
On unforgiving surfaced skies,

- and so on and so on, without the presumption of "the".

And "flies and plies" is a little too sing-songy, even for a song. Even "flies; it plies" would have been better, though not much. Drop the "flies", I say (*snicker, snicker*) and get an adjective before "bird".

Maybe I've just not taken enough time on this (I haven't), but I don't immediately see how the imagery is supposed to work. Either

a) the "shallow and dirty snow" and "crusty and clean" snow are the jokes, and the "black limbs sagging" and "tan earth" are the missives;

b) or the "shallow and dirty snow" and "black limbs sagging" are the jokes, and the "crusty and clean" snow and the "tan earth" are the missives. There's no other way around it.

If a), how are his jokes both "shallow and dirty" and low, and "crusty and clean" and lofty? And how are "black limbs sagging" and "tan earth hidden" missives? The limbs, maybe, reach out - that works. But the earth is the opposite; it's passive and hidden. Sure, you can be reaching out and being passive and hidden probably, but not in metaphor land.

Choice b) seems more likely. You get "shallow and dirty" and kind of desparate limbs reaching out and sagging for the jokes. But then you get clean tree snow and hidden earth for the missives. How are either of those missives? And aren't they still opposites?

Go ahead, tell me where I've gone wrong.

Let me be the first among us to say, "Thanks, Crystal Lane Swift's Mom."

Oh God! Math poems!

This will make the approximately the millionth time the following message has been posted on poemranker.

.....

1) The converse of "I love you" is not "You love me". Its converse is nothing, or at best "If something is you, then I love that thing," since converses are mainly useful for altering if/then expressions.

2) None of the three main transformations (converse, inverse, contrapositive) can transform "I love you" into "you love me".

I'm compiling a list of things nentwined was probably doing with -=Dark_Angel=-,P.I.'s $1 instead of server maintenance during the week poemranker was down. Freely contribute.

The best part is "but something at trouser level
seemed to make him joyful." -10-

re: "There is no logic to explain the way A feels".

There is. If A is profoundly dim. -10-

All of these descriptions apply to most animals in the wild. The only place they don't look like that is in zoos, where we gussy them up like underage Melbourne hookers according to our idea of what Nature's all about.

Concerning the "metaphor": Yes.

This is the best poem I've read in a while.

Go back to wherever you were.