a turtle strokes its way through a puddle of creamed corn. she turns coldly, glaring beneath her shades, smoke gushing from her face. she speaks. we see her missing teeth.

A force beyond my control pushes at the seams in my denim trousers.

perhaps during the hours of boredom, you might read, or, I don't know, learn how to spell? Or, here is another idea...focus on whatever task you are performing, so as not to completely fuck it up.

what is gimmie?

If only you had rhymed something with 'drano', this would have been an automatic 10

now this i think is kinda funny and kinda good.

if only you had made the half rhyme of tuna and you a bit more obvious....still a 10

freaking....this is wrong. either use "fucking" or some other word that stands on its own and is not some chilly euphemism for a real word.

though I don't suppose it really matters, as this is most likely written on a post-it note and destined for the trash anyway.

I love drunken diatribes. ONly reason to go, really.

I have to give this a 10, just for "meatballism"

I would cut the "they" from the second line, making the statement imperative.

Did i just read "a list of diggables" ? Do my eyes deceive me?

I dig it. (sorry)

why not "leaves fall" and "air turns"?

what? A poem about simplicity should be simple.

The inner being of men souls in measure
The one and only means of treasure

THis is one for the all time guff files. REally. Could you explain to me what "the inner being of men souls in measure" means?

what? oh, of course not.

I think the last line would work better in the absence of commas.

I also think this is great. Mushrooms, reared in so much shit and mulch, waiting and enduring, stoic almost.

Pod-monsters is a highlight

The lawn christ I did beard with a few
gems that were browne as poo poo
They shone like his eyes
He, to no ones surprise,
looked and smelled like a rich migrant jew

i can hear the crickets chirping. listen. can you hear it too?

you should try to work some AIDS into the poem. That would really give that extry cutting edge.

I always love birds in poetry. The madness they suggest, the wings, the beaks, the smears they leave on your pole.

bullshit aside, I really loved the last stanza, brake the stare is a bit cutesy, but doesn't really detract, for me anyway...and i think grinding line could be clearer or simpler or something but am without suggestions.

i don't like atop in the first. why not just on.

in the second, probes my poll....probes is a suggests something more intrusive than what is actuall going on, though that is not really a problem if that is what you mean...the bird is intruding, perhaps? Keep your pole to yourself.

the third is nice with the repetition, but "friend" seems... i don't know. if it were my poem, i would let the reader decide for him or herself whether the bird was friend, foe or other.

blessed are the poor...period. that is the original ....you have Blessed are the poor in spirit,which is what the church changed it to so as not to put off, or otherwise disturb, the people filling up the collection basket.

Save it for church...

good show.

why would he have to rape her, when she was presumably throwing herself at him? i think "sodomized" the princess would be better

dude, i wish these went to 11!

Yikes...

"i'm a creep
and i'm a weirdo
what the hell am i doing here?
I don't belong here"


interesting the way you write "leftout" as one word.
radiohead circa 1990 something

unperfect. strangely, i think this may be better than imperfect.

you are just unwanted