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Retirement (Free verse) by Jeremi B. Handrinos Stumps with a barreness as far as the eyes could see
High pitched whine followed by bloody curdling screams
Not a hint of green, or life, or love, or daylight
The Saw mill stands alone on a grey slate precipice
No more men or bad jokes over black coffee & timecards
The ghost of development now's automated by depravation
The roof's covered by wingless sleeping birds, preening
And ahead lies a suburbia fashioned from worker's flesh
Water tower reads "Forest of Modernization", Hatesville
Winnebagos
Pontoons
Jetskys
Watercrafts
Swimmingpools
And filthy bird baths
Audaciously uncentered
between the mailbox &
inevitability.
Up the ladder:
"Why would I need to get in touch with you?"
Down the ladder:
To Brittany
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 6.181818
Posted: July 18, 2003 4:48 PM PDT; Last modified: August 4, 2003 1:09 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.590909 Overall Rank: 2325 Comments:
Sometimes words stung together are simply words strung together. Why is it we must see every bad idea that comes to you when you are high? Your writing is going nowhere. Stan Rice is DEAD!
Sometimes words strung together become sentences, and other times they become ways to hurt other people's feelings. Sir, are you purposely trying to hurt my feelings? Stan Rice just sold me an ounce. What do you think I'm SMOKING! lol
You must be smoking his cancer ridden ashes. That explains everything. No wonder. Sorry.
now boyz, play nice!
He started it. Came over here and threed me, twice. lol
I commented on poems you posted in the same fashion you comment on others. It is not my fault that they are crap. I did mention the paper airplane. Obviously any sort of professional criticism would go by the wayside. So, I'd rather do this - at least for the next 10 minutes. Oh yes: lol.
Ten minutes will turn ten hours.
Not likely. Bye now.
Look at your imagination go. I'm impressed, but tell me since we both know smoking what has already been smoked is impossible. I'm left trying to piece together the point behind your comments and wit? Pray tell, does it explain everything? Or are you just throwing out a quick reason to high tail it out of here before the "inevitability" of me, making you, look stupid as usual comes limping to your rescue?
Sure thing, Brad. No, it simply explains the mind boggling fact that despite your will, your ego (hahahahaha) and your ability to scribble words while high, and your endless capacity to convince yourself that you are a true talent, your work suffers. And you cannot take criticism worth a shit. You automatically go into defense mode and hide behind your plethora of characters at the drop of a word.. Your work suffers. And the fact is you are a joke of a writer. No matter how much you want to talk the talk, no matter how much you berate what you consider lesser talent (which is quite funny, actually), no matter how many times we get to see Intransit slobber over you, the fact remains is that your writing is all over the place and in need of a good edit. But you cannot see that. And your defenses make you sound foolish. You are Image challenged. Laughable.
I still have yet to be defensive. I have not switched or hidden behind any characters. Intransit, hardly slobbered, he just found the poem funny and ironic for the same reason why you've come over puffing your chest no doubt. Which is why you're the most predictable lead source to water on poemranker. You never fail. And, I agree totally that my poetry could always use an edit or two or ten. Whos' doesn't? Your's? Why am I image challenged? And what exactly is my image? lol
Yes, I constantly have to prove my masculinity to be accepted in the DL. Besides, it was first in the most recent poems and rutting for Z has become quite the yearly pasttime. I am not sure the irony comes through, but good try. Intransit always slobbers - cars and women don't ya know. And now Hour8 (or who). Image in a purely poetic sense. I am sure you have quite the glossy airbrushed image in West Hollywood. It is a pretty city filled with pretty people. I was just there for the dead. Santa Barbara, Malibu. Lovely places. Lovely people. Lots of marble. Yes, sir. Sure beats looking at the fat chaps and lasses in Misery. Take a drink now. I am going to ride.
it's not just yearly, it's year-round, mes freres.
Ha ha! You didn't even read the poem you twat... Ha, ha ha ha...
actually it is possible to smoke what has already been smoked.. pot heads know this, since when they are out of money they delight in extracting resin from their pipes to smoke and get high from. It actually works.
heh, just some interesting, or completetly stupid information.
We are aware of resin, and bannana peels, but since we are talking about smokingb the remains of dear sweet Stan Rice the poet extraordinare your response is neither here nor there. Can't you see I'm battling the former lord of poemranker Babbits 11 and bits and bits and bits void the kibbles?
this appears to be a bunch of rambling nonsense - 3 -
-lia 455 view(s)
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