Word of the Day (a haiku) | Cunnilingus. n. Licking and/or orally Stimulating snatch; | Works wonders on Christian girls.

Don't know much about ghazals, think there is something about repetition you may have missed though. This is good, I have a small problem with 'didn't need to unlock these chains' which sounds a bit corny and 'vengeance passivity' which sounds babble.

"Let the alcohol wash this all" reminds me of my parents who always used to ask me if I was 'doing the drugs' or 'high on the dope', etc. Dear mom and dad: I was.

Too many quotation marks, me head hurts

i think i need to study this more, there's alot there

It feels more like a run-on sentence than a poem, the images are too random=..some connect and some I just don't know...

Welcome back.

what is the point here?

I must agree. The poem is good until the end. I don't object on principle, just don't see how the ending goes with the rest.

ready sounds better. I still get fearlessness.

as the last to comment, I missed the tweaks and read at least three times before I had anything to say. obviously, I still don't. filling in the blank -9-.

MEDIOCRITY CODE: 2444A905 http://www.mycgiserver.com/~prawne/code.jsp?action=decode&thecode=2444A905 MEDIOCRITY SCORE: -10-

Just how much Ginsberg have you read?

"For her [Blake's Thel], the world of sexual generation is a couch of death rather than a bank of bliss because her eye cannot be opened to the fact that eternity is in love with the productions of time... "Thel" is the "woman" as the reviewers defined her, who tacitly accepts their predications of her womanhood, becomes blinkered to her visionary role, and sees sex as death. Oothoon is the woman intuitively aware of her emanative function as life’s prerequisite in time, as she is the woman also aware of the masochistic male prerogative which keeps her from fulfilling it by effectively equating life and love with death and sin." - Murray, E.B. "Thel, Thelyphthora, and the Daughters of Albion." (quoted in zodiac's forthcoming publication, _Blake Criticism: A Whiffle Bat Endlessly & Ungently Applied to My Tender Head_)

"Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt Still a little hard to say what's going on Still a little bit of your ghost your witness Still a little piece of your face I haven't kissed You step a little closer to me Still I can't see what's going on Stones taught me to fly Love taught me to lie Life taught me to die So it's not hard to fall When you float like a cannonball Still a little bit of your song in my ear Still a little bit of your words I long to hear You step a little closer each day So close that I can't see what's going on Stones taught me to fly Love taught me to lie Life taught me to die So it's not hard to fall When you float like a cannon Stones taught me to fly Love taught me to cry So come on courage! Teach me to be shy 'Cause it's not hard to fall And I don't want to scare her It's not hard to fall And I don't wanna lose It's not hard to grow When you know that you just don't know" Damien Rice - Cannonball great album I might add!

I've been there. Why do we need to write in a hazy, over-nostalgic, gushing way to say what can be said as easily and straightforwardly as you have said it.

I hate these morbid poems, and love the way you've written this one. It's the way of poets to write this stuff. Wish we could all escape.

Why do you spend all your time running around with those floozies? Do they prepare nutritious meals for you? Do they hand-wash your breeches? Or twirl your hair while you sleep? Or highlight all your favorite shows in the TV Guide? Come back to us, horus. The kids miss their father.

You could surprise me and you did.

You really badly wish you were a medieval princess.