sorry...i'm having a major mental block.

"Unicorns and dragon flys, a beast," - this line is about two syllables too long. "Dreams of cakes and whatever you feast," - feast as a verb can't stand alone in the reflexive sense (ie, you can feast someone else, but you can't feast yourself.) Most people 'feast on', though Dark Angel probably 'feastes of'. You'll have to ask him. Maybe you can just add another noun instead of whatever, so it goes 'dreams of cakes and ______ and feasts.' On a similar note, I've always thought the song sung by Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that starts 'I want a feast - I want a bean-feast!' was very peculiar. Bean-feasts seem really German to me somehow - don't ask why. Maybe it's just that in America we have so many better things to feast on than beans, while in Germany they do not. I don't know. This has a better sound than you give yourself credit for, like Yeats's 'Lake Isle at Innisfree' or 'The Stolen Child'. However, in the future you should watch out for rhyming the sound -igh, which is easy to the point of being a trap. Robert Frost in his first book makes practically every rhyme an -igh. In one song on the Moondance album Van Morrison rhymes -igh to absurdity, ending only with the line 'ai ai ai ai ai ai ai ai.' It works here, but be careful.

A real beard poem from the source!!! Beautiful!!!

Dreams of cakes and whatever they feast, This line makes me stumble, probably because I don't see what it means. That being said, I was able to sing this in the traditional manner I sung my son to sleep. Very Good!

Written with just the right amount of presumed barefoot ignorance. Good Show!

Thanks I'm glad someone likes my stuff

So.

Avante garde...

lol.

Danger, I'm sure that's someone's middle name.

Christ, that looked like a diet seven up getting canned than bottom raped by gerbal wearing a shirt saying "the wheel master". Didn't they tell you? you're not a loud on the bus.

I'm not a fan of Jesus, but on this one occasion I will say, on his behalf, better that test tube than your gene pool. Because you're an obvious wet pretzel. Totally fucking useless.

Art.

I feel that this poem is written from your own personal experience. Begone thou foul, once bearded reject.

Ha ha! That's absolutely rubbish! You call yourself a poet? I don't know who you are, Mr Billy Biff-Chin, but I suggest you fuck off and never return. This poem is mind-numbingly shit. This should be placed in an anthology of the world's worst poems. -0-

I'm shaking my head in disbelief! This is appalling! "Never will you look like a creep"! You must be joking. This is terrible! -0-

Just when you think that the dross posted on this site couldn't get any worse! Along comes Billy Biff-Chin (whoever he may be - what a stupid name!) and posts this utter garbage. I suggest you add the following lines to the end of the first verse: There's not much I can add Except that my brother's name is Brad We like to call him Brad the Cad As he's been known to suck my chad I always run to tell my dad He says "Well, you're trouble, lad" So I run off to my small pad It's radical (or, as I say, "rad") I've redecorated - well, just a tad With a portrait of the Impaler, Vlad I've only got one blue knee pad I took it to the old launch pad And ran into Juanita from Mossad She suggested I use a mouse pad For my other knee as they do in Riyadh I confiscated her sketch pad And placed a large newspaper ad To find a woman, scantily clad, To run off with to the capital of Chad

CROIKEY!!111 -10-

-0- = poo on a stick.

If you filled an inner tube with pimientos and then jumped on it until it burst, you still wouldn't have even approached the level of absurd catastrophe diffusing from this 'poeme'.