Grandfather's razor?

Have to give credit for originality...but that's all.

It's amusing to see you amazing yourself, painfully amusing.

I like how the poem is divided into sections. It makes one pause and reflect on each.

that name (son of dad) is already taken by the craziest awesomest most turbolest batmanest kickassest super turbo posted upness band around!

The end says it all.

the band IS "Son Of Dad" (from Los Angeles)

I guess I shall be labeled as simple minded as you Lydia, for I enjoyed your poem (third stanza gets applause) And to those so far above the rest of us, so what if it resembles a million others? Love/Hate are very common to write about. At least this poem makes sense, which is more than I can say for some of yours. Poetry isn't just about writing large words in succession, it's writing about your feelings, and putting feeling into your peom. A poem is no good, unless one walks away from it with a sense of the writer's point of view. And as for William Blake...sometimes simplicity is best.

My bum hurts.

Tis True.

May I touch you?

This poesied was flung out during potty traininged.

This lashed at me like the most tophatted of insight.

No idea what Jodhpurs are...but once I reached the second stanza the poem had my full attention straight through the end.

Regina isn't hairy.

Thoughts cannot be replaced. They are forever swimming where the wildbums grow.

Why are you a woman in this one?

I see no nicknames here. Please do not appropriate Jesus without appropriate documentation.

I never loved you.

Please refract my latest comments.