you will have to find some to vocalise about your tie(s).

emotion is belief is lie.

very sweet, lots of heart.

Another moment of genius frozen in time. You continue to impress me.

Not sure where the walking comes from in the last line, or the cold for that matter (you said earlier the water was warmer where you were together- a rather sweet line). Also I find such fantasies both overdone and to a certain extent melodramatic. Other than that this is really good.

Kind of literate, but you may just bore your conquest to sleep with lines like :'Lift my shirt, above my head,Let it fall, beside the bed, Flesh on flesh, we shall be, I need you to, ravage me,' It lacks a certain passion don't you think.

Like the first verse sounds, second verse follows on quite awkwardly and then 3 and 4. This is where the image and versatility of language is best. This is the poem at its most creative I think.

Not sure about the you are this I am that approach. But the logic, storytelling of this piece is very well crafted. Scarcely a wasted word.

the night smells spicy and sweet???? Other than that a well ordered poem and a killer last line.

This is fantastically good. Also, you should read my Myspace journal.

Specifically, I am posting a journal entry about you to my myspace journal.

I love you, you should call more.

and it's always the "adults" teaching the children, when it otter be the other way 'round, eh?

'the drummer from def leopard has only one arm'? Thats nothing, the guy who produces their records is a dog!

You have grossly overestimated our sense of curiosity and concern about the status of your spine. The realization that no one really cares can be quite a life changing event. I hope you deal with it in a level headed fashion.....I'd hate to find out that my words have moved you to roll your wheelchair off a cliff ....whether you do so by the stroke of your hands or from a running start.

Rich - you know how fucking pig headed the Irish can be. Cross em once and you've made an enemy for life and beyond.

Yes I once new a nice jewish girl. We split up because she abhorred my opinions on the holocaust. I didn't have any opinions, told her I didn't even know there had been one. Oh well, anyway a nicely written poem

bummer dude, bummer.

She mite, then she mite not, though if she tried with all her mite, she mite - but only if she had the rite foresite to make it at the rite time in spite of [that other guy]'s rite to smite the mite, am I rite? Not quite.

peppered with error - and it needs salt.