Hopefully your dad will correct your spelling. In your dreams that is. ;) - it's "c'est la vie" (to be pedagogical)

that's what's been happening to me...denial works better with paranoia

Talent, talent. With these simple words, I praise you.8

Wow! If i am impressed i am to the fullest!

Something fierce. And the single rhyme in this - fate/wait - well played, that bit. (I must confess to be ignorant of the background - saudi arabia? egypt?)

Great humor! I like your imponderables. Ya dun gud. (This ain't a suck up [blow down]. Has nothing to do with you marvelous work here) <Saw you message on my site. Thanks for the visit.>

This has got a lot. Angst, despair and hope said well.

You make me laugh! To me this is a very good thing. Your view is refreshing.

Still fresh from your other post. (Hugs and Kisses That) This one Whap Slap Hiss!

Taken as a trio, this and the last two posts are wonderful. Doves a Loving. I like your style.

And then the Remorse! Such a Soap Opera Living is. Not a slam [this]. You just do it good.

I can't quite wrap around this one. Perhaps it is just such an repulsing thought. Riddled with disease and no longer graceful.

Good angst. Good boredom.

**** POEMERANKER PLAGIARISM ALERT ****

The nuance of ryhme, etc. are lost on me here, but the theme - a declaration of rights, of sorts, has merit. Admittedly, the cyrilic is interesting.

I especially find the last verse very moving. Here is a translation for anyone not so well versed in Russian as I: Wodka - Chicken Kiev, Gorbachev has a stupid looking head, The Duma - a provisional government. Bolsheviks and Mensheviks, The October revolution, Rasputin was an invincible monk, Tatar sauce is nice. Exiled to Siberia, All hail Tsar Nicholas II, The Kremlin, Trotsky, Mafia, Red Square. Alright then - Send him on the next flight back to Russia, In the diplomatic baaaagg!!! Obviously it loses something in the translation.

What a coincidence that you are the only person in the world who has realised that everyone else in the entire world is really stupid.

I expect you must be some sort of free-spirit.

I put your poem through Babel Fish a few times. I hope that you are as pleased with the result as I am!!! The thoughts receive the weapon have loaded it Within the night. Game, like conteggio of the ewes, Russian of roulette; If he is rotated the field, You compress the excursion slowly, To the launching. If he is rotated the field, Tou compress the excursion, To the launching. To the spider of the times I Pressures join in order to send, Acceleration of the return, Pressing in order to send itself, Until the left warning. That anchor to resound scared with the dead women.

Interesting idea, you ask the reader to think whether the alarm scaring you and playing russian roulette with your mind is inconsistent. Viewing death dispassionately without sentimentality I guess, yes good. But why are you scared of the alarm, what could the unknown do to someone who is unafraid of dying. or just a play on the figurative 'scare me to death'