So, uh... what are you doing later? ;]

Personally I'd leave the whole thin out and try again.

"Pollack praise her colorful retort" uses the telling word "colorful" and needs a comma after "praise." Would be better to show a colorful retort.

When Lorena Bobbit cut off her husband's willy the women in my family just laughed and laughed. I think it was something like the O. J. verdict for women. It's getting to the point that it's not safe to be a cocky white guy anymore.

Hopefully someone will take the time to read this...I know I wouldn't.

A pleasant surprise to find this on my first look back, still it is marred by the iambic errors as noted. "I cannot watch it because I won't pray" is not iambic pentametre, but "I cannot watch because I will not pray" is, while admitting that it is your poem and not mine I fail to see how the 2nd line would detract from the message. It is true, that in longer poems, such as that which I just posted tthe iambic pentametre can become a soporific, but in a vilanelle or a sonnet, a part of the enjoyment of reading one is the fluidity of the construction. Any way, nice work, but keep working on it.

As a read it could be a bit smoother. At the moment its like walking across a sheet of ice that's braeking up, the bits are all disconnected but you can see how they would fit together.

Sounds like teenage angst, which aught to be the title of a song.

Its nice to somebody is happy.

But where is the chorus??

Light verse, such as this, is traditionally strong on rhyme and rhythm, which is what makes them stay in your head, while this has some rhyme it appears to have no rhythm at all which makes it less than it could be.

Stanza 4 = the worst of them all.

To be honest, I didn't really get this until I read your responce to ALChemy. Though, to be fair, this is a very "artsy" poem and thus should be difficult to get right away. Anyways, I love it now...especially the last line. Well done.

It's a common theme, but honestly said. I think you could say is half the words though.

A man is about as happy as he makes up his mind to be—Abe Lincoln Hunger not for Justice. Yep, that about sums it up. I'd write a poem almost as good as this one if I had a few more words and another glass of wine.

I was disappointed that you didn't build on, "which was thicker: the smoke or the smooth rhythms." I like this part: "She was gone,and much like his heart, her cigarette was left smoking in the ashtray" But too much of it tells us what is going on, which is ok in some poems, but not in a story. Lines like, "He immediately fell into his routine of extreme sarcasm and politically incorrect dialect" could better be replaced with story. Some parts give so many comparisons, it's dizzying: "The hazy lights of the club,like spotlights in the fog, made her eyes glow like the deep ocean under moonlight." Fewer words, please.

As already mentioned there is very little in this for the reader, after the first gust of, oh not again it just gets boring.

I would agree you need to tidy it up, or cut out the line breaks and call it a prose poem, as a small tightly written story it could be great. But consider. "It had felt like god had reached down to manually pump the blood through his body." This is an excellent image, one of the strongest in the poem, but it would be better if you dropped the 'had' and left it in the present tense, also god should be God, if you mean the middle eastern deity who is the one and only of his kind, however if you are referring to simply one member of a pantheon then it should 'a god' or 'some god' I will refrain from commenting on any other stanzas

Without being unkind, and in the realisation that your personnal suffering is quite real, can I suggest that as poetry this is pretty boring, I have read pretty much the same thing thousands of times. The feelings are not uncommon, and while that doesn't make them less painful for you it should make you realise that if you wish to put them into a poem that others are going to read, and if the poem is going to be a success then you have to offer something that the 100,000 or so people who have already written this same poem, in different but uninspiring ways had to offer. There is more to good poetry than putting your feelings on paper with a set of line-breaks. Some other conventional punctuation would help also.

It would work better, in my not-so-humble opinion if you had the metre right, as in--------- I once had a friend all in black, Who felt a sharp twinge in his back. With his blood on my knife, He fled for his life, So we never quite got in the sack.