I disagree with your premise. I am sorry you aren't aware of many old men that don't fit this stereotype. I'll try not to write about a woman's relationship with her mother to avoid the same trap.

As written, it's more story than poem.

"as only just you got dolled up in a dark blue midlife crisis" seems bad for two reasons. Grammar, but this is not simply a matter of grammatical orderliness, it's a matter of clarity. Second, "dolled up" clashes with "midlife cricis." The last 2 lines are good.

So, why would you feel the need to mark all of my poems with a zero? It just seems out of charachter for you old timer. Really, I want to know!

There is a certain lack of the truly poetic here, no real rhyme, rhythm or elegant use of language, if you take the line breaks out it is just a simple statement.

This is undoubtedly the worst thing of yours I have ever read. The content is a highly erroneous sweeping statement and the form is nothing really.

I would have to disagree with Dovina, this is a bland mediocre expression of teenage infatuation. The use of punctuation, and the correct form of the first person singular would also be a step in the right direction.

Yuck. The punctuation is awful, and I definately would change S2L3.

The past simple of forsake is forsook not forsaked.

I was trying to figure out the rhyme scheme. I see in the first two stanzas you rhyme lines 2 and 4. Then a five line 5th stanza with a rhyme in lines 3 and 4. was this the plan?

>>all you need to remember is that all I need is you<< What about air? Food, water? Toiletpaper, clean bedclothes, dental care, money to pay the rent? If you are all HE needs he'll take care of that, of course. True love is a fallacy. And usually the gilding rubs away rather quick. But perhaps I'm a grouch. You know, the kind that spoils teenage parties. I know everyone has to start sometime and somewhere, but I so hate the mentality behind poems like this one. Your marital life is going to be a huge bore, sweetie. Like millions of others.

http://www.lotsofjokes.com/cat_312.htm They Are plagiarized. Here is a sight with all of the above located on the same page.

Oh, but we are meant to be understood in our subtitles of language as we drag accross your eyes with pearls meant only to adorn.

Doesn't make sense.

Dylan Thomas, even though he attended a famous surrealist convention in London with a teapot full of string offering to pour people a cuppa, always strongly maintained he was not a surrealist, because that involved using images from the subconscious directly without mediating them. He argued that, while he was happy to use such imagery, he had to artistically arrange them and make them fit his own poetic vision - he could not abide the sense of randomness inherent in true surrealism. And basically what you've done is to fall into the trap of bad surrealism, which is just to stick a load of images together without any thought for anything much.

This poem captures a poignant moment in the healing process. The hesitency to voice the nature of the transgressions represents an obstacle to healing, while the capacity to at least allude to the issue represents hope.

Pherengi rule of acquisition #73: You could afford a ship without your government -- If it wasn't for your government.

You capture the imagery of the cycle well, without accidentally endorsing it. The contrast between the she wolf's immortality attained through submission to death and the drug abuser's tenous cling on mortality gained with the sacrifice of her child is superb. The double meaning of the last two lines is excellent. I'd be tempted to use "aborted attempt," but that could misfire.

Here's your reference points: Culturally fated to the Incinerator - Hell Cathode ray ether Offering a pleasant Numbness - TV I think you can take it from there.

Is man good? It would be an important claim to make, especially if it is false. It is better to leave God or the gods out of the process of defining goodness if we wish to be included as good. The means of doing so usually involves obtaining instructions and a sharp instrument from the wife and/or mother of the reigning patriarch. One implication of a poem like this is that the pen might be the instrument.