ow. I couldn't read it. great job of "what the hell".

definitely something many folks have envisioned with glee. the rhymes are blatantly forced (with pseudo-poetic grammatical restructuring and all that goodness) ... good for a quick chuckle?

I like that..change without true progress... the word inevitable jars a little with me, not sure why

quite riddling - I want to find the trick inside the writing and answer it.

made me giggle a little awkwardly, not quite getting the hang of it ;)

ha! thanks for the smile, k :)

Indeed.

Last lines: How poignant this would be if it didn't remind us of hallmark cards and the sweet nothings; words combined that sound good-- and say nothing. Your poem plays hide and seek. Hidden is the expression, while the reader seeks the point of the poem. How poignant this would be: If you hadn't tried so hard to be poignant and miserably failed. --------------------------------------------------- No Vote. Though, in all honesty? This should get a zero.

Hrmm. I'll refrain from asking the awkward questions this poem brings to my mind. Blessed with a seven.

The ashes are the heart of all spiritual vitamins. Though this piece has a somewhat befuddled nature? So is the mind of most minds. I likes it. The ending could be made into a seperate and more impactive poem in it's own right. Blessed with an eight.

Your topic is completely dissassociated from your poem. There is no relation. That aside? Your poem started horribly and ended in the mental gutter of Freuds cigar cellar. Pimple... night... light... if you don't have love, mofo, go get a motherfucking NIGHTLIGHT. Zero.

PS: This poem should have been titled: "Touching myself artistically on crack and mexican viagra."

AGAIN... What was the point to this imagery? dull and uncreative imagery, btw. What the fuck are you saying? Are you attempting to seduce us poets with cute juxtaposition of hallmark imagery resorted into stanza and rhyme? I'm repulsed... please don't tell me you tried your best, even when I was pimpled and thirteen years old my crappy teen angst pennings had a point, an over-all message, no matter how worthless or dis-illusioned it was: IT WAS THERE... and for the most part discernable. Zero.

LMAO. Oh god... yeah, Dora the explorer is certainly one shitty childrens show.. NOW.. if they made this into an dora episode... I just might have an interest. Ten baby ten. Goddamn funny.

It is never pleasant for a prostitute to open her legs when she is not wearing panties and has forgotten to douche and annoint with scented oil the rotten twat she possesses. While this poem was atleast mildy amusing? I was left wondering if you ever experienced having to rely on your legs to get from point a to point b... You certainly never got caught in the rain with a ripped tent and no deserted spot of dirt to rest your wearied body upon... You never beheld this "freedom" you speak about. This product? Is jismatic illusions sprouted from a weak imagination. But... it atleast was amusing. Blessed with a four.

While some might say the rhymes are forced? It doesn't matter to me. I can't see how getting redundantly creative with the bunch/lunch rhyme would have improved this poem. It realistically expressed how a real rex would act, it beheld my hatred of barney like Jesus looking with disgust at his foreskin-- And most importantly: It made me laugh. Really hard. And you can't succesfully poke fun at Barney without imitating his classic pimple rhyming schemes... I love you, you love me.... *the sound of a single loaded shotgun and brains splattering on the wall*.... Barney? .... fuuuckkk yoouu youuu...lil...retard..brats...blehhh.

Squatter love is like sex with a tetanus glove. Indeed. Hrmm... I'd say 7.5, but lets just round it to an eight.

This should have been labeled as the future manifestation of haiku in retro jetpack theme. Eight.

You know what a rock is? really? No, not your sad attempt at philosophising: A foundation for a great house. A solid weapon of vengeance. The character of my penis when Angelina Jolie visits me in my dreams. A means to pass time by skipping it across bodies of water. A primate tool to crack hard shells and thus add more protein to it's diet... ultimately leading to larger brain size and walking on two feet, meat consumption and ultimately.... Your shitty attempts at philosophizing. Zero.

Sexual yearning and defrosted penis frozen in mastubatory rigor mortis... But people hate to much. Really. Simplistic expression is cool.. but sometimes the reader is left wanting more. Blessed with a seven.