you know i swere that exact thought process has gone through my head before, compleate with spelling mistakes. and i just found out that they tend to say yes more often than no, but i think there just trying to be nice, witch is fucked up, cant they just be truthfull? fuck it... anyway -10-

interesting. who or what is mystery lady.

I know what you mean about things that work really well live vs. on the page. I think the ideal is to have both. While I appreciate the inclusiveness of the "slam" approach, too many poets who excel at performance skate on their persona or dramatic presentation while their actual poems are not very good on their own merits. I see no reason why a poem can't work on both levels. Tension and release can actually be notched up when a piece is tightened. I think that is where craft really comes in. Make every word earn its place, do its work, and get rid of the extraneous stuff that is flaccid or that tells me about it instead of making it happen for me right there. I tried to play around with the line breaks as well to accentuate or multiply the levels of meaning, as well as the tension resulting from halts in breath. Here's my edit of Nice Car. > > The light > turns green. > The Maserati > doesn't move. I > honk the horn. > Cell-phone glued > to his ear, glaring into > his rearview, the driver > inches across > the intersection. > My jeep rattles > to clear yellow > gone red. > > > Next stop he swerves > alongside. The > window slides down. > "In a hurry, > Old Man?" GQ suit, cool > comparable shades. I say > nothing. > "Jealous of my ride, > Loser?" > > I remember > what I can > about cars, > clubs, personal > trainers, big deals, > booze, drugs, women, > drugs, 12-hour marathons > at the office, the night shift > to party, naps, drugs, more work, my > wife, kids. Finding someone else > in my bed. Lawyers. Divorce. Lost > assets, family, love. Support > payments. Burned-out > clutch, banged-up > Jeep. > > Before I can say, "Dude, > better slow down," > the light changes and he's gone, zero > to 60 in under 8, and I can't help > but think, > "Nice Car... Very nice car."

I can't tell if you're trying to be dramatic or doing a send-up. If I could find the strength, I would tell you about the time, not that long ago, that a lonely poet finally had enough and laughed until he cried, blew his nose, and continued on his way.

I see you are back you big fat prat.

magic mushrooms?

very good well thought out

no good no vote

A lot of what you say is right London is a shit hole but some nice bits mixed in Im a delivery driver I was there yesterday And i couldent get out fast enough.

Whew!!! i was worried that something had gone wrong with the 'ranker.

lose one of the (?) at the whats that point and combine. Perfect

i could deal with some happy pills right a bout now -10-

how many times did you and John are work on pieces together? (10)

If I were there, would you shoot me? please.

I count my friend on the middle finger of my hand that is left.-10-

I do.

A flatulent blow hole waiting for high tide.

One of the better things I have read on here, well done!

Good Imagery

I think it was pretty, but they're right it's not really poetry. I don't have the right to talk really, but you didn't call it a poem it's a letter right.