The ABoriginals just confuse me. Is she an imperialist? What? This loses me. Pink coils? See a doctor. What?

You seem walking in circles within a supposed enemy which is simply the way of things.

Apart from the last two lines, which I don't like because they seem over-sentimental and Romantic, this is ace. teh first stanza could be a poem by itself.

Dear bleedingrose, You've made a grammatickal (or otherwise-sensickal) mistake in nearly every line of this post. Please, please stop offending the world with the terribleness of your writing. Thanks, zodiac

I've come back after a long time away from the 'ranker and found this - this is great. It's a perfect couple of moments. Well done.

"Pluck at me, guitar-boy-fingers," good line. Sing to me, love it.

Please ignore zodiac. You have some errors, but punctuation would cure a lot of them. You have something to say here, but it's too verbose and not well organized. Don't give up.

Upon reconsideration, I think this is the sort of poem that if read aloud by a spirited personality would carry an amusing and important message. Some poems are just made to be performed and some poets write for the stage. Cheers.

"stairring" is something I'd never contemplated before. I really have _no idea_ how to read this. The words seem to strive for an entire lack of coherence.

Supreme Dreamer says it all except that the last line in bathetic - that weak final rhyme lets the whole structure down. Also ;It could of been; - 'it could have been'. 'Of' is not a part of a verb and never will be. Jeez, I'm sorry you're taking all this crap over your grammar, but I think it's because people see something they like in your writing and really want you to get better.

Docking, the next Perversions needs to include docking! <3 Jason

I'm sorry, I know a lot of peole think really highly of your stuff but I find this verbose, navel-gazing, self-regarding and, worst of all, unmusical and unrhythmic. This sounds like prose and rather than expressing your 'insanity' merely goes through the motions of explaining it; the ultimate effect is extremely unconvincing.

I admire the spirit behind this but the expression is too simplistic and cliched to really make me feel the force of the poem. This states a case rather than creating an imaginative response to inequality; perhaps you could try creating a character or a voice that expresses what you mena without resorting to bald declarations?

You still have the most disgusting upper legs I've ever seen straddled by a lapdancer.

Dream it all out in super anger my friend. My we never whine with retarded emotional bagage, it always makes men mad amd us sad. Here's to calling each other names and writing rank poems and making up. Cheers.

I thought the potato famine was caused by potato blight, not drought. If your poeme does indeed turn out to be historically inaccurate, I do hope you will withdraw it from poemeranker. Sincerely yours, Cornelius Bum

Time is not our curse, nature transcient cannot be placed @ THE FEET OF TIME , to choose to make an enemy of time is not to understand that without time even our our existence becomes a nullity, a void we cannot reckon with. In life unend we have in a way subvert the conspiracy of time, even when you mean to say death.

At least you're thinking about someone other than yourself, which you never used to. But you still can't punctuate (stanza 3, line 1 - ditch those commas) and you're still writing extended Hallmark card greetings and I'm baffled how you get these high scores. How does a flame emulate the stars and the moon, which are non-flickering, non-flamelike things? What does the last line of stnaza 4 actually mean?

Time is not our curse, nature transcient cannot be placed @ THE FEET OF TIME , to choose to make an enemy of time is not to understand that without time even our our existence becomes a nullity, a void we cannot reckon with. In life unend we have in a way subvert the conspiracy of time, even when you mean to say death, this is why "in the ending" a "beginning" can and would be.

No one cares about your poetry, my comment is the first on any of your work for 6 weeks. Do you get the impression that the we are all getting a little tired of your preconscious, childish ramblings?