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20 most recent comments by -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. (761-780)

regarding some deleted poem... 26-May-03/3:16 PM
This is the best, absolute best exploration of human themes I have ever read. You have promise. Use it.

-10-
Re: <Haiku> by Entelechist 26-May-03/4:53 PM
-=Haiku=- (Haiku) by -=Dark_Angel=-

Beauty, wonderment,
Feeling, emotion, truth, love,
Magical forest.
Re: Next To Me by casey 26-May-03/4:56 PM
What were you trying to say with this piece?
Re: The Best This Dream Can Offer by Deborah Carter 26-May-03/5:13 PM
Welcome to Poemeranker. I am -=Dark_Angel=-, the naughty one. You will probably see me again at some point, mocking your tepid, clichéd poemes. Have a good time!
regarding some deleted poem... 26-May-03/6:29 PM
What is this supposed to mean? It rather reminds me of the stories in 'Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark', which has terrifying drawings, but anticlimactic stories which sound vaguely menacing but all turn out to end "but it was really a ghost!" or "AND THEN SOMETHING LOUD AND SURPRISING HAPPENED!!" This doesn't even have those for an ending. Why does it taper off into some kind of horrible adolescent ode to being misunderstood?
Re: Fit In by A Simple Poet 123 26-May-03/6:30 PM
10
Re: Over and Gone by Miggy 27-May-03/5:08 PM
Did you get the inspiration for this from Chris de Burgh?
Re: I Am(Defined) by lil cindy lu who 28-May-03/6:48 AM
Are you saying that:

lil cindy lu who =df
any x which satisfies the predicate (
x has pigtails &
x has freckles &
there is some y and some z such that (
y is female &
y begat x &
z is male &
z is married to y &
~(z begat x) &
x is the toy of z &
z warns x 'don't tell' &
the hands of z are on the body of x &
the mouth of z is on the face of x)) &

there is some y such that (
x loved y &
for all z (
~(y=z) ->
(x loved z -> x loved z later than x loved y)) &
~(y loved x)) &
x has crinolines starched in circles holding poodle skirts wide &

for all y (
(y is Elvis at Heartbreak Hotel v
y is 'I Like Ike' v
y is polio shots) ->
x swoons over y) &

there is some y and some z such that (
y is female &
y begat x &
z is male &
z is married to y &
~(z begat x) &
x smells the stench of z &
the arms of z bind down x &
x is big now &
z cannot get x again) &

x tumbles into love, a dozen times, maybe more &
there is some y such that (
y is a world &
y is around x &
for all z (
(z is a world & z is around x) -> z=y) &
y is changing as Joan Baez sings out, Diamonds and Rust &
the Washington Wall wept, too many lives late) &

x is riding roughened seas &
the boat of x is battened down &
x is facing the storms &
x is trembling inside &
there is rain on the face of x &
~(x is turning back)

for all y
~there is some y such that (
y is hungry and wanting &
y is at home in the skin of x) &
there is some y and some z such that (
y is a ghost &
z is a ghost &
~(y=z) &
y still lingers &
z is routed out) &
x has hands in a fist &
x has arms opened wide)
regarding some deleted poem... 28-May-03/7:25 AM
I suggest you go felch Billy Corgan
Re: I have the widest poemranker homepage by QUENDO 28-May-03/1:47 PM
lol
Re: Plastic Posies by BleedingRose 28-May-03/2:44 PM
This is a bizarre poem.
Re: Obsequies by horus8 28-May-03/2:46 PM
Who the fuck are you, Radiohead?
Re: E tu trabajo el prostitute by <{Baba^Yaga}> 28-May-03/3:39 PM
Write a poeme about the old jew who comes on your face.
Re: Suicide by Alyssa91 29-May-03/8:32 AM
Suicide certainly is an important issue, and one that people are often too afraid to confront in their poetry. For how much longer can modern society function under the pretense that suicide doesn't exist; that people are incapable of taking their own lives; that depression and anxiety aren't becoming increasingly prevalent on today's troubled streets? Time and time again these issues are brought to the forefront of the modern agenda, whether it be through the media, or simply a recent News, and time and time again we're all to eager to dismiss these warning signs under meaningless slogans such as "Drugs", "Prositution", "Suicide", or even "Aborted Foetuses".

I found your poeme refreshing, given the current climate of apathy that seems to be raining down on the very face of modern society. You haven't shied away from the issue of suicide, but have tackled it face on in a mature and sensible way. You've dealt particularly well with the fact that following a suicide, the person who has committed the suicide, rather than being alive, is now dead. I think that's something we should ALL be thinking about, let alone those who are actually considering suicide as a way out because they have been taking too many drugs.

Thank you for your time, Alyssa91. And thank YOU for this poeme.

-4-
Re: While cleaning the aviary by Jeremi B. Handrinos 29-May-03/11:40 AM
---Black bile oozed between Grandfather's lips, and
dripped onto the attendant's bloated abdomen. The
drip became a trickle, which became a steady stream,
and soon he was vomiting a thick torrent of the
shining liquid.
---Where it touched the attendant, it boiled and
frothed and formed a sickly lather, and as it
bubbled it ate away at the flesh. The skin on the
man's stomach was becoming liquid and starting to
slide around. Beads of blood sprang up where the
upper layer had been completely dissolved.
---Grandfather's head lolled forward, and underneath his
bushy, flaking eyebrows, his blind eyes rolled
insanely. With a sudden fluid movement of his arm,
he unhooked the straight razor from its holster and
flipped out the dull blade. It was just as he
remembered.
---His obscenely gnarled hands trembled, and his
breath was rapid. Grandfather hunched over the
attendant, reaching out and stroking the places that
had been prepared by the mucus. His jaw still hung
slightly open as he bent down for a closer view...
---And Grandfather began to shave.
regarding some deleted poem... 29-May-03/12:51 PM
"Catholic" is just another word. "Catholic's just another word" is false.
Re: Obsequies by horus8 30-May-03/7:04 PM
---Plum opened the miniature door and stepped inside. He was in
what seemed to be a reception room; against one wall there was
a booth occupied by an obese young man, and ahead of him a wide
corridor quickly turned a corner. The room was small and lamp-
lit; the dim light and yellowed wallpaper, thought Plum, made
it somehow seem underground.
---There were vast piles of coats in every conceivable place.
Space had been cleared in the middle of the room, but Plum had
to step over heaps of dark cloth before he even had enough room
to shut the door. The highest of the coat-towers loomed,
threatening to topple over. In his mind Plum knocked into one
and it came tumbling down, pressing on him and making him
breathe musty air.
---The man, whom Plum thought of as the attendant, was intently
staring at something underneath the counter of the booth and
fidgeting. Perhaps he was playing with a puzzle; at any rate
he did not acknowledge Plum, and he seemed to be holding his
breath.
---“Pardon me,” said Plum. “May I leave my coat here?”
---The attendant frowned, still concentrating on the activity.
After a moment he let out a long rushing sigh, then finally
looked up at Plum, somewhat accusingly.
---“One pays inside. This is the cloakroom.”
---“Yes, I thought it was,” explained Plum. “I wondered whether
I might leave my coat here?” He gestured vaguely at the piles
as if to justify his question.
---The attendant glanced underneath the counter again, then back
at Plum. He seemed to make a calculation. “I'm afraid this room
is full. You'll have to put it in the back.” He jerked his
thumb toward a doorway Plum had not noticed; it was in the
booth's shadow, framed by stacks of coats.
---“A-ha, thank you.” Plum took a step toward the doorway, then
hesitated and looked to the attendant to make sure he had
properly understood. However, the man was again absorbed in his
unknown occupation, and Plum felt that further questions would
somehow provoke him.
---He made his way around the front of the booth, stepping over a
discarded fur. There was a thick wall of coats just inside the
doorway, long enough so that no light escaped underneath them,
and for all Plum knew the next room was completely dark. He
turned sideways and pushed against the mass with his shoulder;
it briefly yielded, but only to swing back and bear down on him.
He had a sudden fear that if he continued to push, it would
simply surround him and he would be unable to move.
---After a final heave, though, he was through, and he found himself
standing in a long, narrow chamber with a low ceiling, lit by an
exposed bulb. Around the perimeter, forming a rounded oblong,
was a high railing, onto which hangers were affixed; the hangers,
of course, bore coats of all sorts. The space between the rails
was not great, but Plum could move comfortably enough, and he
began to look for a free hanger onto which to hang his own
overcoat. However, the coats were very densely packed, and it was
impossible to tell which hangers, if any, were empty. He supposed
he would have to reach blindly into them, though he felt a sinking
reluctance, for no reason he could name.



---Grandfather slept restlessly. He had finished working for today,
or perhaps he had finished yesterday's work and there was no more
for today. It was of course possible that there would never be
more. However, he was prepared; he wore his vest, though it was
not his usual practice to retire clothed. He was glad he wore it;
the vest gave him an excited, nearly sick feeling, and he knew he
could rely on it. And without having to touch it, he knew too his
razor was in its holster, secured to the vest. At times he felt an
unbearable urge to grasp the smooth bone handle and hold it tightly,
but he did not act on it. Once it occurred to him that perhaps he
could not move his hand at all, but he dared not risk trying, in
case he turned out to be right; and since there was no outstanding
work, there seemed no good reason to do so.
---Although he had been sleeping for some time, Grandfather did not
dream. At least he did not remember ever dreaming, though he often
half recalled events, and thinking about a recollection later it
sometimes seemed to have been a dream. Now, though, he knew he was
dreaming, because in his recollections his heart did not beat, and
his hands did not twitch, and he had not seen so clearly in a very
long time. The mucus rose in his throat; it was warm and thick. He
felt an overwhelming anticipation.
---In his dream, Grandfather was surrounded by dark, heavy coats, and
there was work to be done.
regarding some deleted poem... 31-May-03/12:35 PM
l to the ol
Re: Midnight Dance by Deborah Carter 1-Jun-03/5:54 AM
-=AIDS=-
Re: Dont break my heart by Cali 1-Jun-03/7:36 AM
The worst thing I have ever read. 0.


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