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.