Children have their innocence and purity for but a short while before the world arounds them feeds them the seed that sprouts their inner beast.

I think you could compact this more and put more focus on the soul-searching, and less space travel.

"The world orbits me here"

That makes little or no sense since "orbit" generally means something around the lines of "to circle around an object after having been locked into that objects gravity.."

Even if you can use orbit in the sense that you've used it in your poem, it still comes off as bad english to me.

Blessed with seven.

Over-all, a mellow but interesting little story- well written, but it leaves me wondering a bit about its purpose (and yes, I'm aware thats a stupid thing to wonder about, but I reserve a pitiful right to express my essential human flaws like a hair-less baboon.)

I'll read this over again in a while, I'm sure that I missed something or failed to notice or process intelligently the story in its entirety. You could sue me though. :)

Blessed with eight.

In all honesty, this poem went beyond me leaky dome.. either its too abstract for me or it causes me to have a brain-fart, or I'm not applying my I.Q., therefor I shall refrain from voting.. perhaps you could explain it to me, most of your works I consider to be enjoyable mind benders, but every now and then I'm left feeling BENT.

I think this piece would benefit from a good edit.. it looks to me that you've spilled emotion rather than crafted a decent piece. Dull use of language also.. you don't want to have a poem come off as over-emotional. But it does offer something to work with.

No vote for now.

You know, as much as I enjoy your ability to craft parodies, can't you find someone other than CLS to use as the punchline? Cuz thats been done to an extreme degree by just about everyone here on the ranker, it was a fad.. hrmm. I need someone to make fun of me.. damnit, darkie needs to do his job, I feel unfulfilled without his comic remarks and being called a "dunce" every possible way from sunday.. I must be bored out of my fucking skull.

take this cursed nine you bastage.

I liked it up until

"and hope to catch a rainbow
and taste it on our lips."

With that ending, it made me think I read an artistic ad for Skittles. Thats bad.

Blessed with eight.

The beginning being more padded and the middle/ending more minimalistic makes this a bit of an odd read.. plus its a little vague how the stanzas relate to each other. Seems like you wanted to embellish the first stanza, then along the way got lazy. Its promising though, I think you could build this into ace material.. then again, thats just my opinion.

A seven for now.

I can imagine cheerleaders singing this at ShitFest, Anus Parade, or the Fecal Olympics. This is lovely, spectacular, and amazing compared to the cheers spouted at a brain-numbing highschool football game.

Grade A Turd Material, Shit-Crumpet approved, worthy of a ten. Be proud, and stand with the honor befitting a Shit-Head.

Enjoyable read, though some of the wording seemed slightly irregular to me here and there- probably just me. Blessed with nine.

Its ok, but then again, this sort of thing just isn't my thing... never-the-less take this blessing of eight and go in peace.

Finally I will be able to prove that you ranker folk are ugly deformed freaks who are completely bloated with fat rolls drowning anyone foolish enough to come within three feet of the blubber shoreline.

It makes me feel as if I'm attending a new age funeral proceeding conducted by an unknown militant cult- but thats not bad, mostly I liked it, but its well.. slightly more stiff than a catholic sermon, to me anyway.

Blessed with eight.

This poem is below your over-all writing ability, lil-furry-poofball.. did you regress? Cmon man, would you add some spice and atleast get the tip of my toes to fuckin sizzle?

As far as wanking poems go, this ones pretty funny.. specially like the lines,

My south paw lover.
My secret choke.
My rare strange glover

Accept my blessing of seven.

You've finally written something that got me feelin hippy go happy sippin acid 'n gettin groovy. Nice work, though I think you could make the last stanza better in someway, it's gold to me. Blessed with ten.

The many wonders, sensations, and assorted smells of the almighty twat & its effect 'pon slithering snakes make for good readin anyday- really liked this stanza:

"My spent seed gumming up a future in you
Worshipped, your insight smells of old blood."

If I'm not mistaken, couldn't this be labeled a ghazal? Anyway, blessed with nine.

Glitters like a petite, fine cut gem, diffracting a few spilt rays of light into a platinum flare. Its been a good long time since you last post before this piece- nice comeback. Blessed with ten.

Wonder why you'd post this under a fake look-alike of one of my pen-names... -shrug- I had assumed that such tricksy impostures are done in order to ridicule.. but whatever- aside from that, I likes it, I smokes it, I crave constant injections of it while waiting for perpetual IV drips. Blessed with nine.

You've out-done my trade mark soup metaphors, and now I remain thoroughly deflated in moldy moistness 'n gritty soil. Take this nine and leave me be- hunched in the sulky droop-lip posture of defeat & smarting humility.

Over all.. its different. I mean to say that its apart from your usual style of penning; its a good read never-the-less.

Blessed with eight.