Fuck fate, manifest your own destiny and steal the devils luck.

And if she/he does not take notice? Or if they do, but are solitary to a wicked and bitter degree, and silence you? What then.

"Save me! Save me!"

You know what most people say? They recite eminem:

"I can't be your superman..."

Social Taboo- Fine by me. I'm not horrified. Cliched Plot- Forgivable since it's a well written piece, despite the crudely placed line-breaks.

But that crap about Indian statues (erm, native american pseudo totem poles) in front of barbershops?
You happen to be getting your American culture 101 from back issues of 'Yankee Life'?

For your information, there is usually a twirly candycane poll in front of barbershops. This, I believe is a old trick: its candycane appearence makes little girls think it's a candy store, and so they happily follow mummy to a close enough distance to the door-- where then mummy can easily drag her in and demand the barber to slice off the childs' wild, waist-length curls. Afterwards, mummy takes a photo to capture the horrid memory of the lil girls first haircut... Precious, isn't it? ;)

I'm reminded of my mother. And of my father.. and again of the circumstances of their polar coupling.

VileCandyMeLikesAndFears. Lick, nibble, withdraw, consume with passionate gluttony.

This one my friend stumbles, and stuggles to fit the form. That, and also one is left wondering: "what is the meaning or signifigance of the desert plant agave?"

Be blessed by the angels of seven.

The widow was a metaphoric personification- demons, goddess, infant ghosts, etc are various dimensions that make up the whole. Or thats how I interpreted and construed the fourth stanza anyway.

"older than her" is good as is...

Savoring this piece was a pleasure Caducus-- fulfilled and blessed in my kinship with its nostalgic melanchony and subtle yearning. A Recherche Ouzo to behold indeed.

Perhaps putting a little more thought and taking your time editing the molten verse would result in a more refined and satisfying fruit-- Something more likely to ferment well in the readers mind.

That is, if you're lookin to sharpen the bite of that ruffled 'n dull quill dribblin all-over your desk.

Three be it's mark, its soul dull & stark.

a still-born reaching and flailing in the mental ocean-- splashes mark the day the seadragon failed to grip substance and seize the graceful brilliance of the sky.

Blessed with five.

You'd be better off without these parts methinks-- tad pimpled and cliched bits:

"But in the air
the song still hangs
and justice floats
away in floods of blood.
Making rivers out of streets"

&

"Ask yourself.
What should we do?
What should be done?
Or be like the rest
and say fuck CNN.
and turn Baywatch back on."


That aside, here's a seven.

Sorry bro, but the scene over-all feels dead and lifeless, just like the fresh cut grass stickin to my homeless ass. -no vote-

Beatiful... I wish I was you under the chestnut, bonin that girl.

I just recently got out of jail... and so this piece catches my fancy quite well. Nine.

It's amusing... to a certain point. Most noticable is the lazy manner in which the humor was applied. But mispelling sodomy is a little step closer to actual genius.

Then again, I could be sprayin' absolute bullshit.
Seven.

Cliched, not at all original, perfect example of emotional teenage dribble. Try to cut down on the use of "I", that is, if you wish to strengthen your writing a little.

No vote.

Aggression on meth & lsd with a lil hippied theism.
Perhaps a little rough to follow, but I like it.

Have an eight.

"where thousand of perilous burns,"
--Perilous what? Wheres the fucking noun man?


"to refrain from that fatal burns."
--Trying to sound fancy & sophisticated? 'That' is singular, 'burns' being plural... wouldn't it have been more intelligent to say 'those'? Oh, yes, don't forget that the missing noun in the beginning confuses it all, unless you intended it as a noun there too- which still makes little sense.

"That they are right as a trivet"
--What the fuck? Did you disconnect your brain from your fingers when typing up this shit?


"alas happened to be the dweller of that land."
--Now this is plain cheesy and fucking gay.


I won't bother continuing, other than to add that using 'Envisage' was idiotic, thesaurophilic, & silly.

Your views on Iraq are cliched, and frankly I don't give a shit. Zero.

Groovy. Last two stanzas are my favorite part, not to say that the others weren't cool, [great use of metaphor] but the last two nailed it all in for me.

Ten.

Oh! The nostalgia. Written well, but doesn't really tickle my fancy man... sorry.

Anyways, here's a seven.

You should cut down on the use of "I" to a bare minimum. It creates a kind of drone within a poem, when used too much. Also, the way you describe this loser is cliche: trekkie, living with mom & pop, needs to get laid... Try to be a little more creative.

Overall, I give it a six.

Sounds like me and my relationship with methamphetamines... rotten teeth 'n payin for my piper.

Then again, perhaps my ability to relate to/comprehend your poem is miserably crippled.

Six.