I can never follow any subject you're discussing. Everytime I think I have, you say "you've missed the point" and then start arguing something totally opposite.

I have no idea what you're talking about. I was talking about the jazz singer Nina Simone.

But once again you've written a poem that accepts God but dismisses the likelihood that if there's a God then He's created a Nuders' Paradise in the Beyond and everything He destroys gets to go there free. YOU CAN'T DO THAT.

Truthfully, I want to write a poem about myself having (or having had) a tail. Verboten?

On a related note, I guess we should be glad Shakespeare was a fairy Negro Jew merchant emperor. Otherwise, what kinds of plays would he have written? About bumming the stage-boys, most like.

That's a very good observation, Brittanyy.

However - I, for one, am taken recently with the idea of writing a poem about people born with vestigial tails. Certainly you're not saying only people born with such tails can write poems on the subject? God! How could they??!?

No. That's terrible.

This comment was for SupremeDreamer. I don't know why.

It's a rock desert, and simply awful. The good news is I can now speak Arabic Jive, which is dirtier than anything you can imagine.

Oddly enough, there are absolutely no rats in this desert. That's just a trick made up by the Bush administration to propagandise the war. I'm being serious.

And I don't see how 'wanting someone to humor him with objections' is something particularly desert-rat-like. Or zodiaclike, for that matter.

Either deliberately or unconsciously, you've taken Byron's superfamous line, 'She walks in beauty, like the night' and replaced like every other word.

I'm sorry, that's just how it seems to me. It's almost impossible that anyone could invented the phrase 'She [verb] in beauty, [preposition] the night' independently. And besides, having presumably passed 9th grade, you have to have read the poem. That makes it your responsibility to come up with something that doesn't make people think, 'this is just like Byron's poem, only worse.'

That's not at all what I mean. Academically, it is plagiarism.

The part about simply trying to upset rankers has never been true. Anyway if would be stupid to try, since poemranker users are amazing at not getting upset even over the most rabid cockbattings. I think this is because they're all poets and therefore masochists. And they can justify pretty much anything by saying things like 'he just likes to get people rawled up'. My intention, as always, is always only to point out mistakes. And I've had a change of heart on top of that. QED.

I'm not at all sure that's true.

PS-The part about not having emotion hurts. So, for that matter, does lacking the ability to shit more than once a week, and then only pathetic little rabbit turds. You Americans don't know how lucky you are to shit twice, thrice even, daily.

In all honesty, I've become very curious lately about how this poem does work, if it does in fact work. It seems pretty obvious to me that since for God death is probably pretty meaningless, he'd have no problem killing a bunch of things, or even a bunch of things at once. It would only seem calamitous to humans and some animals, who aren't sure if there's anything after death. To use your image, since God knows the bow'l's only going to be recreated and better (ie, perfectly nude), either instantly or after the Final Trumping, what's it to him if he breaks it. But the bow'l probably thinks, Oh fuck! Why??!?!?

PS-Would you greatly mind making your punctuation consistent?

You idiot. Most humans could not survive in a woman's uretha either, but that doesn't mean yeasts are cleverer than us. PS-your failure to understand the phrase "on average" is the feather in the meatcap you started with that whole 29th century debacle. You deserve to be cockbludgeoned.

No, wait, THIS is the weakest response ever written.

This is the weakest response ever written.

PS-stop quoting my comments back to me, escpecially without rearranging the internal quotation marks. That's simply rude. And besides, it's totally pointless and I'll just end up inserting a bunch of "I, Shuushin, am a chafed anus"-type statements for you to parrot back to me.

In all seriousness, you should read my wedding vows, which I'm having email-forwarded from America especially for you. In one part, we actually promise to love each other until we stop loving each other. They're a model for not promising more than is deliverable, and should be taught in grammar school.

No I didn't. No, it's not. And no I didn't.