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Father worked Nights, Thats why I am fucked up (Free verse) by bigbigdog
father lived in a factory. he would pound, pound the foreman all night long, never stopping, never saying why. Laugh and scream, pound and pound -- no lunch hour, not even a coffee break.

Up the ladder: The Writing Life
Down the ladder: Untitlted #2

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Arithmetic Mean: 2.875
Weighted score: 4.4284997
Overall Rank: 12925
Posted: September 20, 2002 10:18 AM PDT; Last modified: September 20, 2002 10:18 AM PDT
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Comments:
[n/a] poetandknowit @ 65.101.211.11 | 20-Sep-02/10:41 AM | Reply
Have I hurt your feelings so bad that you attempt to make even a bigger fool out of yourself than you already have? Because you are a plagiarist, most people will not see these poems, but I will direct everybody to bigdog's revenge against Poetandknowit. Everyone, come hither and see the bigdog disgrace himself further. It is like self-flogging, self-humiliation. I do not need to do it, because he is doing a fine job on his own. It is lethal and yes, most of it is stolen. Now that I have your computer number I will be more than happy to have my lawyers call yours. Shall you just give me their phone number?
[n/a] <~> @ 167.206.181.179 | 20-Sep-02/11:08 AM | Reply
you are one stupid fuck, bigbigdog. i don't know where you come from, but why don't you go back there? not only was it a crime to steal ogden nash's words, it is also a crime to steal p&k's. and now it's personal, 'cause you're fucking with a friend. if your goal is to get as much hate mail as possible in one afternoon, hey man, you've got a great start. fuck off, loser.
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