DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Free verse № 16319

Father worked Nights, Thats why I am fucked up

Member since 2002 · Posted 20 Sep 2002 · 2 comments

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.

Rate it

0 is the worst, 10 the best. Pick a number, add a comment if you like, then send it. Keys: 09 pick, Enter sends.

mean 2.88 weighted 4.43 rank 12912 views 98 View voting details →

8 votes so far. Yours would make 9.8 votes so far

2 comments

[n/a] poetandknowit 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] <~> 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.