LNIN9

A Positive Critique: •    Does not solely concentrate on a poem's weak points, but tempers constructive criticism with acknowledgment of the good features. •    Is not made up of comments like "well done" or emoticons, as they do not explain why the poem is well written. Comments and emoticons belong in the introduction and summary only. •    A knowledge of technical poetic terms is desirable, but not necessary, to be able to provide constructive criticism. •    Try to keep your thoughts focused on the poem and how it affects you as the reader. •    Explain why you liked or disliked the poem; don't just state the emotion it triggered. •

This hurts me because I want you to like me Want you to see my point of view unclouded As you distort my perception with yours Right now the score card reads zero And there is feelings of animosity upon entrance The pressure to pacify your expressions We only communicate in our own language No one else understands it anyway I think it is time we sat down and talked Stopped all the rhetoric back and forth I have never disrespected you at all But that doesn't excuse your slip ups The distance between us the reasons Like we even have our own safe words How did scared become of substance And I am forever missing your point Just be

Broken lace A tattered dancer Perfumed pink

I like you lost Like a bunch of dead Violets, I revel in the thoughts That we've all lost the onus Of power to all of the un-named Biotic entities, Chiselled from God-fabric. We're unholy creatures – I've realised, it's better to Pour emptiness from beautiful jugs Into the pool of my umbilicus, Then to worship a heart That is not real, In me or any other Human. I'd rather fill my life with Shoes, lipsticks, Barbie handbags And dress after dress That I wear for nobody. Last night I even dreamt Of makeup, Pink spectrums filled my dreams, Pink spectrums in little cream Pots, And not a single pink corona of at

I'm going to plant for me a beautiful garden of weeds with my shovel and little spoon I will dig a pretty little tomb No one will enter, no one will leave they will simply cease to be seen In my garden I will plant butterscotch candies and green eggplants No one will know of my sacred grove in a tiny patch of giant dirt road I will sow human seeds from my axe they will bleed drop them in a hole of air to raise my garden from despair Oh jimminiy crickets go fly go fly into the sky of rye. Jimminy crickets...

you left with her without a word: a speechless goodbye saying more than you ever did.

I want to live where Darko meets Bunny And then watch Frank stare at me and tell me That he can do anything and I can too and he’ll Instruct me on how I should flood my school Cause in my head there’s a future that I’ve seen Where the apocalypse falls on Halloween And I keep explaining things like this to my dumbass shrink But she just keeps writing them off as morbid fantasies And I cannot guess where the rabbit hole leads next When a wormhole opens up over Middlesex But I suppose the end of the world can’t be so bad when Everyone thinks you’re insane And one would believe this thought for food That my l

People Die In Skowhegan people die. In Brooklyn people die. In Altoona and Galesburg and Osawatomie, in Seminole and Shamrock, in Santa Rosa, and Snowflake, and Overton, and Portersville, and Fresno people die. They just drop off of census lists and fall out of phone books forever. Written into diaries and out of wills their lives evaporate into the sky and are inhaled by children playing tag in a neighbor’s driveway. It was in Pico Rivera that you happened to die Jason, just this past weekend in fact, while I vacationed in Ventura and soldiers scrambled for peace through Kuwaiti sands and Good Morning Vietnam finally

I want to spend my days in your dictionaries, solving algebraic expressions and tracing the calligraphy of your monologues. I want to add days to my calendar, enough to pore over every fraction of your existence.

A word describing sensual beauty, smooth skin wrapped in lacy fabric. Soft kisses on slow music, lips and nibbles, laughing over wine. A word like that should be sticky, melting on your tongue like chocolate. But sexy… Sexy? Whispered it becomes a shush, a shadow of a word, shallow and silent. Said out loud, sexy, a scientific statement. Sexy, section, to open, to tear apart. Is that the way to describe desire? Where did the soul go?

What kind of future does mankind have when forever only lasts 2 years?

A midnight aviary Flutters breath And wingspan: Perch to perch, Intercostal xylophone - Oh canary-ghosts Have chirped Through the vaults Of a pump And left The echos Of ancient civilisations: Moss-ridden And velvet, I discover With a Turquoise sigh, Sunk-low And as dank As wet stone.

I can’t define you, you know? and that fascinates me because your like this fantastic, friendly, forbidden piece of real estate that I can’t lay my hands on. not that you’re an object, darling, but wouldn’t you love it if you were? you’re that splash of colour that has somehow painted it’s way over my heart and boy, what I wouldn’t give to be a canvas just for you. it’s a dream, really, a nothing nonsense piece of fantasy that fills my mind every second of the day. I get so sick of it, I wish you’d go away. but then before you know it you’re back in the back of my mind. sure, I’m doing

You're attracted to heart-break, Baby, You like the reek of Night-terrors And wild fire: That ancient fear-lust Of a million nights, The type that Cannot be entombed. It leaks Like the tinkering lip of night – Like an oil spill on precious coral, You come around like a menacing tiger, You wana rip me to pieces, Baby? But I'm sure you Didn't know, That I'm immortal as Cancerous telomerase, With a heart stuck in G0 cell cycle. Do your worst.

He kissed me - I kept my eyes closed. Waiting for something more. But no - that was it, his kiss, not yours. He held me, I was warm, but empty. I kissed him back - taste of cigarette ash... No, he's not you. It's not gonna work - I look for your eyes in his.

I have many other things to do Activities I should busy myself with But that's why they call it an obsession, isn't it baby? The safest thing about you The safest thing about all of this Is I can dream once again Hide so peacefully, smile myself to sleep All in thoughts and fantasies Of what can never and will never happen. The sickest, and the best part, honey, Is that in my head In my dark little chambers I built for you You could never hurt me And everything is so perfect The world is the way I want it I can taste love like how it was supposed to taste No bitterness, no burning in my throat. When shadows and nightmares loo

"Is it hard to find yourself?" sometimes I don't remember, all those nights of wanting, all those days of haunting your footsteps in hope. "Those were days of emptiness slipping into night gowns and day mares and riding us down to the slaughterhouse" but I never really cared, you know, it was the hope that killed us in the end. "They were happy, I'd like to think that they were happy" you were insane, we were insane, I'd like to think they saw it. "They didn't." exeunt

a fenceless garden defenseless and unguarded she watches you grow

24/10/2009 Passing traffic blur And cicada-song burst, While sweat is dripping All over us: A rainy lacquer, Light-refracting body gloss. It all stops. * * * I step out onto Balcony: Burning up Cigarette halos, Watching the jacaranda's Lose their lilac snow, The ghostly curtains Sweeping up a Summer breeze At the edge of Toes – Not realising the whole Time I was Tapping syllables With my fingers Making haikus with My body.