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I will be happy to tell you what I think of some of the commentoritos , particularity the first two,

by tazz31712/09/13
FOR 12/01

I USUALLY DONT CRITIQUE STORIES OR POEMS BUT SINCE YOU ASKED HERE GOES...From the 1st with ref to Shakespeare..Drawings by the moon and street lamps...the grays emerging with the falls approach...while the mirror tells a tale...the Roses being delivered...a reminder of something lost...while in the dim lite hoping here comes the sun,,,mirroring blue skies....YOU ARE CORRECT IN READERS NOT KNOWING OR UNDERSTANDING WHAT THE AUTHOR ATTEMPTS TO PORTRAY like a picture.....WHICH ANYONE CAN DRAW USING STICK FIGURES OR CRAYOLAS....BUT LACK OF TALENT ONLY ALLOWS THE USER TO BE SATISIFIED, If You Can Ken, RESPECTFULLY TK U MLJ LV NV anything I comment I sign, mlj
well, thanks for putting that in perspective, even if I had to pull that out of you,
must be lonely in vegas, so what do you do, if I may inquire LSD TKO? did you crib the Shakespeare from the comments?
by tazz31707/24/13
ACID TO ACID

if you are happy, it was a good trip, TK U MLJ LV NV
do you giggle when you leave these comments of non critique?
 
by tazz31710/04/12
CHANGE THE ATHOSPHERE

and colors and shadows are altered, TK U MLJ LV NV

by tazz31710/29/12
TRIP STUMBLE AND FALL

on the sky-road thru purgatory, TK U MLJ LV NV

WOW I CAN REALLY SEE IT NOW
OSWALD
 
For those of us who don't speak acronymese... What does "TK U MLJ LV NV" mean? Any ideas?
 
For those of us who don't speak acronymese... What does "TK U MLJ LV NV" mean? Any ideas?

I don't speak Tazz, but I've seen enough of his comments to assume he means thank you, followed by his initials and what I think must stand for Las Vegas, Nevada. At first I had no clue what he meant, but I believe that's it.
 
For those of us who don't speak acronymese... What does "TK U MLJ LV NV" mean? Any ideas?
LV NV is supposed to be Las Vegas Nevada
he is supposed someone that doesn't know poetry, yet claims that he always leaves a 4 or 5,
however how can he know the difference between a 4 and a 5, and there has been some dispute over that, unfortunately he is still around.
most comments look like a machine response, and TK U MLJ LV NV looks like a rather unique sequence, but it does respond, so it could be human interface mining.
One of the fun ones in New Poems.

actually someone (I went looking and couldn't find it) had posted what it was, they had sent a PM and got a response, but in the space of two some years and hitting backfiles, if he is human he's dropping acid or ecstasy and giggling, or he is just another poetry avenger.
 
Last edited:
by Anonymous08/10/13
Ripped from at least 4 cunt-western songs

And when the stars come out at night
I dream of holding' you tight/ Kenny Chesney

Fate deals a hand that we all must play. And when the stars go out. The skies have turned to gray. I'm gonna walk on out/The Damned



If you had a case about "when the stars go out" either the Damned would have sued Kenny Chesney or vice versa, it is a stock phrase, but I would be curious as to why you bother going back to 2007 poem to leave me with this trinket, you had with fooled with the Longfellow crap you pulled, that image to the best of my knowledge has never been used.



by Anonymous09/07/13
seeking admiration

It feels like that's what your writing is about...


No, with me it is a hobby, just a hobby. What's it with you, Ahab? Do I look like Moby Dick or somethin'?

Son cœur est un luth suspendu;
Sitôt qu’on le touche il résonne.

Merry Christmas, and I just gave you a head start.
And it does remind me a little about the retort someone had when I recommended something that someone did not like.
And Happy New Year

excuse me while I go rip off it's a wonderful life
 
'seeking admiration'

when i see these kinds of comment, i have to wonder how much is projection; it's not always the case, but more often than not it's the driving force behind them, and the commenter makes the error of assuming the author writes from the same starting place as themselves.

:rolleyes:

bloody writers :cool:
 
YDD
Christmas Eve 2004
one comment
just one comment she had made on something everybody else was afraid to go near,
I no longer have either.
I miss seeing honest comments of value. That was a joy.
 
YDD
Christmas Eve 2004
one comment
just one comment she had made on something everybody else was afraid to go near,
I no longer have either.
I miss seeing honest comments of value. That was a joy.

12/29/13 12:01
he's looking for a comment
while I'm looking for some words
I'm a slacker, I admit it but my comments all are turds
so,
I leave 'em where they deserve to be
and flush repeatedly
down the porcelain altar of anonymity
encircling you and fuckin me
 
Triviality is alien to my poem.
Senna Jawa
funny you should say that, we all know what the point is
Do you read Chinese Poetry Senna?

Because do you think I'm fucking around?
Quartet with Diminished Fifths
“mon cœur est un luth suspendu: sitôt qu’on le touche, il résonne.”
pierre-jean de béranger


I am a lute suspended.
Viola, say, tightly strung.

To your tones, I resonate.
Oh how we do celebrate

the marrige of our two souls
in issue from your f-holes?

Then it was all unmade
when damned Viola played

a bridge of twisted souls
in the Hôtel de la Mole.

I am a lute now upended.
Viola lies done; unstrung.

Note: Merry Christmas, or Happy Katyusha or whatever you celebrate at solstice time, Anon, the comments are on, the voting is on, so I gave you a twofer, because I'm sure there are more than one. Generous me. Ho,ho,ho,ha,ha. Ha.

“mon cœur est un luth suspendu: sitôt qu’on le touche, il résonne.”
pierre-jean de béranger

I am a lute suspended.
Viola humdrummingly sung

The Carrige of Cleavéd Souls,
so F your F'in f-holes.

Oh the sundering overtones,
the trilling devil's tri-tones.
Oh, what the hell!

Go play with
your trombone.
Cornpone.
Note: Eerily similar. As are most. And the rhyming coups, I would hate myself, if there wasn't such a long line in front of me. I don't want too make this too obvious, but...
Son cœur est un luth suspendu;
Sitôt qu’on le touche il résonne.

(sic)
I am a lute suspended.
Viola! Lies.
Roll the drum.

Note:It really was a hoot when you put on black face and threatened to kick my ass. Had me in stitches.
Happy New Year Anon(s), I mean that from the bottom of my somethin.

by Anonymous09/07/13
seeking admiration

It feels like that's what your writing is about...

and then the thought trails off with a flap of sheet

Note: No, its a hobby. And this is just a card to you, poetry adjuster.

Joker__s_Calling_card_by_TimTinhNguyen.jpg

here is another fun one

death.jpg


Now tell us again why oneiria misses the point.
Never mind, oneiria misses when he leads you directly to the point, as did you in your end of the year white sale. Now get off your dusty asses and leave some comments over in new poems, both of you are guilty of the high crime of self absorbed slackerism.
si
absorption is the philosophy of a tampon, and too much yields toxic shock
 
Thinking of Joseph Campbell


Today was a beautiful sunset, as I sat and watched it, picking the chicken from my teeth, not so much for the colors, but for the breeze. Warm. Two blondes with pink highlights, one with a loose skirt that lapped at the cheeks of her ass walked by and I thought "these things too shall pass". The air was rich with languages that I could not comprehend, and I added to it with that cough that only smokers could understand. And flem. But that thought came creeping back in "these things too shall pass". And then...
I decided to have it tattooed on my ass.

Today was a beautiful sunset must be a metaphor, since literally the day even if ends at sunset sill can't be one. God and/or Joseph Campbell must be at work here, since I can't make sense of these thoughts.

Joseph-Campbell.jp-12531.jpg


yeh, it was a wonderful day in my neighborhood.
 
Note from the Stegano pad - the one sheet

One train hides another
assuming they travel on different tracks
but rail lines have switches
and what goes one way must come back

We will never know what happened
when forty-nine hit No. 17
A mess is what you seen
but right there
in plain sight
it was calling me
it was calling me
but the ticket was never punched
so genius to genius
I leave another clue
dig a little deeper
just don't shuffle dirt

the soul of a komodo now in the cold
frozen sea, the icebergs majesty,
the aurora borealis that I can't see,
but the cracks snap me to attention.
the ice sheet below frozen feet?
other than that - I don't care much.
 
12's made me go here

no compelled disclosure
no pressure
no heat
encryption is a
route with a view
when the code's cyan (well, blue)
and we can't trust the poe-leece
so what can we do
when covering tracks
and plausible deniability is
a one-way street?

through a crack in the ice
dragon's breath steams
care where you step
mind the gap
 
Note from the Stegano pad - the one sheet

One train hides another
assuming they travel on different tracks
but rail lines have switches
and what goes one way must come back

We will never know what happened
when forty-nine hit No. 17
A mess is what you seen
but right there
in plain sight
it was calling me
it was calling me
but the ticket was never punched
so genius to genius
I leave another clue
dig a little deeper
just don't shuffle dirt

the soul of a komodo now in the cold
frozen sea, the icebergs majesty,
the aurora borealis that I can't see,
but the cracks snap me to attention.
the ice sheet below frozen feet?
other than that - I don't care much.

Muddy... lots of clues, though...

Might take a while.
 
Thinking of Joseph Campbell


Today was a beautiful sunset, as I sat and watched it, picking the chicken from my teeth, not so much for the colors, but for the breeze. Warm. Two blondes with pink highlights, one with a loose skirt that lapped at the cheeks of her ass walked by and I thought "these things too shall pass". The air was rich with languages that I could not comprehend, and I added to it with that cough that only smokers could understand. And flem. But that thought came creeping back in "these things too shall pass". And then...
I decided to have it tattooed on my ass.

Today was a beautiful sunset must be a metaphor, since literally the day even if ends at sunset sill can't be one. God and/or Joseph Campbell must be at work here, since I can't make sense of these thoughts.

Joseph-Campbell.jp-12531.jpg


yeh, it was a wonderful day in my neighborhood.
This post drew out that poem on the passion thread. You reminded me that living now is far more important than what could have been and most assuredly more than what may or may not occur
 
This post drew out that poem on the passion thread. You reminded me that living now is far more important than what could have been and most assuredly more than what may or may not occur
and all that time I thought you were thinking about the tattoo...
you know, I'm not that deep, champ
any of the supremo poems will tell you that, along with the fact I can't stick rime at the end of the line

either that or you had a hankeren for chicken
damn that could have been a metaphor, why didn't I think of that?
well i just got me a hankeren to write me some prose
since I get tired of hearing about that is all I write
took me about 2 minutes about the same time as the chicken, templated
both the prose and the chicken
writin' poetry witout a template takes a hole lot longer
like 6 months sometimes (or even longer), and its real fun to see how much its appreciated, by tazz and the H stompers
yep, nowsa great time, watchin da trains hidin one another
wonder how long it took obi wan to write the tankas? a templated form
 
the third time the order of May 1st poems have changed, not the first time I've seen it happen, just an observation.
 
I think he means here, Harry.

Indeed, I'm pretty sure DawnJ's "Wrapped" was above NormalJean's "The Problem With Nuts". Not sure what could cause this, but since these lists are generated automagically with tech-no-logic stuff we can't see, I guess we'll never know.
 
Grisaille, my word, paler and more foreboding
then the Grenzschutz of mine verboten youth.
Where do we begin? The beginning- where Adam
the hirsute man sat weary of naming things,
My you've done wonders! The decour! Fabulous!
Ponds all over the place, birds in a large fornication
flying in and out of organic holes.
IS it that the tree of knowledge?
That assemblage made out crab shells
on a pile of fermented grapes
that sits like its ready to explode.
 
sighs matter

when all is grey on grey
and the shit's piled high from birds on the wing
exo-skeletons of woebegone moluscs
set stiff to clatter and rattle
to whistle through the air
in sizzling shards when matters reach explosive-point
grapes matter
a-verdaille
 
After reading and commenting on all the poems in the New Erotic Poetry list ( with the exception of bastards and bastardettes who delete comments )
you know Magnetron, I really am beginning to like you
adds three names to my list
except...maybe...one of these fucks, maybe a false front. Because it doesn't take much to generate text, not the text that I've seen.
 
Chews it, 317 chews it

I got goo on my shoe
Lordie, I don't know what to do

Big eyes 'a' peekin' from the wrathfull clouds
Brimstone 'a' breakin''neath the queasy clods

Oh, Lordie, don't know what to do
I got the goo on my shoe

'n' now I'm all a shakin'
from a poetic mannafestation

'cause I got the goo on my shoe
Thank GOD, it was only gum

To-day my conscience is clear now.
 
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