To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
i woke up and read keats i woke up and read keats, but all i heard, hung over and sentimental as hell, was 99 luftballons (and i watched a hidden archer pop them, one by one) i loved you, with my cup of coffee, and the wretched poison, of alcohol, of life, far from berlin, or stuttgart, or wherever it was they blew them up, only to let them go. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2012-03-06 13:07:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Well, I wish you had chosen PB Shelley. By the way, are you going to let "poetbard" (laughable) zone in on you with his typically awful, oblique and labored (overly carried) euphemisms?... (the mark of one incapable of ever being able to speak candidly.) His one observable talent is to NEVER come up on the right side of any moral issue. "Humpty Dumpty complex"...that would be grotesque even if the context applied. He deserves the last word on ANYTHING like I deserve Rachel's love. JCH