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Hell's Fairground

After his third rotation
on the merry go round of life,
astride his fifth wife,
his heart pegged out by the dog leg
on the crazy golf battle field,
while trying to seal his par.
The keeper, sound asleep,
did not mark his card
or notice her frantically making sure
she’d finished him off there and then,
so she’d kop for the lot,
in the will with the forged signature.
Never put your name to anything
false or true
Its nothing personal
but it will be worst for you
when Doctor Death
comes riding in on his blow torched Go-Kart
to drive your decomposing life
all the way to hell’s hoe down
while inscribing his insignia
deep into your last pound of purpling flesh.

4 Apr 07

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your welcome

to leave this the way it is. thanks for welcoming me here. i noticed that the poem is very normal sounding until you make me smile with line eighteen. i noticed that much of this is actually serious, but not done in a way as to not appreciate this piece. you seem to have chosen a comfortable format for this, as you do with most of yours. as usual, you haven't added an extra phrase, not even an extra word. as said before, i like the image in line eighteen. you reverse the normal use of true before false, i thought that was interesting; it helps make it more your own. which, it already is, but still.

you give me a lot to think about here. i suppose it's a little more humorous than i thought at first, which is always a strength in your writing. i have noticed this with words, like those in line two and seventeen. if i was told to suggest something, i would say write a companion to this. let this deemed companion explain this poem a little more, and give it a friend.

(good luck for all your future endeavors. it is time i dig up some of your past poems.)
 — listen

Dear Listen

As always you give me valuable insight into what I have written.
 — larrylark