#1
A love poem. Take it for what it's worth.

I don't care if you are sick.
Kiss me.
Shove that common cold-coroded tongue in my mouth
and down my throat and taint my stomach.
That's love.
Not giving a shit.
Twisting and burning your insides.
I think that best sums it up.
Shoving a syringe in your bloodstream,
squirting it in your palms, smearing it
on your mouth, jumping on her car and leaving
little blood kisses on her windshield.
That's the long and short of it.
That's mazel good things.

Swipe the chemo medication and pilot a doomed
passenger plane.
Into a shark!
Or a bear!
Or a vampire!
Love is not having to fuse rib cages:
It's being born like that, with your ribs
double-ribbing like a mutated wishbone.
Time eats out the girl.
And space sucks off the boy.
Until space and time kick you both out (until that
spedometer overheats; until that stop watch
gets stepped on) and you both spend the afterlife
watching from Wisconsin from the turnpike.
Love is a comic strip.
And it was never funny.
But get the two of us together and you'll
have to charge tickets to our hijinks!
Swap a high-five and meet me behind the bleachers for
the lung fusion, lover.
Poor advice.
#2
I like it but I don't really see it as a song, but maybe it is not supposed to be a song. For a poem or another type of writing it is really good.
#3
.

I don't care if you are sick.
Kiss me.
Shove that common cold-coroded tongue in my mouth
and down my throat and taint my stomach.
That's love.
Not giving a shit.
Twisting and burning your insides.
I think that best sums it up.
Shoving a syringe in your bloodstream,
squirting it in your palms, smearing it
on your mouth, jumping on her car and leaving
little blood kisses on her windshield.
That's the long and short of it.
That's mazel good things.
From the top: nice alliteration in the third line, works well and keeps the flow going which is often hard to do with repetitive linguistic techniques. You could probably remove the first "and" in the 4th line. The ninth line is the weakest of this stanza/verse. You create the image of injecting yourself, but then on your palms which is not a logical progression, Just rework that bit and it's sorted. Apart from that nothing else to say on this verse


Swipe the chemo medication and pilot a doomed
passenger plane.
Into a shark!
Or a bear!
Or a vampire!
Love is not having to fuse rib cages:
It's being born like that, with your ribs
double-ribbing like a mutated wishbone.
Time eats out the girl.
And space sucks off the boy.
Until space and time kick you both out (until that
spedometer overheats; until that stop watch
gets stepped on) and you both spend the afterlife
watching from Wisconsin from the turnpike.
Love is a comic strip.
And it was never funny.
But get the two of us together and you'll
have to charge tickets to our hijinks!
Swap a high-five and meet me behind the bleachers for
the lung fusion, lover.

I enjoyed this verse less. In my opinion it feels like two poems stuck together. The first one really doesn't have that much in common with this one, only loosely can they be classified as "love" poems, as this is far more abstract than the other one. But, that said, I think you need to rethink the first 5 lines. I know you have tried to go for a list of 3 , but I think it's unnecessary in this case. Just choose one of them and leave it. Or scrap that section altogether and start with the "love is not having to fuse rib cages" bit, which is the strongest section of the verse. I like the next two lines, they are a clever way of getting your message across and create some pretty weird imagery. There's a grammar error in the fact you can't watch "from Wisconsin from the turnpike" but thats probably a typo. The ending is OK but doesn't really end it strongly enough considering the strength of the rest of the poem.


Overall I really liked this on first read. But I think when you read it back it becomes more obscure, however, the imagery and lingustic techniques used show real flair and ability and this could be an excellent piece of poetry.

CINDY
#4
Shoving a syringe in your bloodstream,
squirting it in your palms, smearing it
on your mouth, jumping on her car and leaving
little blood kisses on her windshield.


I swear I've read that somewhere, quite possibly it was Anthony Kiedies' autobiography, I'm not sure, but Ihave definitely heard that somewhere.

Overall, as usual, I enjoyed this one, I loved the first six or so lines, they were really strong but simple, and the second stanza just went into the theme just a little bit deeper.

Good work, once again. That's all I say to you.

Any chance of a small comment back on my latest, in my sig? Many thanks if you do.

Jamie