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Red Fish

This Darkness Is My Solice

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If only this much energy was put to trying to improve something!

Oh my, what a better world it would be.

Audacious words from one who has spent the last fortnight stoutly defending the indefensible, debating a "word" which didn't even feature in the poem in question. And what a better world it would be, had you chosen not to. ;)

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I am going to dub this "The Great Summer Soltice Pissup Of 2008". Kinda sounds like a furniture sale. Another wild snarl about *nothing*.

The only resolution to this is to invoke the Sacred Songfacts Resolution Chant. All hold hands and chant....

"I sofa king we todd-ed".

I'm heading off to the 1000 Islands for 7 days of blissful diving. Don't kill one another.

Ken.

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You know, I don't really like the original post either. But after the turns this thread has taken, I'm afraid to post in this section anymore. :(

You should have no such fear. When you present your work on this Forum, you do so sincerely and with no obscure agenda. You recognise the value of constructive comment and welcome it, even when it does not take the form of fawning adulation. You are not prone to melodramatic over-reaction for effect.

It's an unfortunate feature of life, that when people behave idiotically, they may subsequently be perceived and treated as idiots. You are no fool, and I'm sure that you and your poetry will continue to be treated with appropriate respect.

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Not at all, but they do exist for a reason. Ever heard the "need to know the rules before you can break them" defence? One of my favourite books, "And The Ass Saw The Angel" by Nick Cave (one of the great wordsmiths of our generation), tends largely to dispense with the conventions of punctuation, grammar, etc. yet is awe-inspiring in the richness of its language.

Sorry I'm taking this even more offtopic, but... do you know "How Late It Was, How Late"?

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Excuse me, but let us not forget that this verse of yours sat unattended on the Creative Writing forum for eight whole days, before I not only "bothered to look at it" but also made a constructive comment toward its improvement. (I wouldn't normally bother commenting upon a trivial spelling error within the text, but this was in the poem's title). You immediately shoved my attempt to be helpful back in my face and turned it into a "butt out, foreigner" issue.

I dare say you put effort, heart, soul and attention to detail into the poetry you present here, but for me at least, the purity of your motivation is in doubt. If I thought you published your verse because you welcomed genuine appraisal and constructive comment, I would respond accordingly, but since you evidently don't, I won't. :D

As far as your allegations that I consider you beneath me: codswallop. You patronised me, I patronised you. I just did it better, that's all. ;)

your diatribes go on far longer than some sorties my good sir, perhaps curtailing your verbosity and vocabulary would serve you better without attempting to seem greatly perturbed yet exhilarated by the feel of your own keyboard

while i spent many moons in the exaltation, waiting with bated breath for the day i could loft my prose to the baying hounds of internet celebrity with searing fangs for both mastication and masturbation, ascend up to meet their browbeating, crimshawding approval--nay, judgment--head on and to placate these nostradamus-approved psychoses, i never would be offended by being, as the munchkins call it these days, "owned"; nor have i ever been deeply upheaved by such rudimentary concepts, as the basis of our physiological nature is centered around these rubik's cube-esque emotional "colors," if you will--shame, grief, and depression. only once you torque the individual and inseparable inner cubes to exhibit each side vibrantly colored to nigh-godlike perfection can you truly surmount such frailty. this will undoubtedly--as you have shown many times in recent days, echo in your ear as simply a cacophony that you occlude so that you may better set in your ways.

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your diatribes go on far longer than some sorties my good sir, perhaps curtailing your verbosity and vocabulary would serve you better without attempting to seem greatly perturbed yet exhilarated by the feel of your own keyboard

Sire, your astuteness does you credit.

while i spent many moons in the exaltation, waiting with bated breath for the day i could loft my prose to the baying hounds of internet celebrity with searing fangs for both mastication and masturbation, ascend up to meet their browbeating, crimshawding approval--nay, judgment--head on and to placate these nostradamus-approved psychoses, i never would be offended by being, as the munchkins call it these days, "owned"; nor have i ever been deeply upheaved by such rudimentary concepts, as the basis of our physiological nature is centered around these rubik's cube-esque emotional "colors," if you will--shame, grief, and depression. only once you torque the individual and inseparable inner cubes to exhibit each side vibrantly colored to nigh-godlike perfection can you truly surmount such frailty. this will undoubtedly--as you have shown many times in recent days, echo in your ear as simply a cacophony that you occlude so that you may better set in your ways.
:bow: :thumbsup:

I knew there must be an admirable side to Namahage, lurking somewhere deep within. Even if you just cut and pasted this from somewhere else on the Internet: good stuff.

"crimshawding approval" :laugh:

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