[Friend] nods.

[Friend] says 'I wanna see "Anyway, I still don't have a poem".'

[Friend] says 'Consider that a request :) '

You say 'Zonked is the word. But the loquacious sort of zonked in which your finger are running away with themselves in a sort of keyboard-facilitated diarehha.'

You smirk.

You say 'Anyway, I still don't have a poem.'

<snip>

[Friend] says 'Upload your entry and go to bed.'

You smile.

You say 'I dunno; I think I'm on a roll here. :-)'

[Friend] throws back hir head and cackles with insane glee!

[Friend] says 'OK, Don't let me be the one to stop you :)'

You say 'Anyway, I still don't have a poem.'

You say 'By Shmuel.'

[Friend] claps politely.

You say 'Symbols, yes. Both the characters on the page, and the characters in the story, and even a white whale-- no, that's been done to death. That's been done FOR death. That's done, dun, donut, dallying in the dark alleys of the night.'

You say 'And, yes, perhaps rhymes, at times, but not in any regular pattern, of course; can't have any method in the madness. Better to have madness in the method, or at least act like it. No divine chime of the sublime here, buster; if you're in that line, take it outside.'

You say 'And meter? Sure, put a coin in the hat and see where it'll get you.'

You say 'But that's not really enough, is it?'

You say 'No, you want blood, sweat, and tears, but not the rock group, and not anything cliche at that. You want the ginger halo of the sun above the brownstones on Delancy Street and the hint of silver in her raven hair.'

You say 'You want the cobwebs in the corner, the old, dusty books crowding the shelf, the peanut butter in the chocolate, and the protagonist fucking the antagonists brains out on the concrete floor.'

You say 'Well, mayve I don't have it in me. Maybe I haven't experienced enough of life. Maybe I'm not ready, or willing, to confront my feelings. Maybe I'm not remotely visual. Maybe I like emotional detachment, ever think of that?'

You say 'Maybe life is hard enough to deal with in REAL LIFE without having to put it into another damn poem.'

You say 'Well, anyway, I still don't have a poem.'

You bow deeply.

[Friend] claps at your fine work :)

[Shmuel] exhales deeply.

[Shmuel] actually was holding back towards the end there.

[Friend] says 'I get the feeling, however, that I was not able to fully appreciate all the hidden jokes in there.'

[Shmuel] is a bit scared at where he was heading. And the jokes were mostly at the beginning. The end was a cross between a rant and a primal scream.

[Friend] nods.

You say 'Still, for writing as I go along....'

<snip>

You say '...let's just say it's still not as bad as some of the other stuff submitted.'