Watch this space, huh? In a few years wired and mystery dream girl could be in the running for "Oddworld Forums Best Couple"?
The Chameleon was great. Haiku's are brilliant, getting so much said in three lines! Really feeling for you already dude!
As for the second one, it was very good as a whole. A couple of things could do with a look-over, some of the rhymes seemed a bit desperate, like you were trying to hard to get it to rhyme.
But all in all, fantastic, powerful stuff, give it some more time and practice and you'll rich and famous, own a big house in the country and 2 snmall islands somewhere near Australia. As your fandom and huge reserves of cash grows, your poetry will gradualy turn from love to materialism and how you feel it is crushing your soul. You'll gve everything you own to charity and move into a small flat in Birmingham. There you'll write poetry from the depths of your heart, but find that people have lost interest, the times have moved on and you've been left behind. In a fit of depression you'll cut off your own ear until someone tries to sue you for ripping off Vincent Van Goth, you'll have to have your ear surgically reatached and cut off an arm instead. Then you'll find yourself unable to rite much of anything, you'll be kicked out onto the street where you'll beg for pennies, until you're picked up by a rich gentleman who'll remember you from your days of great success. He'll take you into his home and you;'ll spend the test of your life leeching off his hospitality while the BBC makes long boring and over-dramatic documentaries about your life and the world wonders what ever became of one of its greatest poets? On your death-bed you'll hand the kindly gentleman your final book of poems, which he will send out into the world where it will be praised and celebrated as the best poetry of all time. Your legacy will last for the rest of mankind and be used to torture Literature Students until they all go mad and curse your existence before remembering you're already dead and feeling rather stupid about the whole thing. Then they'll make a statue of you where the Birmingham flat you lived in once stood, and everyone will suddenly forget who you are.
So, no worries.
Poetry
