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Prose Poetry Education Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Education

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In seeming innocence you lie upon the warm ochre
about the edges of the dust-strewn street,
a remnants of larger issues, crushed to just the right size by a killing blow.
Before the mob merged, before cat calls raised the hairs on the back of her neck,
she had been of a favorite pet, a cherished wife.  
A mother now lays dead, brought down by the bloodlust of the men around her.
Today, the stones are coated rust-red with the blood as the of women of Iraq 
are laid low by their husbands, sons, and fathers. 

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Words Of Wisdom To My Child

You grow so fast, already showing glimpse of awesome creativity and transform discoveries from the industrious nature of your observations so squat at my feet and raise your attentive head up high to be equipped for this compulsory journey oh sweet creature of my seed. My hands of your molding and chastisement are already the processing engine of your refinement my strong willed mind and love soaked heart complete the stages as you hold steadfast to the train I’ve prepared for you Listen attentively as I perform this segment of my duties and lets take a tour round the routes of wisdom and gallivant the landscape of experience while I pedal your feet and smoothen your soles Seasoned flavored virtues are an armour through which life’s shots are overcomed and a colourful behaviour becomes a saviour in times of need Labor not your whole life in chasing vapour for out of vigour, flour is made from wheat, Bread from flour, but all for a time of enjoyment and satisfaction Guilty syndrome is exhibited when a person answers unasked questions and don’t force out jokes from your head or else people will think your sense of humor is on a life support Sunset is no accuse for the clock to stop running ad infinitum thus, an excuse is like a punctured umbrella it’ll still not stop the invasion of raindrops Your natural desires are borderless, but your ability to strongly control them is what makes you distinct from other species in the animal kingdom Love has no prefix, suffix or adjective it is what it is and as powerful as causing natural instincts to be abdicated in favour of kindness just for the carnivore to embrace abstinence. He who begins a tale becomes its reference don’t say what you cannot defend in court rumour is a bad odour which spreads beyond the neighbourhood and puts a noisy siren on your personality Bad companionship will lead you to the garbage and corrupt friends will join others to marvel at the immortality of your adopted stupidity Wash your face every morning with these words and take your every meal with these lines then would they be spices to which your life is preserved.

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Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

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Poiesis on poetry

Inception of poise anon-times.) And burgeoning..! 

"Plays" of & to; each entered instance...

To posterity through eternal inference..!

Copyright 20 12 2011 Joe Maverick..

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Mellors math teacher

this poem is dedicated to my Mr mellors i hope he reads this

The Cop, The Math Teacher, The Guide you've been there for me when i was confused and could not see the forest or the path you were there when school was hell and life was black as midnight you were there when i screwed up and found myself trapped by my own mistakes even though i disappointed you at times and made you want to tear your hair out you were there you've always been there and cannot thank you enough Thank You Mr. Mellors

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7 Gifts of the Holy Spirit Prayer

Lord God,
Stretch our mind/s with deep understanding of Wisdom
To obtain positive understanding with every complications
Counsel us with guidelines in our work

Give us Fortitude, strength, Patience and Tolerance to finish in peace successfully
Deliver knowledge in our mind/s
For us to receive Piety, goodness and devoutness to get satisfaction
With Holy Fear of the Lord-God, I/we ask in the name of Father Christ Jesus to be with us now and forever.


People can change the “our” to “their”, “him” or “his” when praying for others.

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	It was kind of nice having money all the
	Looking back when I was seventeen,
		I looked forward to going to work.
	It is unlike what I feel about work now.
		I did a lot of reading as a child.
	I read all kinds of books.
		I would consider Oak Lawn a safe
	Community then. 
		I can’t remember any times when I got beat up.

	I did a lot of running home and telling.
		I avoided a lot of suffering by talking to
		My parents about the bullies.
			It wasn’t until junior high that I had to
		Take care of a fight that went way wrong.
			I was scared to death of a seventh grader.
		I fought him, and found out he wanted to 
		I wasn’t that good of a 
			Wrestler then.

		I got better
			In high school.
		It was kind of chaotic, and the wrestling matches
			Were more “fighting” than wrestling.
		I hung in school and made a name for myself
			At Oak Lawn Community High School.
		My sister gave me a collection of albums
			My junior year.
		I was introduced to all kinds of music by

		My first good introduction to music came
			My sophomore year.
		A friend introduced me to “The Police” with
			“Zenyatta Mondatta” and “Ghost in
		The Machine”.
			He told me what he did at his party
		In eighth grade.
		They sat around and played Gin.
			They drank soda.
		They went bowling.

		I got off to a late start with music,
			And I finally caught up with my tape-
		Radio I got for Christmas my junior year.
			I could have had a big party,
		But I decided to wait.
			I didn’t really have one except
	 	The one’s I had in grammar school.
			My friend thought he was going to
		Get married to this one girl at O.L.C.H.S.
			It fizzled out like my relationship did.

			That girl liked someone else though.
		I should have given up calling her,
			It was no fun talking to her.
		She didn’t talk to me at all in school.
			I’m not sure she even knew who I was
		In lunch.
			I didn’t have anymore classes with her.
			Her boyfriend went out for basketball
		Like I should have done.  I was pretty good.  Maybe just
		Doing my chess and studying was the best thing for me to do.


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That Which You Criticize Is That Which You Become #3.

In these cases, the mind and body become contaminated and such individuals are 
understood as such by all whom come into contact with them. Those with limited insight are 
subjected to intensified ongoing experiences of the things they deemed offensive. Because 
they ignore the causes and effects of karma, they accumulate the effects of their negative 
examinations. They become all that they judge. They become arrogant and ignorant. They 
fail to contemplate their own faults because they naively deny the presence of them. This is 
the worst kind of mindlessness. The presence of such individuals defiles those around them. 
Their venom is ongoing and overflowing, making them abhorrent to all but their own kind.
Karma is a universal law. It is experienced positively and negatively. Karma is based on 
cause and effect in which good happenings and bad circumstances are experienced. The 
effects of karma transcend life times then blend into all future incarnations. Its consequences 
are summed up by Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount: “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall 
obtain mercy….Judge not, that ye not be judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall 
be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” This is a 
truth that is not determined by higher education or social status, it is understood and 
embraced by those whom operate on a higher spiritual plane; for, it is realized that a 
person’s quality lies in the heart, and that is all there is.

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Diction ENglish grammer proper nouns predicates verbs learn the way the language 
works then grow up to be a poet and throw it all away today to make new words to 
make poems bleed to make the rhymes the prose doth need. Shakespeare is an 
affluance. He rubbed off some on my purple prose. O God! how wonderful are Thy 
works! Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks of violets, and from the 
stagnant pool at Thy word springs forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and 
beauty! Sonnet #3,000,745,001 OH LORDy 
OH LORDy, howe wondrous is thy working beauty. Thou doth makest the rott sprout 
violets from olden logg on water bank nearest stagnant pool whilst at Thy WORD the 
lotus springeth forthwith to cover over all the smelling salts nearest hand to hold in 
cuppboard bare the bone for elbert Hubbard gone. Hark the light from yonder glaring 
glen forsook the frames the lenses now opaqued. Blind to world of beauty winter 
paints a white mistaken ache in me. Amid the bones of whited elephaunt skunks 
rome near me to harken when the crow calls daybeak come. Caw the raven quoth. 
God forbode a man, that an Englaisman should tell or act a lie, neithor the Son of 
GOD my Jesus, that He should feel repentance or compunction [for what his Father 
has promised].  Has He sayeth, and shall He not say on?  Or has He spoken and shall 
He not make it gooder. Oh LORDy. For the reasoneth He stays upon His bethroned 
placement is quite evident for iff GOD were to walk the Earth as a mere man in sight 
of all this assembled Heathorns even for just one day twold make us all so jealous of 
the miricles in the clay. For Jesus could open up his hand wiht a plott of dirty clay 
and make a violet blooming say. Oh Lordy. 

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                     Be the best you ,you can be...even if you have stereotypical strikes against you. Use the back door, dressed in khaki not Gucci, armed with knowledge and the courage to know that you be the best ,at whatever you do. And let it be proved, no one can perfect on being you. Make sure what ever you do ,you do so well that once you are gone. you'll still be remembered;   Remembered for the improvements,and not destruction. King wanted not to be martyred, as he wanted to prove:  As I have done you can also do:There's no difference between you and I; So do as I have done and even more he would say, prepare your self with education and the knowledge thereof.

. Stand on passion and be guided by LOVE. Passion and self determination is the lamp at our feet. Even if you cannot afford a college degree, Grab a book from the library and read, be you self taught or guided by ancestors voices. Its all in a book, the ancestors still care.  The way has been paved and the motivation is there. Some made it through on wisdom and prayer. He did not die for us to praise him, he wanted to be an example and his example was ample; To show that just an ordinary man...could leave a legacy and a dream. That all men are created equal ..SO do even more than I have done he would say Because he has already opened up doors and paved the way..  Let us not run backwards ,forward we tread. His dream is alive and his memory not dead. Stop looking for A leader and become one instead,by his courageous spirit, let us each be led...Billions are looking around for a King, put on your gloves and get in the ring.You are chosen by the mighty....Yes you are the one...each of you have a Job to do. Be the best you,you can be. And lets get this done.!                         YOU ARE THE ONE!

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myanmar poem, poetry, poet from myanmar

For many people outside the Myanmar poetry, it may come as a surprise that there is such a thing as language-oriented poetry contemporary poetry scene in Myanmar. The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry.
I feel like I have to say to me about how this had happened in Myanmar, the country was under military rule over the past 60 years their poetry broke away from the traditional style classic writing about the monarchy the old and the Burmese Old Burmese way of life before the annexation of British Burma in 1886. The hair experimental poetry movement 1 of the 20th century, was 2 in the movement of new writing, which led pilot Dag on (which is now in his 90s and blind), after the end of World War 2. Influenced by left-wing ideology known of the historical period popular poetry, realism and the Marxist-oriented, through the 40S late. There was at that time, an ideological struggle between the so-called "art for art's sake" The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry. Has described those who did not support writing the new "bourgeois" and blasted the "progressives." Although the new writing system that is based on experimental poetry rhyme 4.3.2 with some changes in the number of syllables in each line rhyme scheme, which makes it more flexible, and was aimed at, faith, and the content of a revolutionary. The art for the masses, and poetry is the weapon of the masses against the landowners and capitalists and national. It is unfortunate that the writing of new, while winning the hearts and minds of an entire generation of young poets, and in some cases made just propaganda, and the adage is that the hair must be less aesthetic and utilitarian more so that even the common person would low education "appreciate" poem with ease. UNSUPPORTED CODE myanmar poem UNSUPPORTED CODE 

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                     Perseverance: a poem

Long ago or should I say sometime in the past?

I had dreams and now at the age of 31 I have realized most of them.

It’s funny how good luck; joy, pain, rejection, effort and ‘Perseverance’ with a capitol ‘P’ have played a part in my life and sealed my Fate.

I now choose to think more positive thoughts even though this is still hard for me when I hear a negative voice in my head or when I hear people say negative things about me.

Those things hurt me and stay with me until I let it go.
I am self-motivated and I was a star pupil in my memories of my childhood.

My main goal is to be able to take care of myself, be responsible for myself and for the choices I make in life.

I am finishing school next January ’14 with my Bachelor’s degree and I want to find a good Internship.

Then after that I want to have a part-time job working 20 to 25 hours per week and continue doing volunteer work.

Oh and poems, I will keep writing my poems and reading other people’s poetry.  Right now I am reading LIT a memoir by Mary Karr. I also want to write children’s books.

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                          In my  life , i find pressure to be different and extra ordinary.
it is a struggle;
a battle;
a discomfort, 
and above all a 'challenge' on how to get to the top.
In a super and extra ordinary life , I see myself as a best friend to the Eagle because it settles for nothing less,
A cousin to the Elephant because its strength and courage are unbeatable,
Having a chance to be spoken to by a Beaver because its words are more less like its personality, i.e a hard worker.
Having a chance to hear and know how an ocean really is and what makes it outstanding despite having the same 'waters' as the lakes and rivers.
Being given a chance to run with TIME in the race called ''BIT IT and ATTAIN'' a reward called SUCCESS.
Indeed it is a quest within,
A quest for extra ordinary...

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Soltive pre ordained priest warlike additives initially a Jesus Freak becoming cold 
hearted in the winter. Bane has come with hatred of simple minded people. Sexual 
orientation is nill. Macabration indentation on the quilt. A welcome matt with a towel 
for spills. I have a small fortune tied. Up is not an option now. There is only snow up 
there eventually. The water line is nearer the river then the streaming stream of 
water near me on the highway catching all the melting riverlets as they run away 
from home in WinterBane. Some men still have strength but they abuse it think to 
break down boarded ruins tearing down old barns and cornors of old abandoned 
houses where homeless and poor people might find shelter from the rain. Where will 
they find to dwell. Because of wealth they have a large area to heat in WinterBane 
they have a larger of a structure the more expensive in the WinterBane with sleet 
coming down in Sheets of Ice looked like a solid wall of water hitting me Frost icing 
clothing no thing was DRY ice all over me a few moments after I stepped toe out of 
sheltor walking on the SIDE of the road cant walk on the roadway slipping on the ICE 
stepped offroad walking in the treelined. I found what looked like a Najavo Hogan 
brogaded outside there was clothes hannging on branches a Babylon Garden in the 
snow. While the whole city was whited out at degrees zero. The goose has a liver. 
Oh Pâté the liver rules the Goose is cooked with too many alcholic incumbents while 
the minutes of the meeting Read all old activity reported long ago nothing is new 
under the sun. Nothing there is nothing is there nothing in my past has preparred me 
for my future education has failed me for the alcholic eye was ruined for functioning 
in SOciety degenerate reborne. Nothing smelles worse to a man then sex mixed up 
with tobacco and alchohol how can anyone live as porn objects and still survive the 
toll booth smells like whiskey before three pee em it takes the heart to control it 
takes the lust to want. I feared to die for I was sinnor I feared one day to lay 
underneathe the snow ensheathed but then one day has come to eye EYE Fear No 
Snow EYE Fear No Snow I am a man. The snow no longer bothers me. I am beneath 
it all, My soul is not inside of me. It leaves me when I fall. As I lay here 
silently,wating for the trumpet, It will blow! 
I do not any longer fear the snow. 
Copyright © 2006 charles hice

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Sliced Her Like A Knife Slice

The Story: 

ragged faded 
lady hoarder, 
diva boarder, 
dancin' to the tune 
of her Dandelion Wine. 

milky-eyed maiden, 
peddles paper posies, 
masticating carnivore, 
toothless, useless whore. 
not on her best night! 
not anymore! 

acclimated alleyways, 
rodents without fear, 
muddle-minded Faustian , 
soul redeeming martyr - 
thirty-seventh year. 

The Memories: 

broken boned beauty 
forged in her mind, 
conscientious duty 
lost to time. 

could have been 
a skater, 
rockefeller rink, 
sooner came later, 
locked and loaded link. 

pride of Arizona, 
class of sixty-one, 
a devotee of luna, 
loves her remy rum. 

many bitter winters, 
bitter winter winds, 
sliced her like a knife slice, 
bled her bone thin. 

The Story: 

gave away her gravity, 
east L.A. 
weighted down reality 
roles she plays. 

saddle-strapped sad hag 
gone insane, 
never gonna' lose 
'cause she's never in the game. 

always aware where the 
light lays low to the ground 
livin' in a clap-trap 
jingle-jangle town. 
runs for the shade 
when the sun goes down; 
safety in crazy, 
crazy shades and shadow 
hides her braided hair 
and her Royal golden crown. 

salts of lithium 
took away her name; 
doesn't even know 
who the hell to blame. 

wants to be codified, 
once and for all, 
as prophets once prophesied - 
another Jackie O. 
with her hag-bag shop rags 
ready to go. 

time is always lazy for a lady goin' crazy!! 
midnight, brain-drain, middle of the boulevard, 
ragged lady bag-hag screamin' out her rage. 

The Lady Speaks: 

up there with your pixilated palindromes, 
sippin' fresh-dipped sewer juice 
and french champagne - you blue-blooded, high-borns, 
listen to the tale that I wail at you. 

i'm a sack-cloth, busted, shackled crusted scab, 
gonococcal wet-brain - slippin' on the ledge 
of pain on pain, while livin' on the edge 
in the whorin' pourin' rain. God died, I cried, 
now i'm lookin' for some gain. 

leave your flush plush penthouse high-flying life; 
see your bleeding sister, see your bleeding wife. 
that's right, once a wife, mother to your kids. 
your kids are gettin' shifty, siftin' on the street; 
private school, brittle-veined, maggot-tagged gods, 
waitin' for the reaper with the universal odds. 

i'm brain-drained, insane, dissipated plain, 
a bucket full of truth even Jesus wouldn't claim! 
so crucify your comfort, your gentrified name, 
then bring it to the street, bitch, let me see your shame. 

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 (Dedicated to Dana Rugina)

On that very cool and refulgent evening
Flying from Europe to Africa
Luck placed me beside you
How beautiful it was to look at your pretty face
How wonderful to know you are from Romania
How pleasant it was to have a seat beside you
How glad I was to know you are a mathematician
Though accented, paid kin attention to listen to me
I had a smooth and sweet flight
Not because it was an Egypt Airline nor that I sat in business class
But because you keep my company
“Is your final destination Egypt?” ignited our conversation
“A man that keeps quite will die” will I always remember
Because they are words of wisdom
I believe I’ll see you again
Friend on the flight
Where and when, that I cannot say. 

(c) 2011

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MAS come on down front you have been chosen by the frozen tender tundra to eat the 
apple i can give her. Staccatto beating in the background leaning to the south moving in the 
night polish wont make green apple to shine. The love GOD has for all of us in is SON Jesus is 
also inside us in our Souls inside our Spirit. He did this even though none of us are worth this 
a freely given gift. Something that opens up inside us each and every day. Better then the 
food we eat the apple red and green. Better then what people give on Christmas Day the 
packages wrapped and placed underneathe the tree dont open that dont shake it up dont let 
Johnny see. Perhaps its all the things that boy has stored up all year long some new toy he 
saw on television laying on the lawn. He never picks it up now or plays for very long. This 
Christmas please think of how the Son Of God must feel when we ignore his gift to us. I feel 
so guilty of his love inside this green forgotten apple in the bucket in the snow. Sorrow not 
the answer the apple catches worms so the food stored in the bucket doesnt turn to molded 
into love when I get hungry having none I go to cuppoard never barren there. I cannot eat 
much fruit anymore but mix the trail will fill me up when there is none to find in town. For 
CHristmas is two missing weeks after Thanksgiving missing one. SUnday on the November 
twenty nine untill Friday December Eightteenth then back for three more days then Monday 
the eleventh of January I solidify for more solid days activities perhaps the apple won. Bright 
red and polished up for teachor loves. Look for me with love. 

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Education is Power

Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.

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MTV's 16 and Pregnant

There's always an issue with teen pregnancy. And when watching "16 & Pregnant" on MTV,
still on the air, this "wanting-to-be-a-parent-at-an-early-age" thing has gone way too
far. This show's about teen girls, who got pregnant at the ages of 14,15,16,and/or 17.
They had their hopes and dreams in tact, but all of them have been put on hold. One of
those dreams included being a lawyer, doctor, or whatever. MTV's "16 & Pregnant" means the end of
one's so-called "social life." It means no more going to the movies, no more going to the
mall, no more going to exclusive parties, nothing. There was no way that these teen girls
were to be mothers at an early age. They needed to concentrate on getting their high
school diplomas and their college degrees, and then have kids. There was no way that these
teen boys were to be fathers at an early age, either. They needed to focus on their
futures, like going to college. Those teen couples, they should've used condoms. Now I
know why I never became a father at an early age, let alone 13 or 17. Some teen couples
should've waited until both teen parents had finished their education and they were
married. But despite all of the drama and the stress, I still think that all teen moms are
doing a good job, raising their children. And if "16 & Pregnant" were to stay on the MTV
network for at least two (2) more seasons, that would be great, but teen pregnancy has got
to stop. No children until after marriage.

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Leader among leaders
Beaten, never die
Stressed, not strained a bit
Pulled apart, never deformed
But better than former
Been through fire,
never burned
Walked through storms,
last man standing
Super eagle among the eagles
Catering for the falcons
Having a heart of unconditional love
King of one queen
Great example to his offspring
True friend to his friends
Man of his words
Always walk the talk
A true ambassador in a foreign land
True champion of our time

(c) 2011

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Plaids.docx Plaids Satan and Daniel one last word “Checked or checkered worsted or suited to be nude under your clothing is transparent apparently non existent to my naked eye think this will be easily my last try Daniel answer me what is the last word” ? “Remember it means your soul against your long and sinful life”. Daniel shuffled his feet there was only a long silent night. “Away over there in the manger”, the Devil began to sing. “Stop that” was from Daniel, “How do you expect me now to think” ? “eye need a drink a stiff one or both, ? eye need to THINK!!! The merciless Devil began to sing louder “Baby Jesus in the Carriage rhymes with perfect Marriage” yes you never married Daniel Webster but you played the bombast lots of times. Tell me now this one last test of time repeat after me “the last word is now just fill in the blank for your life ; at this the Devil Satan rocked back and forth in a Mimicry of him and then HE smiled. You always defeat me so quickly so smug in your Lawyers britches. While Christians die naked and stoned in the bull rushes of “GOD”. Daniel was smiling now. The Devil slapped his hand up over his mouth TOO LATE he realized just what he had done. Daniel seized the day. “GOD” is the last word howsoever you say it Jesus or Our Father the last word is “GOD”. Then the Devil rode a giant lightening rod back up to the Heavens and Daniel did his little Webster definition of a dance shuffle full of saving Grace. He shot his cuff out and buffed his sleeve and looked down at his Plaids.

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CADD part two2

"Vision Zero" -- no more deaths from highway accidents. The idea was born in Sweden, where it's had spectacular success in reducing traffic fatalities. Now zeroing out all traffic fatalities must become an explicit U.S. and worldwide goal. Otherwise we have no prospect of taming the appalling roadway death toll -- 42,000 lives lost yearly in the United States, close to 1.2 million worldwide. THE LAW IS STATED FOR EACH AND EVERY DIFFERENT STATE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
 › Alabama DUI Law
 › Alaska DWI Law
 › Arizona DUI Law
 › Arkansas DWI Law

 › California DUI Law
 › Colorado DUI Law
 › Connecticut DUI Law
 › Delaware DUI Law

 › Florida DUI Law
 › Georgia DUI Law
 › Hawaii DUI Law
 › Idaho DUI Law

 › Illinois DUI Law
 › Indiana OWI Law
 › Iowa OWI Law
 › Kansas DUI Law

 › Kentucky DUI Law
 › Louisiana DWI Law
 › Maine OUI Law
 › Maryland DUI Law

 › Massachusetts OUI / DUI Law
 › Michigan DUI Law
 › Minnesota DWI Law
 › Mississippi DUI Law

 › Missouri DWI Law
 › Montana DUI Law
 › Nebraska DWI Law
 › Nevada DUI Law

 › New Hampshire DUI Law
 › New Jersey DWI Law 
 › New Mexico DUI Law
 › New York DWI Law

 › North Carolina DWI Law
 › North Dakota DUI Law
 › Ohio DUI Law
 › Oklahoma DUI Law

 › Oregon DUII Law
 › Pennsylvania DUI / DAI Law
 › Rhode Island OUI Law
 › South Carolina DUI Law

 › South Dakota DUI Law
 › Tennessee DUI Law
 › Texas DWI Law
 › Utah DUI Law

 › Vermont DUI Law
 › Virginia DUI Law
 › Washington DUI Law
 › District of Columbia DWI Law

 › West Virginia DUI Law
 › Wisconsin OWI Law
 › Wyoming DUI Law

It is hard to do the will of GOD and judge not a brother for what he eats or drinks but they THE LAW aer seeming smarter for they judge no content but amounts thereof. This is number twenty in my CharlaXTitles Cadd. 

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they are born
in a world thats torn
its not mabe
these are babies
has a cry sound
tell you too

Details | Prose Poetry | |


“Preacheth” Simpler version is better. As in the poem so is the days of our lives. The Congregation wants the King James Version. The Preacher wants the NIV New International Version. The Hobo comes in the Church in the middle of this Sunday Confrontation. Eye have the Gideon Bible eye took it from the Motel at the edge of town they had a disclaimer on the page said for me do not remove this Bible from the room. The Church is quiet now not a sound not a mouse moves in the house. “Why did you take the Gideon Bible”? said the Preacher. “SAYETH why” said the congregate. Eye like to have a Bible in my hobo bag so when someone steals it they can find the Bible in the bag and it keeps them mad. But eye promise you one thing preacher when eye meet this Gideon fellow eye will give it back. The preacher says, “eye will Preach.” The congregate says “no you will Preacheth.” The hobo says “read it from the Gideon.” Deuteronomy 5:19 (New International Version) 19 "You shall not steal. Deuteronomy 5:19 (King James Version) 19Neither shalt thou steal. Deuteronomy 5:19 (The Message) 19 No stealing. Open the night stand drawer in almost any motel room in the world and you will find a Bible placed there by the Gideon’s International. The oldest Christian business and professional men’s association in the United States, the Gideons have been around for more than 100 years, and have been placing Bibles in hotel rooms for almost that long. They also give the small New Testaments to people at schools eye havd had many of them and yes eye am the hobo that steals bibles from motel rooms.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

a proem to a poem

Poems, are works of poet.
Cos all poet,
are led by thought.
And poems are to loose a knot.
A poem makes thing so clear,
Even if, its subject is never near.
For all poem
Has it own proem.
A poem speaks,
Not as the green thinks.
For a judge in court,
Has once slept, in cot.
Poems are deep thoughts,
Even if, they might be so short.
For fourteen line poems are
And ballads are works of poet.
Poems are not forgotten,
Cos they are not for nothing,
But to treat a topic,
As a story could be in epic.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mum's Hero

Mum, you bought me shoes, socks and a football kit,

'You were willing me to see me as your ‘hero’.

Fifteen years have passed away,

I still have your gift that you bought for me on Christmas. 


Your son is a really hero, have you seen me,

I am top scorer as you can read in the local newspaper,

When I kissed my first trophy, my tears poured out, 

My friends thought that I am crying in happiness.


Mum, have you remembered me? 

As I know, I always missed your shadow,

I go to the pond every week, 

Where you fed the birds and spent hours with them. 


You never come to learn, 

How your son spent days, weeks and years.

Perhaps you don’t know, dad also left me, 

When you went out, he ran after you. 


I saw his picture in a newspaper,

When I grew up a little, I heard from my carer,

Your dad died in an accident,

Have you come to attend his funeral? 


I learnt when he left church nobody was behind him,

Only service that he received has been delivered,

I went often to kiss his stone, as I found him,

Few days ago it was a fathers day. 


When I join my mate’s birthdays, 

I saw their parents curdling them with gifts.

They dance and laugh, enjoy food and drink,

I feel loneliness and lost myself in puffs of smoke. 


Always I got drunk but never forgot that incident,

When you tried to stop dad, not to drink more,

He pushed and slapped you strongly,

I saw blood touching your feet. 


You don’t know, I also ran after you,

Door slammed shut, road was icy and frozen,

I hit a stone and fell conscious on the street,

When I found myself, I was in a hospital bed.


Mum, is your face looking the same as before?

How will I recognise you if I met you suddenly?

I am sure mum. You will recognise me,

At last I am your son as same as I am Dad’s. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |



The mental quality of spirits is unveiled.
Anne saw them in imagery.
They were in small shapes as a displayed mural.
A bust of lives demised with estate being conveyed as an inhabitant or the occupier.
Their capacity was that of full animation and stream.
Anne watched the mystical images that were once all men.
Their colors came as black, white, and olive.

Attuned to their surroundings, they did not alter their position on the wall.
They desire was to rectify a wrong.
Calibers are competent to their form in which Anne was not afraid of being forewarned.

Anne began to name them the ones that she saw.
The black one was called Magic because he was the leader of them all.
There were two level of white men seated by rows.
Anne named them Parchment because of their lab coats.
The olive one was called Mixed-Blood.

Stature they formed with ability to construct.
The degree of their mental capacity paraded the capability of the physical you being possessed.
Might they enter via an oval of the body?
They haunted this house to influence cognizance.
Anne’s knowledge is such that she may not be aware of their existence from where they exist.
Ignorance is the perception Anne lived in.

Anne and her family moved from this house in her seventh year.
She saw their presence first when she was four.
Once Anne and her family left, she did not see them anymore.

Anne moved on Briesch when she was an infant.
She never spoke of what she saw until she relocated.
Anne’s mother stated that a veil was over her eyes, a pall of despair trying to develop premonition.

Caliber is a degree of mental capacity or moral quality.
Anne cultivated this identity.
Penned February 17, 2014!
For Anne Currin Contest Any Poem/Any Subject! 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Puke all over the seat and get some on your dogs head 
and a little on the wife’s  purse get her good 
and Madd at yew so she will take the car keys 
and drop them in the piranha pool to keep 
the control of the car away from yew. 
DO not ever try to drive the car like that again. 
Be my friend let the motor idle when the belly 
has an idol in the center of your disgusting 
fatness leave the driving to the women 
or call the rental. Drinking is a disease 
of the mind heart liver central being alcoholic yew. 
It is now not only whiskey but people drugging 
swagging smoking of the left handed Turkish variety 
just puffing passing smoking inhaling 
like a Clinton Will. Stronger measures now aer 
needed to stop the added danger of a high 
mucky muck brown frame toker from totaling 
the soccer van of Mother. There is station wagons 
on the road this mourning with whiskey bumps 
all over them the women drivers not exempt 
from hitting poles and other cars 
and then my friend there is the LAW of Johnny 
combined to probable cause. When the police man shines 
his light inside the car and sees at least thirteen 
empty beer bottles laying in the back seat empty 
he has a right to ask ewe iff ewe aer recycling them 
or drinking. A road test complete with breathalyzer 
please make them touch the nose 
never mind the sneezes please.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Deceit of Child

 Yes, adoption to most adoptees, “always” the sunrise to a brand new sunset. Yet, if not given in to each, is full entail…

       “Ablaze are our thoughts from far, far reaches, as if the reddish licked flames from long lost fires… Fires of which, brushed, had every shade of burnt orange that still hues of its past sunset. Your sunset, our own living sunset, a sunset awash in its own past beauty or life’s chaos -; now viewed by all as hope never surrendered. As if an artist’s hand-hurled, color-of-the-sun fireball had just splashed broadside - our own clouded gun metal gray horizon.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Smell the Coffee

As for a concise short history and probable sure continuance of mankind's covertly planned taking of innocent life goes, it would be the right frame of mind to think that most of these deaths having occurred, were a peoples' righteous morning's bring of their country's political stealth, having struck during the night while under a forgiving light of our moon's hire...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Summon the strength 
to confront pain, grief;
to endure danger 
or the threat thereof. 
Campaign with determination 
to face a valiant struggle. 
Boldly challenge the fear within 
to prepare for resistance 
with instinctive 
physiological response.
Compel a coercive compulsion 
to become valid.
Assume risk when others retreat.
Stand for righteousness
in the face of adversity.
This is the nature of courage.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

How to Order a Pizza In Dutchess County

First, be aware, all close by 6pm.
NYC, this aint.....
Second, call up.....
Specify delivery.....
Detail requests....
"How much are beers?
"$2.50 each..."
"Okay- I'll take 4 beers and a slice.
What's that come to?"

"Hold on, 4 beers, each $2.50,
that's $10., right?"
A slice is $16.50?"
"No, you have to add sales tax,
Oil surcharge, delivery fee, employee
dependent's education fund,
wear and tear on the tires,
and telephone imformation fee."
"sorry, you're right, that should be $29.50."
"Additional questions are $2.50 each...."

"Nevermind." click.

"Hello, Chinese Jade Restaurant..."
"Hi, any MSG?"
"No, we don't go to Madison Square Gardens"

From now on, english muffins and liverwurst!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


It only takes a moment
One second of your time
To make a change
The invisible children are starting to be heard
With your help they can be saved
Just take a moment to listen
Joseph Kony is a villain 
A terrible, terrible man
Take a second to find out why
He kidnaps children
Right from their homes
Puts them into his armies
But thats not all
He forces them to kill
Sometimes forces them to kill
Their own parents
He has no cause, no worldly plan
Just wants to grow his power
And he MUST be stopped!
If enough citizen support is gathered
We can make a difference
We can assist in his arrest
All it takes is a second
Look up the Invisible Children Inc.
Look up Joseph Kony
Look up information and join us
As we fight for these children
Who alone may not be heard
And as we fight for the capture and arrest
Of Joseph Kony
....................................................Joseph Kony 2012   We WILL make a difference!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


the more you know
makes it hard to do
some won't you dumd
those mean sungun
won't you on the run
don't like a smart mind
like to kept you blind

Details | Prose Poetry | |


They took a cart with four wheels scootered by me just to almost hit my foot they 
tried to run between the bus stop and the bench where eye was standing waiting 
for the bus just missing one that left me almost got the dust she flipped at me 
with her middle finger she had to knoe that eye was there she meant to make me 
feel bad so what she said he was not there at the stop yet  this old man found 
and scrounge is better than a gang and take this poem is for FOUND things 
sarcasm is lost inside a deep dark hole I don’t want to take it with me overheard 
and listened to the conversation all anew again in my imprinted memory as I 
pen,  this; ODE to rudeness,  eye have been told there is NO LAW against cell 
phones or decent public conversations Its hard to see he is my poor brother eye 
keep my own needs simple and eye travel light, 
And keep all of Egypt on my back, but some people need the even more security 
a four wheeled   
Shopping –cart can afford them the demonic teachings of the classroom just 
made me realize that eye would leave my education in the great wastebasket of 
the sky eye would learn some other thing eye would leave the classroom without 
thinking never embracing death and the mark of the rejection of the lord the 
millennium mark the 666 mark of the beast called SATAN.
Rood        rud - Show Spelled Pronunciation [rood] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA 
1.	a crucifix, esp. a large one at the entrance to the choir or chancel of a 
medieval church, often supported on a rood beam or rood screen. 
2.	a cross as used in crucifixion. 
3.	a unit of length varying locally from 51/2 to 8 yards (5 to 7 m). 
4.	a unit of land measure equal to 40 square rods or 1/4 acre (0.10117 
5.	a unit of 1 square rod (25.29 sq. m). 
6.	Archaic. the cross on which Christ died. 
[Origin: bef. 900; ME; OE rōd pole, crucifix; c. G Rute rod, twig ] Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cottons Southern Man

More than a man, the south made.
Black and white, south one started, 
great oaks refused no man a child
to hang about it, call dark christmas.
Hallow was a name, old now hollow.
Stigma inside wears grey cotton
memories, alive die uncompensated.
Here, electricity has that sick sweet  
smell about it, as if it were once alive.
While morality, debates in pockets 
of isolated votes packed together.

Is It Poetry

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A reference for every thought

A reference for every thought

Deconstruct all you think and find the link
To the last time you felt that way
Heard the words
Learned that fact
Disassemble the pieces of the things and 
Actions you hold to be true
Find the place in the litany of your life
And note down the author, the theorist
The lover and map the route to the
Conurbation of storehouses and pyramids
Of belief and time
Track each thought, each breath, each moment 
That constructed these towns of ideas
And live the informed like evaluating each
Fortify only the foundations of these that
Hold under such intense surveillance

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you can tell
if theyer not well
they cry like hell
but some have drops
they will not stop
it appear 
they are

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tasty Funs

only a direction,
learnt, everywhere,
from different ones.

full education and training,
a bundle of references,
for tasty funs.

but lost a way,
where progress competes,
a successive runs.

arguments, a burning matter,
sharing or non sharing material,
Trust or dis-trust guns.

for settlements,
prosperity and peace,
Otherwise life exists for nones.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


They were hippies 
and societal dropouts.
Scholars, poets and 
pot smoking draft dodgers.
Civil right activists,
and anti-war protesters.
Patriots and soldiers
fighting an unpopular war.

Relationships were confused
and marriage became open.
Morality lost meaning and
God  was largely forgotten
except to grape Kool-Aid drinkers.
They liked to “groove”
on a Sunday afternoon
and kids hid under desks
for H-bomb drills.

They were good and bad
and pretty and ugly.
They were raised on Dillon, 
Joplin, Hendrix  and Doors.
Motown was happening 
with The Beach Boys,  Zeplin,
and the Rollin Stones.
Paul Revere had his Raiders,
Love was a Spoonful and
Three Dog was the Night.
The Beatles reigned supreme.
Sullivan was a king maker,
Elvis was a soldier,
and Archie and Meathead
were "All in the Family."

They welcomed the British invasion
and hung out at Woodstock -
sometimes in the nude.
Many were students 
who got high and
routinely cut class.
Most of them were psyche majors
trying to “find themselves?”
LSD was a bad trip 
that many took.
Sex was free 
and there was a lot of it.

They were spoiled, selfish,
lazy and genius.
They grew up late, 
but at least grew up.
They hid their past
and regretted much of it.
They were artistic,clever 
and very  inventive.
They are also to blame for 
much that is wrong.
Many are in denial
and most have regrets.
They were the boomers
of the baby boom generation.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Job Well Done

Job Well Done
June 27, 2011

Got my job done
Now sitting in the sun
Tried a computer to pawn
Treated me as the devil’s spawn
Met a man
It was so grand
I looked and I spied
Ronnie gave me a ride

Details | Prose Poetry | |

here comes 'your' lover he's 'gay'

  is it fun and games, 
or is it insane.
just to keep milking him. 
the way, 
you all do it now.
look at your hands.
warm and slippery.
yellow and dripping 
with sweat.
and ever growing.
you're fevered and glowing. 
all of your faces are red.
rejected by him at the prom.
and him by all of you.
ruffies you put in his milk.
He does not drink, 
what you think 
he should drink 
he is good.
and loved by all. 
by you and by most 
as he should.
and look at him now.
passed out hot icy cold. 
but how can you now.
how can you, 
and your friends.
as one squeezes, 
the brown paper bag.
and when one's coming up
each flight of stairs 
another seems to aways 
come down.
and all of you giggle and *sigh.*
and all of that spilled milk.
milk all that white milk.
looking around it is every where.
it's on your faces, 
and on your hands.
those blouses 
you change and your skirts.
are soaked as well.
deep asleep, like a babe.
and yes you were knowing, 
now as he...comes again.
and you know by now, 
he's in very much pain.
and none of you seem to care.
here comes that lover, 
that none of you knew.
that a hunk like him could be 'gay'.
and you didn't know, that
all the ones that you want
like he....are always gay.
feeding him all of those ruffies, 
like the three of you, 
have done in the past.
like the ones who, 
come to school the next day, 
with out any memory 
of those nights of the past.
While you keep
all of those pictures as proof 
of your kills.
what do all you think of
your hot selves now. 
and even more so vainly now. 
as he lays on your couch, 
held fast in ruffies deep sleep. 
alive in your hands moving now. 

Is It Poetry 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Slipper

In the black and white days of the 1950’s schools made youngsters learn and learn well or else,
Uniforms were as important with short trousers and knee length grey socks with elastic garters,
Garters would get so tight they left impressions on legs that took ages to stop legs itching,
We sat on wooden desks with ink wells in the corner, wooden pens with removable inky wet nibs.

Every single day my hands would be covered in ink no matter how hard you scrubbed it stayed,
We began our ten year education reading Janet and John books, and others not allowed today,
Girls wore grey pinafore dresses and blue knickers, we knew as they always played hand stand,
Playgrounds, black tar with chalked hopscotch grids and in the grass puttyholes for marbles.

In the London schools there was sometimes thick smog a thick fog mixed with smelly pollution,
Each morning before we left to go to school we were given a huge spoonful of malt with cod oil,
Disgusting, a big spoon shoved in my mouth, gagging as it was wiggled about bashing my teeth,
Discipline was tight the cane was used often, lesser offences a beating from the big slipper.

Never knew why it was called the slipper because it wasn’t a slipper it was a shoe and it hurt,
In class and I was fiddling with something and not paying attention I got a rap on my knuckles,
When not expecting it, out of the blue a whack was a painful experience and the class giggled,
The edge of a wooden ruler covered in ink made the back of your hand go red with a white line.

Then it was the dreaded times tables a teacher would randomly spit out a question and stare,
What’s 7 x 9 boy? The pressure of the stare and the stick patting his palm made me forget,
Stand in the corner boy, I will deal with you later, so for the rest of the lesson I worried,
Hands up on my head, my arms heavy aching, waiting for a portion of punishment what would it be.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over

When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over

Its doesn't matter which side your on
Whether your a viva viva palestina
Or an am yisrael chai
You know which side is evil, committed all
Wrongs, sometimes you meet people who 
Extol the virtues of this treacherous, 
Terrible oppressor /terrorist
With their shock and awe tactics and 
Disregard for freedom or the right to life And the pursuit of happiness
And sometimes for a minute, particularly 
When you talk to someone you think is 
Intelligent it becomes harder to maintain the 
View on this malignant party you tried hard 
To campaign for and against and although 
Peace (of mind) is all you want
All you could dream of
With this entity at the negotiating table 
Independence is swapped for catastrophe And war
If you give them what they want you will
Have nothing except the need to a right of 
Return to a better time

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Isn’t it exciting?
How this event
Can make you feel
You know it’s heaven sent

Graduating from Middle School
Is the beginning of your life 
You know to keep your cool
And must forever strife

For going on to High School
Is a wish we parents have
So you can get the knowledge
We as parents wish we had

To succeed with a good foundation
Is what it’s all about 
Because an education 
Is something you can’t do without

That knowledge that you’ll get
Will forever replace
The inexperience and seclusion
And make you someone in this place

Remember, for you to see the world
Education is your ticket
Because with education 
You will have a wealth of knowledge, mind, and sound

And know 
That with education 
You are honor bound

					Love: Mrs. Enriquez
                 				RHMS Teacher

Details | Prose Poetry | |


i must say
i came a long way
i can help other today
is well understood
am a

Details | Prose Poetry | |


OK  Let’s get started, huh?
Well, ladies and gentlemen, on this sad occasion, it is my painful duty to welcome 
You all to the farewell meeting convened in honour of our beloved Uncle Hector. 
We gather together on this heap of cat-crap behind the restaurant for two reasons.  
First,  it is  a familiar place full of pleasant memories for all of us, but second, 
And more important, it is Uncle Hector’s own favourite place for passing away 
A pleasant hour two, buzzing excitedly on a hot summer’s afternoon.
You all know, I think, that Hector was born into  a family of 115 flies 
From  his mother’s bluebottle fecundity. Raised in poverty, no education to speak of, 
The young Hector managed to learn the lessons of life the hard way, 
Narrowly missing fly-swatters in kitchens, sprays in toilets,  sticky-paper in bedrooms, 
And many other potentially fatal ends. When he was seven months old, he married  
The beautiful   Mary-Belle,  and they had  a lovely family of 8,236  children, 
Many of whom are the spitting image of Hector himself.  Uncle Hector is survived 
By Mary-Belle and   5,019 of their children. We are all heartbroken as we realize 
That the poor kids are still asking their mum, 
“Why is daddy so late coming home?  When will he be back?”
You don’t need me to remind you of the sudden and untimely end of this fine fly,  
And yet there are youngsters among us today who would do well to be reminded 
Of the pitfalls awaiting the careless adolescent fly.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen,  
Uncle Hector, despite months of expert practice at avoidance techniques,  
Allowed his attention to wander too casually and he accidentally stepped onto flypaper.
What a demeaning end for a leader of such stature.  
Hector blazed a trail  a mile wide 
Through the old-fashioned traditions of bluebottles. 
No mere dog-crap afternoons for him….no ! 
Hector didn’t hesitate to go for the unusual.  The half-rotten  kiwi  fruit. 
The over-cooked  -  nay, burnt  -  shashlik  at the beach or barbecue site.  
His favourites were the day-old vomit from  dogs with food-poisoning,  
And the two-week-old decayed carcass of a mouse or rabbit. 
Youngsters listening to me now would do well to attempt    even half of the stuff 
Practised by our beloved uncle. Indeed we would all do well to try 
And emulate the deeds of such a fly – a shining example to us all.

(continued in  PART   TWO )

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stupid Question

Blog?  Is that when your sink is clogged with blood?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Apart From Me

Somber silly little Setter, English; painting trapped himself in the side yard whimpering, howling away wildly. 

Sunscreen-on, moseying on over, in His tenderness He offers a helping hand. Hot Summers cool vapors the blessings found  here, there to and fro leaning midst the still lulling; gentle calling of the Rains. 

Yes the Grace of God, in His joy humming, arriving just in time, and so is Patience the greater venture I suppose the eminent virtue. 

His Love always; Honest, Open... Willing already beholden... . Far beyond the wreck I make for myself and others... chains stretched bounded securing me yes, my freedom in kind stripped away from me given in the effort this provisional very prominence preceding me when in denial of these facts.     

Details | Prose Poetry | |


July 31, 2011

Been caught in a scam
Should I have just ran
Try to be good
For God as we should
Always to get bit
Just take another hit
Never knowing why
But continue to try
To live with the strife
Just wanted a wife
Will we ever just fit in the groove
Or should we just move
On the Golden list
I do not jist
Or just change my name
To fit and stay in the game
Never, never win
So I will just give in

Details | Prose Poetry | |



I took the money and kept it to support my own family for a year
Then asked  their permission to leave for a year and work in Africa
I went to  Kenya, to  a poor  family and their poor school there, which I had read about
Teaching is my trade so I taught them everything I knew
About English, math, wood construction, health, business
And many other things.   I showed them how much the rich
Westerners care for them by being with them and sharing their burden
The end of the year came  and I went home to my family
Glad to be back, but also glad to have worked  in Africa
Years later some children had pursued their education with their  better English
Had become doctors and teachers and builders and  businessmen
They made efforts to change their country and make it a better place for all Kenyans
All the sick people, the uneducated, the homeless, the jobless
Who previously had little chance of  improvement  now had a better start
I felt that the benefit of education would ripple down from generation t o generation
I guess time will tell if I was right to take the money for my own family.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Blue chips stared - boring
Appraising. 'Do you have anything 
to say?'
I stare back. Bristling. 
Eyes streaming.Of course I had opinions to 
offer -
I look around: solemn masks tinged with 
dissidence. My 
comrades - are we faulted?
I am the Head; I must speak.
Deep breaths. I conjure my favourite fantasy
'We offer our apology - and hope 
we are still in your good books -'
Pontificates. Obnoxious man; I chew my lips
'Oh, if you were out of my good 
books we wouldn't be having this 
I stare at the faces flanking him. 
Baboons before their master. 
Nose spasms; eyes twitching:
I get the message but ignore.
Deafening silence stretches 
into impudence.
Sweet relish at his petulance.
You know not what you are 
dealing with -
Haven't you heard of the notorious village 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Finding My Pure Heart

All the violence on TV was probably not good for me
All the decapitated corpses on video games not the brightest idea for me
Life’s real dramas just frustrate me
All the fabricated television dramas annoy me
We all love a happy ending yet we consume the misery and pain of others
Haunted by life changing events
At times I just simply need to vent
Why be educated and humble when being ignorant and shallow brings you fame
Why save your virginity for marriage, when society’s sluts take all the good guys that a girl covets
Why be a nice guy, when all the respectable women settle for assholes yet are surprised when they are mistreated and cheated on
Why live a life down the correct path, when the wrong path is glorified and admired by society
Beneath the darkness and rubble of life exist the flickering white light of my once pure heart

Find more of my writings and poems at

Details | Prose Poetry | |


its  the deal
the trade meal
can be
you see
a part so make start
and sell you might do well
earn more and more 
at the

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Pa

Had a dream about my Pa tonight, We all went out with them to Lake Loral Nancy His wife cooking up a good ol' Chicken Pot Stew slow-cooked set way up high atop the hickory us loading up the Bayliner for our afternoon fishing trip. We reminisced, Canoe in toe as we used to do just in case, yes just as we did back then; you-know if either would wished to float to one or more sides with the Canoe tied to the railings of the boat, or more or less to widen the chance at a greater spot to cast a gander upon our luck... . My Father by adoption; having-stated many times early on in-all of our teenier all together, God being-in-charge of all good-Blessings and if-you will--luck... we'll always catch some albeit one Yes I began to see through this statement he mentioned often God is always presenting always providing this-His Honest Hope, for us both--as I believe like my Pa, for any one yes everyone who is patient remains-open... ! Our woes, and Peace abiding... uncertainty grievances questions yes laughter were our main recollections as we dropped our first lines as we cast them... . I tell you I truly did love Him, still love Him, will always I figure... yes I know Some folk are so defined never wish to grow any further their Character divorced by Cancer, Nary did my Father allow it. On the day he passed He told Nancy, "I love my life. My Family Children. Love all those close to me.... but I'm tiered just plain wore out." the Lord took Him that night, the next day forthcoming I was told and O how I cried — But then realized as I saw he lived the greater life - He worked on this purpose until the day he died, and so for all he work for this final reprieve — it was for all of the ones he loved, because I feel for all whom he loved, he'd prayed for all to do the same... Yes a suffering in kind the same I'm seeing now - All-of-it I'm-finding; because he taught me the greater of his Faith nary a day apart from Him, and me... his youngest Son two Others older Sons if you will, yes I feel his family and friends still have this eminent belief to boast; Yes, in-the Company--Comfort... of Jesus' Peace... !

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Will you be ready?

When theres a knock on the door
will you be ready?
For all the things 
That's outside the
world you live in?

When the telephone rings
will you be ready?
For everything which is being told
At the end of the line?

When they wake you up
will you be ready?
For the stuff tat happens in reality
And not the for the dreams you hope for?

When they open your eyes
will you be ready?
To see things as they are truly are,
Rather than what you've heard?

When you enter the dark tunnel
will you be ready?
To find light at the end of the tunnel?

Be ready...

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you  this and that
you sill running like a rat
be smart like a cat
so much you can do
you are one the choose few

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A guy with a busy-life like me has everything he could want, right at fingertips:
I can “stop snoring with a dentist-designed mouthpiece”
And can pay for it, after I “check  my credit rating on line”.
Everyone I know should offer me “Congratulations” [ because  I ]
“have been chosen to join the National Association of Professional Wrestlers”.
On the other hand my interests may lean towards the aesthetic:
And I could “learn at the University of Phoenix” until they award me 
“the Degree on-line of beautician and cosmetologist”.
As consolation, I "can also obtain 70% off all  [my]  Viagra needs”   - 
Never knew, but older guys tell me it’s a drug to help  ‘their health’.
Finally if the drugs and education can’t help, I can pursue
“Lawsuits for serious injury and compo” with those well-known
Ambulance chasers,  Messrs.  Ripoff,  Fleecem  &  Grabbit.

Maybe writing a poem about reading spam is itself a symptom
Of my empty life. . . . . . . . . I  really gotta get out more.

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Greater 'Minds' Than Mine

  Greater 'Minds' Than Mine; 
Have left the 'Earth' and walked away.
Einstein as a troubled child, 
mixed socks and locked away.
Hubble and his visions eye'd, 
are seen across the sky.
D.N.A...must free more how...
When freedom lies barred now.
Worlds within a world within a world, 
his world one waits.
Within our dreams.
We do not wast our time on germs, 
untill they show us how. 

Is It Poetry 

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Broken Man

I got lost somewhere between hope and reality. I tired with all my might but things never seemed to go right. I had all my dreams ready but they never came true. I planned to achieve numerous goals but I never could. I had the perfect life planned out in my mind but now I feel as if I just wasted my time.  My best efforts never produced any success. Have I been walking through life wasting all of my breaths? Quitting and surrendering is the obvious choice for me now. Do I continue to fight until I have nothing left? Should I just hold my breath and patiently wait for death? Too broken to die and barely alive to continue. I just wish I had a clue to figure out this mystery called life.

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Modern Florida's 'Chain' Of D.N.A.

It's been so long since i have seen her smile.
Thirty five years give a month or two.
Boy you best get back in that line, 
your dressed in blue to her you all look the same.
Boss she covers me, with all her dreams.
Reckless eye balling boy, no supper tonight for you.
I'm only asking why, 'Boss' man.
Boy your dressed in blue, your blue from head to toe.
Each day my wife, she comes and brings my lunch
besides that cup of fruit is not for fools.
Boy now what! 
And then get back to work and just shut up.
Boss your eyes are blue and she is white like you.
Boy and whats the point your trying to make with me, 
be quick or back in side the hole you go to keep.
Boss it's the kids...I see inside the car.
I think and I may be wrong....I've been wrong before. 
But they look like twins or is it 'Boss' I'm color blind. 
Don't they appear 'Boss' and your eyes seem clear..
Are they not looking to be...of color the same as me.

Is It Poetry

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we;re all the same
there's no one to blame
for this pain
not walk in the rain
cause you like too
i tell you
from here and there
and every where
you see you can be

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and 'Ladies'

  and 'Ladies' young and old
do you even know
when i go into the grocery store
and how they come all around me
and i
not even paying attention
as they watch me squeeze this and
squeeze that
and they being all that you are
some what more and some few less
and they
take my hand and place it there
and in my hand they squeeze it
they squeeze it harder than they should
but i'm not paying attention 
and as i'm thinking about squeezing
that which needs to be squeezed
in my mind i am squeezing it more
and watching some become flushed
there faces grow dark and pink
so many
and so many my head spins around 
looking down as i feel
all of that juice run free
through my hands
and all of my critical thinking
has left me it's gone. 

Is It Poetry 

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Ecclesiastes 9:11 (New International Version)

this poem is on my website with this appended

Ecclesiastes 9:11 (New International Version) 
 11 I have seen something else under the sun: 
       The race is not to the swift 
       or the battle to the strong, 
       nor does food come to the wise 
       or wealth to the brilliant 
       or favor to the learned; 
       but time and chance happen to them all. 
A fitting ending to this CharlaXFabel. 

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Note re.Tom's Super Quiz Poet's Contest

Entries will be limited to the first 100 submissions.  Thanks...tom

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  1) ..Every time... I take a breath.
2) ..I think about... the trees.

3) ..Knowing that....deep down inside.
4) ..Each breath you longer can I clean. 

5) ..Is it True...your love I sought. 
6) ..When on my skin... you carve your heart. 

7) ..When here...upon my limbs birds nest. 
8) ..While knowing that each root...I need.

9) ..If leaves are poem makes.
10) ..And making strip my branch.

11) ..Where then will you..hang your swing.
12) ..Looking up..why do I see..a heaven without trees. 

Is It Poetry 

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American Scream - The Bill Hicks Story

Bill beat them to death. Verbose and belligerent, banal and brilliant, Hicks would beat
you with a joke until you weren’t sure it was funny any more. But you’d still laugh.
Advertising advocates he indicated, would be best dealt with through suicide. Like
lemmings, but really jumping.

Clearly he can’t have so concisely come down on those poor cretins alone. Blasting and
berating the bourgeoisie, leaving no stone unturned. Advocating erogenous interaction and
nature’s narcotics never felt so fresh.

He cut a legendary figure, shining in mono on the stage, an anti-hero in the spotlight,
questioning the questionable and querying great quandaries for our bite-sized attention
spans. All joking asides and jeering anecdotes. The great, the goat, Gods and grass
gripped us throughout. 

In his own immortal words, life is just a ride. Rails and loops, dips and troughs. Thrills
and chills. 

Bill’s the ticket inspector. Taking names and kicking ass. 

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its a matter of taste
mind s going to waste
should no be
its is the key
to move ahead
but has to to be fed
it will be your guild
its not a race or face

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this poems for everyone
ans some
there's work to be done
make a wish
have better year dish
don;t be like the fish
go one way here what i say
help other have a better day
show love and care

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Free Education

 sometimes wonder how many dark chapters are lost between the glitter of the details,
Flowers of the most beautiful bloom lay dead while artificial wreaths are being twined,
And how much do you think a poor man will have to pay to buy the smile of a rich man,
It is a sad fact that very often human happiness feeds and thrives on human miseries.

There are men prospering in stark proportion of the lesser man working for a pittance,
Some rear a superstructure of comfort on the foundations of another mans ruined hopes,
We hear hardened tales of misery in newspapers, televisions so often it has no effect,
Soul destroying factories, profit by repetitive tasks, cutting out long learned skills.

Even in these enlightened days where higher education is available to the rich and poor,
How can some of the poorer families get money to pay for their graduate's costly upkeep,
Can they purchase uniforms, books and pay for lodgings to be near the free university,
Free education is too expensive for working classes, so now we have it, nothing's changed.

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Coins turn tails and heads it seems so strait forward today we learn the 
variables of luck. 
 It seems so simple tails or heads but there is so many games that cheaters 
learn to play. Three card monte is all the bullies rage no one wins except the 
deal. Play it once then run for life away gambling would be fine if luck ruled the 
play. Men who gamble steal and kiss and cheat the way is linned with silk and 
pistol play. Flipping pennies on a crack to see how close to the wall they got. Eye 
ching tossing FIVE coins two land heads three land tails. TOTAL TWELVE. 
Twelve is good luck for a chinese Charlax android one. A bakers dozen is good 
for yew they laughed at me thirteen was lucky for the thieves. Greedy gain and 
lining money baskets is all that eye was ever taught by them.Then there was Two 
out of three where the coins had to match excatly we each had Heads twice the 
third time we both had Heads again. What now eye said he gave me the 
Quarter.Eye win. Liars poker has been popular for some time in the better bars. 
Look at the number on a Dollar bill and there is matches make a poker hand like 
8737738AA this would be Two aces and three sevens a full house for the player 
picks the best five numbers to stimulate the cards? simulate them eye meant 
like an android acting human and in love. Some Men toss piles in the pot and 
sweat the alcholoic breath and sweat real bullits from there chest of money in the 
corner in the safe marked all in ones. There are seven visible planets and 
luminaries (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn). Each one 
rules a day of the week (Sun=Sunday, Saturn= Saturday, Moon=Monday, etc.) and 
that is where the seven day week came from. Each one is supposed to have a 
particular virtue or power. "The 3 (spirit, mind, soul) descend into the 4 (the 
world), the sum being the 7, or the mystic nature of man, consisting of a threefold 
spiritual body and a fourfold material form. These are symbolized by the cube, 
which has six surfaces and a mysterious seventh point within..." 

A mystery unfolds the number seven is included in this fabel about lucky 

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theyer out there
this time of year
so be aware
 don't just stare
kept  your mine
in time
and in the socket
so your know

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If a country’s majority of people are illiterate
Democracy will bear no sweet fruit
Whereas if a country’s most of the people are educated
Democracy will bring peace, harmony and prosperity.

Therefore governments ought to provide education to all citizens
In order to obtain good results of democracy
And if necessary they should go for free education
For the poor people irrespective of sex.

On the other hand education should be up to the mark
And moral education should also be provided
So that a corruption-free society can be established.

Thus democracy is able to set up a welfare state
Within a minimum timeframe.

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Notes, Comments, Tomfoolery, and Clue!

Good evening, all is well.
First of all, let me congratulate all those who commented on the first Poem 
Contest posting I had.  Bear in mind, as Judge and Jury, only I am permitted to 
send messages without words...It was mentioned that this would be a tougher 
quiz...see with me, words are completely optional.  Re. the $160 electrician's bill, 
once, in my old house, I had one come and put a new ceiling light fixture in my 
father's room, and track lights in my room.  His work was awful, fixture was the 
cheapest thing...I had worked in a retail lighting store, and knew he paid about 
$20 for it, the track lights were extremely unsightly, the ceiling was butchered; the 
entire job took no more than 30 minutes, and he handed me an $800 bill!!  Talk 
about highway robbery.
Now a few bits of Tomfoolery, with but a few "Tom's Tidbits".

How can I lose more stuff than I own??
It's a struggle to figure out how to get my cell phone to work.  I wonder if that's 
because I've never been imprisoned.
Talk about hot flashes...I had my first with the above mentioned electrician.
A ringing in the ears is but to be expected by someone named Bell.
Did I mention about the Honda Civic Center??
My "No Words" Poetry form should be posted with the Soup.  What'ch ya' think;
"Tomfooleryesgue??" Any suggestions??
A bachelor like me gets so lazy, if I get hungry, the most I can do is take an olive 
out of the jar...w hands, of course...

Comments;  I wanted to post either "Electric Blanket" or "How to Pay Bills" but the 
Soup won't allow it, cause they're too long, and require two postings...Should they 
count as one?  Or should I just post part No.1, and leave it up to you clever 
people to find pt.2 on your own??  Is this idea acceptable, guys??  Please let me 
know.  The Soup is always busting my chops about using the number symbol.  I 
suppose there is a good reason....gotta find out why...they are like our parents 
here, at least for me.  Just wish they would cook me a meal once in awhile, 
maybe do the laundry or somethin'....

Kindly post your votes on third poem being "Electric Blanket" or "How to Pay Bills" 
which I have just "fine tuned" a bit...let's see how it runs now, or is, like a guitar, a 
thing in need of a tune-up to play.  You can post your votes as comments at this 
posting site, and "write-in Candidates" are accepted gleefully...
Now, up with Clue No. 1 on Super Quiz Poetry Contest. 

Okay, the moment you've been waiting for!!!  Clue No. 1

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The Global Warming Goblins


 The Global Warming Goblins 
 were gruesome 
sneaky creatures
and there are movies 
featured with these 
they 'd often spread
gruesome tales 
just to scare
they didn't care
like tales of dying whales...
and dying polar bears...
They'd pretend
to like nature .
They'd pretend 
to like humans
Yet, the gruesome
sneaky goblins
blamed them for the strife
they set out to hurt humans 
for the rest of their life.

Crunch! Gobble! Crunch!

"The earth will melt-they'd shout!"
And many more lies spread about!

"The earth will burn!"
"The  earth won't turn!"      

      Lies, Lies, Lies !

" Serve us or lose your  head!"
"For if you don't, you will dread.!"

 Crunch! Gobble ! Crunch!   

Copyright  McCuen  2008

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 “Pheonix is experimental courses involving the release of prisoners into society”: 
Professor Hardon was now speaking to his children “he was thinking of them 
already as his child and children he was daydreaming of a future world 
populated by his prisoners released into Society to jerk the world around on HIS 
string. When you do a book report eye the TUTOR have to grade them please 
read only CharlaxFables so you will learn something better and eye can pass all 
of you with highest honors. The Bathroom has been painted and the graffiti is 
fresh and it has to be one of you. NO almost Screaming Tommy Gunn jumped up 
and SPEWED his filthy words at the teacher. We think it is the girl that works as a 
Library assistant for she is not helping the people who are not students. The 
rules would work in a NAZI society there would be no loud talking in the library 
they Matron would walk among the computors and swing her MILLYCLUB if 
someone snickered. The portable classrooms have not yet arrived and the 
prisoners keep milling about in the library chasing a hope and a dream to the 
door of a classroom hoping it will magically appear in front of them while Charlax 
 Plugs are not available only in the outlets at the mall where you can also buy 
coffee in a latte snicker at the freezing cold and hold thy nose with burgers 
smelling like a dead old cow went yearning in the afterbrushes reeds and 
rushes in the ditches working on the center stone of the idea of the century. The 
Pig is dead the Rat is born a Chinaman's surprised the chinaberry's were so 
plastic tasting never boiled them never tried them after fried in oil and butter and 
the batter would be better with some butter and some soil. A man told me bugs 
are good sources of protein how can one man go so very wrong he is not alive in 
the same sense as ewe and eye. The semblance of an android to this human 
image eye become is striking mee on both my nerves today seems like a 
memory of half baked love. The Pheonix is now rising up the ashes of the 
judgments' won. 
 The Tutor is the elephant. The classroom is the world the students are the girls 
in love. The lady has a favorite song 

ewe aer my song 

my hearts desire 

my love of fortune 

smiling down 

my sweetYheart ewe 

my early life 

my later years 

my only love 

a song 

The Teacher is a ruler and a lover of the song. 
The professor is a lover and a ruler of them all. 

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Water breaks to freedom,
Flows and seeks its  own level:
Rebirth is as hard as crucible steel.

Emerging from the cocoons
Of our distributions,
We voyage backwards
To the womb of our beginnings.

Spreading our dreams on the levees
Of hope---our souls anchored in waters of faith,
We step on the shores of reunion 
As in the matter and manner of Esau and Jacob:

We are
Because Africa is…
Come brethren, let us 
Claim our birthrights here.

The circadian rhythms of time
Weaves us together 
Through the labyrinth of new life---
Each womb having bleed
The pain of joy of our every birth.

With pregnant faith---audacious determination,
Let us trod the paths etched in the mud:
Footprints of ancestors passing this way before us.

Come let us walk
The dried river bottoms
Paved with their bleached bones;
Leaving the dust of marches behind---
Keeping our eyes on the prize, let us soar
To the mountain top; catch the dream falling
And swoop down into the fertile valley before us. 

America became what she is 
Because Africa always was:

Come brethren, let us
Claim our birthrights here.

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My Image

Just Like we were made in God's image
I believe he was made in mine
time is of the essence, and ever since
he was brought into this world 
I been giving him something 
I never had, a dad
and like all children we all make mistakes
so he's gonna be looking to me 
to teach and distinguish real from fake
love from hate fact from fiction
true love from lust deception
and unjust from loyalty and trust
and if your gonna be anything successful 
in this world education is a must
no one said it was easy, but 
remember this anyone can give 
a speech, what makes you great
is the audience that you reach
this world isn't what it's all
cracked up to be, and trust me
we're still fighting for freedom
because honestly it's still not free
your father was made in God's image 
so, imma teach you how to walk like me
now you don't have to be like me
I want you to leave your own mark in life
so I leave with you life is what you make it
nevermind the roll of the dice

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its not cool
to follow a fool
its bad news
and the blues
best thing to do
is do

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i am 'Sad'

  i am 'Sad'
though not ashamed.
once some one said, 
to me. 
i was full of myself.
anyone, every one and
the rest who have, 
done it as well, i know.
i love the moon, not any moon
but your's is the only moon.
i love when Lily confides to me, 
about her Rose.
and the garden i tend always full.
i love toes, 
'God' made each toe i love.
and 'Given' the care he gave each heart.
he has shown me, 
and see it's like this.
if i had a single 'Rose' to kiss, 
'Lily' would soon have to know about all the rest.
and then all the moons, 
would find out about the best.
so you see, i am not that full of myself.
i am just always so heavy and full, 
like all the rest and i'm ready to burst.
and even the 'Lord' knows, 
that the toes that he makes are the best. 

Is It Poetry 

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they speak
its for kepts
they don't cheat
put in hands
and pin make the plan
ring bell of the hell
you go thur so mush apin do
just tell it too
they will paper walk

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it cheap
and it speak
you should kept
it around
writer things down
you never know
as you go 
you can show
and mabe win with a grim

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Callenge three

Incorporate, fifty word or less, must rhyme, and make some distorted Bell-ish 

Neutron star in a can of tuna
Feathered boa on my poodle
Cooking Black Flag noodles
sweet candy of concrete and caramel
Oop, I fell in my Fruit Loops!

Good Luck!!

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Thoughts, Comments

From a sleepy mind, unable to sleep...
These words I do feel deep...
The Soup has become my
number one family
One I spend my time with great joy,
I hope I don't too often annoy...
But that's what ya get,
When ya read a dumb goy...

Seriously (or as close as I can get)- to Christy- I am so glad you love the Shivaree 
song- it was on the ending soundtrack to Kill Bill II.  I first heard of it on a great 
NYC college radio station, WFUV, from Fordham University...I was driving when I 
first heard it, and nearly crashed!  I was awestruck, and haunted...I ordered the 
CD from Amazon (you can get anything there!)...and have heard it many times.  I 
have not been able to "get into" most of the other songs, because if you put a 
Picasso next to the Mona Lisa, you can't really judge.  I have trouble lately getting 
a continuous clean video (on You Tube, same as you)- and hope there is a video 
available from Amazon, but haven't checked it out yet.  
To my precious Shar, you are so sweet, and easily the most popular poet on the 
soup (well deserved)- I often get so wrapped up in writing, I have to train myself 
to read more- And I've been trying...ever amazed by the talent I read, there is not 
enough time in the day...and the reading is so pleasureable, it ought to be taxed!
(oops, none of us want that, it was a pun..."Monty Python"...the parrot sketch),
what a joy to have this great library to enjoy for years to come...And Christy, why'd 
ya' send the racoon here?- He just left and I had to join "The Racoon Club" to get 
him to go...Ya'll great, and I still got an hour or three left in me...

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Mixed Soup Bits!

Yeah, Ruby, but Elvis had drugs!!
To Fred- You ain't that fly guy, r u?
To Patricia- that bug you caught- was he Freddy the Fly?
Catch ya'll a bit later.....tom