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SWB
American
Get on feet out of seats with a firm, stretched palm, maybe even stick a tongue out. Get hysterical, elated- get pumped. Yell something trite, That's what I'm talking about! Get a rush from the head to the Seoul, get a fresh set of wings, fly from the hardwood, get elevated. Full-court press be ****** This goes beyond the laces, the cheering, the stoic referee winded- travels hot fast and hard, after the huddle, before the late whistle and the fist-bump. This is success at its most savage, emotion at its rawest, audiences at their most breathless moment. This, son, is the slam dunk. Anything less would be a travesty to the occasion.
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Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Ode to the Slam Dunk
I squeeze the juice from my favorite words and store it inside a decorative vial. The contents are potent and long since stirred. The mixture's turned foul with stench and curds, with shame it's developed a semblance of bile, 'Cause I've squeezed the juice from my favorite words. In the days when epiphanies simply occurred- the privalege of picking choice cuts from the pile- the contents were potent and hadn't been stirred. Now I'm frozen, unable to harvest when spurred. There's a dangerous feeling I'm losing my style- I squeeze more juice from my favorite words. Enough lamentation; I'll focus on her- she's my passion, my engine, my nature, my Nile- her contents are potent and need not be stirred. Alas! I'm inspired, unflagging, assured. The momentum she gives lasts me infinite miles. I squeeze the juice from her powerful words- the contents are potent and need not be stirred.
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC
I squeeze the juice from my favorite words
Don't listen to dreams Steeped in midnight's cold blight. Don't listen to friends Who tote feeble insight. Don't listen to your TV, With its romance awry. But listen to you, With your heart beating wide, And your one true love Steadfast by your side.
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
Don't listen
Can I turn off your brain, like you do when you kiss me, so we can just feel?
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Can I?
What miracle my Love allows! She helps me walk atop rain clouds, and if my foot dips 'low the shroud- and pulls me toward dark, distant ground- She slows her pace, bends at the waist, then plants a kiss upon my brow. So once again my footing's found!
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Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
Her Miracle
You've handled more than you should take, then took my hand, refused to break. Amongst the promises and vows, there's one last truth I'll show you now- I'm mouthing words when you're not near and saving them for you to hear- *Replace your worry, tears, and blues with all my love and dreams come true.*
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Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC
One last truth
Rabble, babble, babble blinking buildings, ashen wood. Good posture turns preposterous, not feeling as I should. Bare back no racks of social tax, receipts below the hull; A lack of lax amongst the facts a tray of butts grown full.
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
rabble babble
Easy green tables filled with clammy empty bottles- This ain't the witching hour, but strokes away from church bells. Somewhwere between darts and eternal lines for level velvet I thought I heard a phone ringing but I know it's just Pink Floyd telling me the time.
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Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
Bottoms Up
Soaked senses tell me the top of the "mountain" is dry like ice. With a hyper-awareness I clatter along, with a warm coating of ever-changing plaid warmer than flannel- burlap bones wrapped in velvet veins- and all of these observations report to a head of fuzzy stars. So when this stairwell feels like a scene from the Cold War, with its chilled chipping cinder block, violent eruptions, and moaning drafts- a cause that my allies in the self-flushing latrines have long forgotten- I will understand, as they will, and you'll just have to trust the facts reported to you from yours truly. -Gonzo
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Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 7:26 AM UTC
Gonzo Journalism
I landed with heavy luggage and she surprised me at Arrivals. My heart jumped, exploded into speechless pieces, then melted.
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Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 10:36 AM UTC
Arrivals