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david-lauer
American
I am the only idiot who is so thick that he would think to take a walk At three in the Monday morning But I am not alone. There are others, Transient beings Venturing forth into the shadows between the street lamps No one is here to stay. We are all travelers. Where are you going? From whence do you hail? Why is there not silence? There is no one conscious here. My footsteps do not make a sound. But the sounds are there. Under every streetlamp, the highway sings. It is an ugly song, but a song that calls one away never the less. The sailors heard its prettier, younger voice. Now it has grown old, and its voice is gravely from too many cigarettes And it strains to keep singing, nothing but a cup of coffee holding it back From peace. Now, a dog. Bashful, quiet, dark, tail held between its legs Runs out under the streetlamp, beside I, the boy in the trench-coat and fedora To donate to the national trust He glances, back, and forth. He knows I see him, but it don't matter. We are partners in crime. I am here, laughing at the world too. Where are you coming from, friend? The dog asks me. No where. I like to think I am going somewhere beautiful, though. Where are you going, friend? I ask the dog. Paris, the city of lights. I have heard it is lovely this time of year. Then godspeed, pooch, for your journey is a long one. And with a nod, he let loose one more line: You realize you look like a ****** right? And then he was gone. Another transient being. What a funny place This world is On Monday morning, At three AM. And here I am, heeding the highway's siren song.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:23 PM UTC
Monday Morning, 3 A.M.
I am the only idiot who is so thick that he would think to take a walk At three in the Monday morning But I am not alone. There are others, Transient beings Venturing forth into the shadows between the street lamps No one is here to stay. We are all travelers. Where are you going? From whence do you hail? Why is there not silence? There is no one conscious here. My footsteps do not make a sound. But the sounds are there. Under every streetlamp, the highway sings. It is an ugly song, but a song that calls one away never the less. The sailors heard its prettier, younger voice. Now it has grown old, and its voice is gravely from too many cigarettes And it strains to keep singing, nothing but a cup of coffee holding it back From peace. Now, a dog. Bashful, quiet, dark, tail held between its legs Runs out under the streetlamp, beside I, the boy in the trench-coat and fedora To donate to the national trust He glances, back, and forth. He knows I see him, but it don't matter. We are partners in crime. I am here, laughing at the world too. Where are you coming from, friend? The dog asks me. No where. I like to think I am going somewhere beautiful, though. Where are you going, friend? I ask the dog. Paris, the city of lights. I have heard it is lovely this time of year. Then godspeed, pooch, for your journey is a long one. And with a nod, he let loose one more line: You realize you look like a ****** right? And then he was gone. Another transient being. What a funny place This world is On Monday morning, At three AM. And here I am, heeding the highway's siren song.
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The glinting steel, the bell-guard bright Beneath the stark fluorescent light Upon the armor, black and white The Epees two did wheel I dance, dart, leading with my unbloodied tip The battered blade glints and clatters I grapple with another steel and titanium edge, Twisting, trampling, fighting Thirsting for blood, the electric jolt of victory I wait. A mistake, an opportunity, an open port The walls are breached, the banner glows red And victory cries its piercing song. Then, A pause. Prepared again, back into the fray I dart Adrenaline rushing through my warm, glinting steel A catch, a crunch, a splitting sword My upper half flies, spinning, across the battlefield. Flashing back, battles won and lost   Then cold silence He who lives by the sword dies by the sword. And the brightest flame burns half as long.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:21 PM UTC
Ballad of the Broken Blade
Six AM, on my feet and staggering. Eight AM, I'm on a poetry binge again. You know, I've got no sleep and my words ain't deep but I've got so many dreams.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:15 PM UTC
Poetry Class Morning
Hazelnut hair over hazel eyes Listening to my funny lies For all I know, the Egyptian Helen looked just so Smarter than the girl in the library, I know
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:09 PM UTC
Katie's Stanza
Fate isn't a rock, or even a path. Fate moves in eddies, currents, and tides. Some you must embrace, and some you must fight. Of course, they all look exactly the same.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:06 PM UTC
Vir's Song
The clouds are slowly parting Dew is in your eyes Leaves are slowly falling As summer's peeping dies School begins, children learn of arts And freedom gives a little cry But roses live forever in our hearts And lilacs never die In the minds eye We are soaring over the city We cut through the air as a knife Brave, bold, quick and witty This is the springtime of our life.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:05 PM UTC
River Valley
Two lips are as two lips do One is one plus one is two Two minds mean four lips One plus one is one eclipse An eclipse is an astronomical event that occurs when one celestial object moves into the shadow of another. Two heavenly bodies Orbiting a yellow dwarf I am but a satellite To your world Plunged into stellar darkness As you cross my path Eclipsed by you, bright planet Planet of millions of beautiful things.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:02 PM UTC
Eclipsed, a poem of adoration
There is But one Uber-Sun! And many Uber-Suns around it! It was that way when creation was done. And that is the way the verse is knit. The Uber-Sun is big and bright And bright are the Uber-Suns many And no matter what has been or might Candy (on the uber-sun) will remain a penny And the Uber-Suns see no despair No hunger and no fear For Uber are the people there And on every planet near. But do not think you would live upon A star, uber and mighty For on the Sun a fire is a lawn And air conditioning is flighty And for a Minnesotan chill, A sun is very scary For lack of snow, you take a pill And two for lack of prairie But now-now, child of the earth Do not think all is lost On Earth there is much mirth And solace in the frost
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 8:51 PM UTC
The Uber-Sun
BOMB MARS NOW BOMB MARS NOW WE'VE GOT MEGATONS OF NUKES LET'S GO BOMB THOSE MARTAIN PUKES NOT IRAN, NOT A 'STAN AND NOT NORTH K, LET'S USE OUR BOMBS ON MARS TODAY BOMB MARS NOW BOMB MARS NOW THE MARTIANS HATE OUR WAY OF LIFE THEY WANT TO **** YOUR KIDS AND WIFE THEIR RELIGION THROWS HUMANS ON THEIR *** LET'S TURN THEIR PLANET'S GROUND TO GLASS BOMB MARS NOW BOMB MARS NOW BOMB MARS NOW BOMB MARS NOW
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 8:48 PM UTC
BOMB MARS NOW
Waves roll in, pounding surf Speeding along below the grey skies. Spewing **** screaming ******* songs of sadistic “self-control” According to angry-woman, assessment of everything outweighs any enjoyment Waves roll in, pounding surf, Speeding along below the grey skies Red in the distance reflects the ranting repulsive requiem that redefines our ride Learning loses love and lacks life when you demand ludicrous lapses of logic like lectures, Busy-work, bad business that burns the brains of brilliant children. Breath in, breath out. Listen. Don't burn out. Let the waves wash over you Waves roll in, pounding surf. Speeding along below the grey skies. Only human. The sky is clearing, but in this car you become a demon. Only human, beneath grey skies. Waves roll in, pounding surf.
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Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
Surf In A Grey Car