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jim-mccunny
American
The girl is gone; from what, I do not know. She sold the sweets and then her job was done. It seems there was a constant undertow, And now she may rest in the soothing sun. With tangled hair and feet as large as tanks, The scout had yelled at everyone with glee And not a single word escaped but “Thanks.” It now seems strange without her company. The bear lay on the floor with ears alert, A serenade of “Blowin’ in the Wind” With hopes that it would sooth the searing hurt. It didn’t work, but still, to see that grin. The beans must now take on her lazy throne, “Without this girl, we never would have grown.”
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Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:09 PM UTC
The Girl, The Scout and The Bear
There once was a man A man “with a plan.” For our purposes We’ll call him “Dan.” Dan had a friend A friend “’til the end” But a hand was one thing This friend couldn’t lend. Dan cried for a lift As he hung from the cliff And he hated himself Every minute of it. And they sat in silence Obvious Passive Violence But no matter how he tried, His mouth remained flat. Dan needed some help Like pants with no belt But his friend “’til the end” Had no message to send. And Dan cursed at his past For things move too fast In a world where you can’t Leave the thoughts you had last. And Dan cursed the world The world he unfurled Through the months long before And his body felt torn. And as Dan wept Alone he was left And his friend “’til the end” Didn’t give the smallest little **** So Dan cursed his friends As his knuckles turned red And the dirt in his fingers began slipping free. And he cried out for help Like pants with no belt But a hand was one thing That this friend couldn’t lend. It’s a matter of pride Of choosing a side But Dan didn’t want To go for this ride. And the sun burnt down hot And the moon burnt up cold And his heart, it did rot And his mind did unfold. He cursed everything From the sun to the moon And a poison in him Did bloom in the gloom. He said “I don’t care,” But an occasion so rare Made this man stare At his friend’s hollow glare. As Dan’s knuckles turned bare His friend, he did stare And his friend said “Dan, this isn’t fair.” Dan knew he was right, But straight out of fright Looked down to the beach: The glass man was in sight. “You treat me so wrong,” Said this man’s friend “Please just tell me… When will it end?” Dan tried to speak out Without having to pout For he knew exactly What he was talking about. “Please, my dear friend,” Cried the man on the cliff. “If you could just lend a hand We could end this small tiff.” “But a cliff top, so high As the one you stand by Is something I cannot do alone. So, please, my dear friend… Be willing to try.” And these mortal two These mortal few Who stared below At the water so blue Stared at each other Thinking anew. And as for their fates, I’ll leave that to you.
0
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:07 PM UTC
The Clifftop (Enlightenment Part III)
There once was a man A man “with a plan.” For our purposes We’ll call him “Dan.” Dan had a friend A friend “’til the end” But a hand was one thing This friend couldn’t lend. Dan cried for a lift As he hung from the cliff And he hated himself Every minute of it. And they sat in silence Obvious Passive Violence But no matter how he tried, His mouth remained flat. Dan needed some help Like pants with no belt But his friend “’til the end” Had no message to send. And Dan cursed at his past For things move too fast In a world where you can’t Leave the thoughts you had last. And Dan cursed the world The world he unfurled Through the months long before And his body felt torn. And as Dan wept Alone he was left And his friend “’til the end” Didn’t give the smallest little **** So Dan cursed his friends As his knuckles turned red And the dirt in his fingers began slipping free. And he cried out for help Like pants with no belt But a hand was one thing That this friend couldn’t lend. It’s a matter of pride Of choosing a side But Dan didn’t want To go for this ride. And the sun burnt down hot And the moon burnt up cold And his heart, it did rot And his mind did unfold. He cursed everything From the sun to the moon And a poison in him Did bloom in the gloom. He said “I don’t care,” But an occasion so rare Made this man stare At his friend’s hollow glare. As Dan’s knuckles turned bare His friend, he did stare And his friend said “Dan, this isn’t fair.” Dan knew he was right, But straight out of fright Looked down to the beach: The glass man was in sight. “You treat me so wrong,” Said this man’s friend “Please just tell me… When will it end?” Dan tried to speak out Without having to pout For he knew exactly What he was talking about. “Please, my dear friend,” Cried the man on the cliff. “If you could just lend a hand We could end this small tiff.” “But a cliff top, so high As the one you stand by Is something I cannot do alone. So, please, my dear friend… Be willing to try.” And these mortal two These mortal few Who stared below At the water so blue Stared at each other Thinking anew. And as for their fates, I’ll leave that to you.
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88
That night I did cry, That night in July, As I read the note which told me of the demise Of the man made of glass Who lived atop the mountains, so high. His prismous chest lay in pieces Upon the rocks Which never knew his name. And the light he reflected for so many years Never again would know their singular form, And they scattered their rainbows On the blanket of water below. For the summer, before, All he had known Was the new cougar in the jungle below Who sat and watched And swirled its long tail Through the glass man’s light. The golden cougar lay still With its tail so long And lifted its paw And purred when it saw The man atop the tall hill. And the man did grin But knew not of the sin Which awaited the summer sun. The next day he awoke With the sun in his chest To find a golden cougar Licking his smooth, glass toes. It purred and it purred And its tail was so long. And the man’s mouth formed a crescent. The cougar swirled its long tail And nipped at his toes And clawed at his shins And scratched at his knees; But the man made of glass He let it all pass Although his feet grew frail. “Could this be real?” Did this cat feel The skin of the man Made of glass? “I feel like a man!” And each day he ran To see his idol feline. And this went on for weeks And the day of which my note speaks Came with a whip of the cougar’s long tail. “I’m bored,” purred the cat “And just for some fun We can go up and run To blot out the sun.” The man didn’t fret Thought his feet felt so wet And he nodded at the cat For peace for him Came in the form of a rat. They ran up the mountainside And looked down at the tide Which beckoned to them below. But the man need not worry, Said the cougar, “It’s all just for show.” And she playfully nipped at his ankle. At this the man heard a noise And began losing his poise And felt the wind on his face. He saw patterns on the approaching rocks Brought from his chest; And his shattered ankle to the left of his head. On the cliff top, above The man could make out a golden figure Swirling its long tail. And it was this action Of fatal attraction Which noted the fast growing refraction Appearing on the beach below. And with a frail hand, He wrote in the sand “We are not the players On the stage of the world. We are the riotous crowd With tickets in hand, And we can be shattered with but One, Single Word.
0
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:07 PM UTC
Summertime Blues (Enlightenment Part II)
That night I did cry, That night in July, As I read the note which told me of the demise Of the man made of glass Who lived atop the mountains, so high. His prismous chest lay in pieces Upon the rocks Which never knew his name. And the light he reflected for so many years Never again would know their singular form, And they scattered their rainbows On the blanket of water below. For the summer, before, All he had known Was the new cougar in the jungle below Who sat and watched And swirled its long tail Through the glass man’s light. The golden cougar lay still With its tail so long And lifted its paw And purred when it saw The man atop the tall hill. And the man did grin But knew not of the sin Which awaited the summer sun. The next day he awoke With the sun in his chest To find a golden cougar Licking his smooth, glass toes. It purred and it purred And its tail was so long. And the man’s mouth formed a crescent. The cougar swirled its long tail And nipped at his toes And clawed at his shins And scratched at his knees; But the man made of glass He let it all pass Although his feet grew frail. “Could this be real?” Did this cat feel The skin of the man Made of glass? “I feel like a man!” And each day he ran To see his idol feline. And this went on for weeks And the day of which my note speaks Came with a whip of the cougar’s long tail. “I’m bored,” purred the cat “And just for some fun We can go up and run To blot out the sun.” The man didn’t fret Thought his feet felt so wet And he nodded at the cat For peace for him Came in the form of a rat. They ran up the mountainside And looked down at the tide Which beckoned to them below. But the man need not worry, Said the cougar, “It’s all just for show.” And she playfully nipped at his ankle. At this the man heard a noise And began losing his poise And felt the wind on his face. He saw patterns on the approaching rocks Brought from his chest; And his shattered ankle to the left of his head. On the cliff top, above The man could make out a golden figure Swirling its long tail. And it was this action Of fatal attraction Which noted the fast growing refraction Appearing on the beach below. And with a frail hand, He wrote in the sand “We are not the players On the stage of the world. We are the riotous crowd With tickets in hand, And we can be shattered with but One, Single Word.
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89
I have no arms I hold a blade I burned the farm, Unleashed the swarm They called me Rover Wade. I thought that you Could understand But way too few Attempts at blue Have lent a helping hand. I want to know To see a flare, To shoot the crow. I want to know: Capacity to care. If you were me And I were you, Then you could see All that may be And I could see it, too. But as for now I merely wait; I watch this town Turn golden-brown At a saddening rate. With silent pain I’ve heard a scream I meant no harm Or imply to deign: There is no “I” in “team.”
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Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC
Enlightenment
I want to live and I want to love. I want to see and soar high above. I want the world to look in my eyes and then look at themselves to see their own lies. I want to leave my mark on the world and see banners displaying my name be unfurled. I want you and I want me. I want to know and I want to see. I want to experience and I want to learn, And after it all I want to see it all burn.
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Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:05 PM UTC
What Makes A Child Normal?