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toby-m-noble
American
Cold summer night, quarter of the moon gone, still shines bright, down on this peaceful Adirondack night. Thinking of things I left, and those I haven't found. What could be hidden through the mist across the lake? Perhaps a vision of my next mistake.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:46 AM UTC
Untitled
Waves come back to me. They say everything happens for a reason, the changes of the seasons, the death of caesar, and the way you please her.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:41 AM UTC
Untitled
Does mystery discover or create? They sway; my feet. So do the clouds, funny. What makes me rock blocks the glows, the full show.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
Untitled
When you are frayed, Spinning, hanging on, Held by the last twine, No way of repair, Let go. Release the weight from your wrist. Fall, feel weightless plunging through the mist. Know nothing of chances missed. Just let yourself fall weightless through the mist.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:37 AM UTC
Mist
Load the needles stick their veins, get them healthy get them strong, I like to eat it while it bleeds. Put the dead brethren in the feed, make them fat make them tasty, I like to eat it while it bleeds. Hang 'em up by the feet begin to turn them into meat, slit their throats remove their skin, I like to eat it while it bleeds. Assortment of cuts at the store, get the cheese get the buns, I like to eat it while it bleeds. Turn on the gas ignite the grill, drink your beer cook one rare, I like to eat it while it bleeds. Lettuce and tomato yes pickles too, a little ketchup a little mayo, I like to eat it while it bleeds.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
Cows
I imagine the rain battering upon the neighborhood, out there in the dark, from what I hear. Its constant explosions on the leaves, on the street, on the walkway, on the roof. There is not only rain I hear on the roof, I don't think. I imagine wind always with the rain. The wind whips around the neighborhood, out there in the dark, from what I hear. Its always hallowing in the trees, over the street, across the walkway, against the roof. There is not only wind I hear against the roof, I don't think.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
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I built this castle, not by my hands but by theirs. I conquer foreign lands, not by my swords but by theirs. I eat and **** not by my food nor women but by theirs. I'm lost in exotic luxuries, not by my gold but by theirs. I do enough to keep the fools foolish, the ignorant ignorant and the weak weak. That is why they call me King, and I call them mine.
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Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC
The King
Poetry whirls down drains, cruises down highway lanes.. toll free. Poetry is a clear potion, a natural motion. Poetry is the bird gliding high, and of course, the sky. Poetry is thundering elk through forests and glades, and the wolves that keep pace. Poetry is the **** Poetry is democracy, and its unfortunate hypocracy. Poetry is eternity vanished in an instant. Poetry is a slaughterhouse, a vegetable garden. Poetry is cat and mouse. Poetry ascends to descend, breaks to repair, it's uncommonly rare. Poetry is the longest minute and the shortest hour. Poetry lives when it is dead. Poetry comes from the body, thought by the head.
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Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 1:51 AM UTC
Ars Poetica
Lucid silhouettes melt the air into psychedelic fluorescence, realities cast upon fleshy darkness forgotten by the light of day. Look on with distraught eyes as we dance through dark pleasance. I wonder of God and Lucifer, good times they had in their heyday. We race towards an apparent end; it's no apparition. Return to your mother and her blessings, its time to meditate, you've almost seen reality; can you finally see the evil of your disposition? War, I mean ****** only perpetuates the hate. Coercion and lies spread like wildfire, mystifying mind, body, and soul. Buy that item, it looks cool. Six months later, obsolete, you fools. If you've learned anything in life, don't get ****** at the troll, and don't be scared at the screams at night, just demons and ghouls. My mind is one hell of a maze, just got lost in a schizophrenic phase, or was it spirits in the transparent haze, plunging back into my cosmic gaze.
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Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 1:22 AM UTC
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