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Nothing really happened in my life,
never a kiss in the rain, a starless night
by the lake, nor a farewell note under
my pillow. Even so, I got paper flowers for
getting out of the way in Valentine's Day.  

I don't know you, but you've never been a Stranger to me.

You weren't him, were you? You don't
know nothing about me, do you? You
don't even care, you don't have to.
But you break into my life anyway, and
keeping a Smile on my face ever since.

How could you know me so well without knowing me for real?

And I wish you were here with me,
Holding sweetly together, you could
kiss my tears aside. Yet there you
are, not knowing anything, eating
your breakfast with my Goodnights.
To a British Sweetheart
They say a wild women burnt my soul.
coughed up ashes.
raised by a whiskey bottle and a pair
of loaded dice to roll.

She showed me the blues at thirteen.
Took me by the hand.
Said boy this lifes a party and this  one
beats anything your young eyes have ever seen.

And so the taste was made  and a cure i
havent found yet.
The  best of the worst  my sweetest   regret.

Life as a party  is a vision of night.
We find more answers unasked.
Then in the moment of a fight.

Back alleys and the quick fix.
The redlight reason.
And the devils bag of tricks.

Snake eyes and your last dime.
A slow trains exit.
A suitcase of soul  with a empty wallet full of time.

Half a pint of  happiness a empty bottle of blues.
The road  is a quest.
The  path yours to choose.

Texas heat to a New York chill.
Neon cast memories  a  loner's  existance.
And a thirst I can never fulfill.

Chords  echo softley a vast reflection  in rhyme.
Ive gotta  empty bottle for a heart.
And a wallet full of time.
 Aug 2010 Bridget Becker
D Conors
From puppyhood's hour I have not peed,
As others sniffed, I have not gleaned,
As others pawed, I could not seem,
To bark along with the canine teams.
From the hydrants red and wet with drizzle,
I have ne'er to leave  my yellow stream,
For my bladder had all fizzled,
Clogged with endless hordes of fleas.
Then- at the vet's, one gloomy dawn,
A very strange device was drawn,
And poked and prodded where I ill,
Then I was forced to take a pill.
Then from  the torrent of this river,
My shaggy fur began to quiver,
Upon my haunches did indeed I rose,
Feeling wetly coldness on my nose,
Then the raging yellow stream,
At last dislodged itself of fleas,
And to my great and sweet relief,
They lay a bone befor my feet.
_______
The original poem:
  
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Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
--edgar allan poe
D. Conors
27 June 2010
 Aug 2010 Bridget Becker
Nicky
It was always a competition.
But who were we to deny a challenge.
And so, for a short while,
The two most egocentric were joined,
As the perfect couple.
The kind you envied. And we laughed
At your jealousy,
And sought it further.
We could beat anyone.
The arts and logic were combined,
And we thrived off eachother.
We laughed and ******.
And the energy bouncing off the walls
Was enough to fulfil any aspirations.
But where were our enemies?
Where was our battle to conquer?
For ones friend was the others foe,
And the selfish don't require support
From loved ones.
Loyalties were questioned.
But silently. No words were spoke
For too long. We just
Glared at eachothers back.
Until it built up into hatred.
For logic and literature
Don't compliment eachother.
And the determined do not wish to be changed
By someone elses will.
So the claims of love,
Were revealed to be mere passion,
In the heat of the moment.

But still we race.
Blindly now, failing to see the others progress.
Trying to be rid of eachother.
Trying to be the first to not need the other.
Maybe you've made it to the line.
I'm still running.
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