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SQUEAK the fife, and beat the drum,
Independence-day is come!
Let the roasting pig be bled,
Quick twist off the cockerel’s head,
Quickly rub the pewter platter,
Heap the nut-cakes, fried in butter;
Set the cups and beaker-glass,
The pumpkin and the apple-sauce;
Send the keg to shop for brandy;
Maple-sugar we have handy.
Independent, staggering ****,
A noggin mix of swinging thick;
Sal, put on your russet skirt,
Jotham, get your boughten shirt;
To-day we dance to tiddle ******.
—Here comes ***** with his fiddle;
*****, take a dram of whisky,
And play up Yankee Doodle frisky.
Moll, come, leave your witched tricks,
And let us have a reel of six.
Father and mother shall make two;
Sal, Moll, and I, stand all a-row.
*****, play and dance with quality;
This is the day of blest equality.
Father and mother are but men,
And *****—is a citizen.
Come foot it, Sal—Moll, figure in,
And, mother, you dance up to him;
Now saw as fast as e’er you can do,
And, father, you cross o’er to *****.
—Thus we dance, and thus we play,
On glorious Independent day.—
Rub more rosin on your bow,
And let us have another go.
Zounds! as sure as eggs and bacon,
Here’s Ensign Sneak, and Uncle Deacon,
Aunt Thiah, and their Bets behind her,
On blundering mare, than beetle blinder.
And there’s the ’squire too, with his lady—
Sal, hold the beast, I’ll take the baby.
Moll, bring the ’squire our great arm-chair,
Good folks, we’re glad to see you here.
Jotham, get the great case-bottle,
Your teeth can pull its corn-cob stopple.
Ensign,—Deacon, never mind;
’Squire, drink until you’re blind.
Thus we drink and dance away,
This glorious Independent day!

     Royall Tyler (1757-1826)
Our fathers fought for Liberty,
They struggled long and well,
History of their deeds can tell—
But did they leave us free?

Are we free from vanity,
Free from pride, and free from self,
Free from love of power and pelf,
From everything that's beggarly?

Are we free from stubborn will,
From low hate and malice small,
From opinion's tyrant thrall?
Are none of us our own slaves still?

Are we free to speak our thought,
To be happy, and be poor,
Free to enter Heaven's door,
To live and labor as we ought?

Are we then made free at last
From the fear of what men say,
Free to reverence today,
Free from the slavery of the Past?

Our fathers fought for liberty,
They struggled long and well,
History of their deeds can tell—
But ourselves must set us free.

James Russell Lowell  (1819-1891)
  Jun 13 ConnectHook
Thomas W Case
On the backs of
flies
we wait for the
next thing.
Something is
always coming.
A birth or death,
food or hunger
hatred
laughter
love...

Something is always
coming around the
corner.
The Mad Hatter with
mushroom tea.
A strange color of
blue that tastes like
almonds.
A ****** that sparkles
in the night.

Listless mornings
of languid
walks with the
wife in the cool
of the evening.

A knife in the back,
a shark attack,
or maybe, just
possibly, you write
a poem about
waiting for the
next thing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tpMDoNXg_U
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry to promote my books, Seedy Town Blues, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, and my latest, Sleep Always Calls.  They are available on Amazon.
A night at the Museum,
and we're dressed to ****.
The mood is gleeful–
and the people, chill.
All court the kings and queens of shill.

Our ****** deeds are whitewashed clean.
Our grievous crimes are left unseen–
sanitized versions on the tv screen.

But our steps were tracked with care
by one who could no longer bear
the growing horror, the scenes from there.
The cry of anguish, the dead-eyed stare.

Now the blood drips on our shoes.
Our deaths headline the evening news.
Yet still, the truth has only views
on internet sites with volunteer crews.

When there is no other way
Desperation will have its day
If you really want to see what's going on in Gaza, you have to go to sites such as Reddit and look at the World news subreddits. Then you'll understand.
  May 8 ConnectHook
july hearne
i.

let's give pakistan money
to nuke india.
never a higher mountain than trash.

the Western world needs this to happen,
both are a problem,
but one more populated than the other.

looking for a job lately?
there is so much to be said for colonization.
india says everything.

india amazon selling bottles of cow ****,
either (don't) accept it or drink it,
do you really want to drink it?

some days are over,
we have learned too much, we see and see and cannot stop seeing.

ii.

too much loneliness
a number that stays zero
dreams that have nowhere left to travel
the times, they are so bare

the way hope expels
for good,

the king of England
wears a tablecloth on his head
his kingdom, his country, a gutted intestine
it is very crowded there

all the king's countrymen &
all the good places to go
disemboweled
third world kneels in parasitic prayer

***** garbage on the ground, ***** garbage all around
the way hope expels
for good,
it is no small tear
To all muslims and hindus who have attempted to take stake in the Western world: you have shown the world who you are;  you are not compatible with us, you ruin everything you touch. your countries are proven to have an IQ of below retardation.  Western countries have and will continue to acknowledge this. Get out while you still can. You are in our countries because your countries have failed and have proven yourselves completely incompatible with our countries and completely incapable of proving your worth to us. You are not capable of sustaining anything livable and will never be. You are cursed by your own pride.
ConnectHook May 8
I am convinced
that 85 percent of H.P.
is composed
of chatbots.
a fake-*** poem
in the style of Rupi Kaur
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