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 May 2014 Erin Hankemeier
Tryst
Old MacDonald has a farm and a love of poetry
And every night in the pale moonlight
He writes new verse in his own sweet words
And reads them out to me

I love you like my favorite hen who lays the biggest eggs
To hear her squeak and hear her squawk
Reminds me of the way you talk
And you both have spindly legs

I love you like my old sheep dog, the one that smells like cheese
He's past his best and mostly deaf
And has the worst **** awful breath
But he's always keen to please

I love you like the milking cows that waddle thru the town
Their bellies scrape along the floor
They barely fit through the old barn door
And their udders dangle down

I love you like the ***** sack that's hanging in the sty
Its wrinkled up just like your skin
Its great to stuff my potatoes in
And its always warm and dry

Old MacDonald has a farm and a love of poetry
And every night in the pale moonlight
He writes new verse in his own sweet words
And reads them out to me
 May 2014 Erin Hankemeier
Ranger
I care to much.
Every thing has a life
All things are special.
Every man or or woman
All plants of the earth
And every insect of the field
All life has a hope
Every person there place
All sons have a father
And every doughter a mother
So why do we fight
Killing each other for greed
And never seeing a person for there rights
Not there color
Or money
And not there age...
Only love

And I'm the monster on the shadows...
What does that make the rest of man kind
I am my biggest enemy,
I am my best friend.
I push myself of the ground
And criticize my self.

Then I'm the stretched out hand
Who picks me and brushes me off
I say the words that inspire me
Make me cry at first, and then laugh.

No one can take me away
From the person residing within me.
It tells me what to say,
Also the correct way to behave.
It sees what my eyes see,
it understands what I feel.

The truth is, I rule me.
The truth is, I'm not sure if any of the above makes sense.
Games, changes and fears
When will they go from here?

When will they stop.

I may appear to be free
But I'm just a prisoner, of your love
And I may seem alright and smile when you leave
But my smiles are just a front, just a front.

I play it off but I'm dreamin of you
I'll keep my cool but I'm feeling..

I try to say goodbye and I choke
I try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it's clear
My world crumbles when you are not near
Macy Gray
We are all guilty
When I say something
I want to be heard
A one word response or a murmur
May as well be silence
I feel ignored
Eye contact is no more
Your words are flowing
I respond
but what am I saying?
A conversation is never between two
There is always someone else with us in our hand
We are not in the moment
Because we are also in another land
But it is no land at all.
No ground to stand on.
No living thing to see.
Only words that come across the screen.
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