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 Jul 2012 Erin Lewis
David Keagan
Abide by the rules of the world,
Because if you don’t they’ll surely just laugh at you.
Chase nothing but the average
Do like they all do.
Even if your heart says otherwise
Forget it
Go about your average day as planned.
Head up the elevator to your confined cubicle,
Initiate work mode.
Job description: “Whipping post”
Know your role
Leave content
Make sure they buy your counterfeit smile because,
No man can afford to be jobless in the land of average.
Often those who rebel are struck down and left at the curb
Poor financially and in spirit
Quick, get home to your average marriage
Reheat your average left overs from the average restaurant you ate at last night.
Sit down on your couch
Television on.
Use your free time wisely because 6 am comes early.
View your average prime time show
Wash the day’s grime off of your body.
X** another day off your list.
You now know what a day is like in the land of average.
Zealous towards nothing but the same.
An A-B-C style poem, my first ever, about the life of a person in the Land of Average.
 Jul 2012 Erin Lewis
David Keagan
Even on my darkest days
Laughter prevails
Misery is squashed
A 10 word poem with a simple point, just laugh! Life is too short to let sadness take over!
Meh
There is nothing
written worth reading...
No films worth watching...
No music worth listening to...

There are no men or women worth dating,
*******, marrying,
or buying a drink for...

Not a single story
dreamt or witnessed
worth acting out
in dreams or actuality...

If you pray,
remember,
no god is worth praying to,
dying for, killing for,
or living for...

As long as you have breath
in your lungs,
know,
deep down,
that nothing you have seen,
smelled, tasted, heard,
touched, or thought
is really all that great...

...until you realize that
everything you read,
watch,
listen to,
live,
dream,
or think
is limited to human nature.

We're all pretty stupid
when you think about it.
And that is precisely
what makes living so
*******
exciting.
Your face,
Tender, round and dimpled,
Framed with gilded, carved, tawny curled
Whirlpools of hair, long, lighted, and sparkling,
Your face is the face—
Of Ireland.

Your lips,
Full, moist and deathly deep,
Are wells, not well for me, not safe, taboo,
Tantric, tall told tales of brave Odysseus
Under Circe's alchemies
Of forgetfulness.

Your *****,
The zenith of blossom in fabled
Elysium, gateway to the forbidden gardens
Of sage and sinners, warrior-poets, Aphrodite's
Envy, Poseidon's drowning
And smoldering Zeus.
I left the house of the tempest brewing,
Spinning like a rod, spun into flame
And came upon the redwood forest,
Eternal, shouting out heavens name.

The sun was indifferent, the creek shuffled
Its lament, the birds fluted their dirge—
I was so small, in the red giants grove,
Yet, felt so beloved, my pain was purged.

And I warmly came to see again—
My eyes, through the needles drove,
What a trifling is ones fleeting mood,
How true, heroic, immortal is my love.
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