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A midnight run for food,
Has not come to fruition,
Everywhere is closed,
Last stop: delicatessen.

My heart turns to a shade of roux
That mirrors the glowing closed sign,
"No food for you!"
It mocks at me,
As I peer inside.

I think I'll break a window,
Just for halva nibbles,
But is five to ten in jail,
Worth the Jewish kibbles?

Oh deli, you've forsaken me,
By not relieving my hunger,
So I grab a couple rocks,
And start some wicked thunder.

There's so much food to choose from,
And it's all free for me,
But wait, oh no, I didn't see,
The camera light has turned to green!

I've been spotted by the deli owners
I should've worn a hoodie,
Now I'm going straight to jail,
Just to nom on goodies.

There's no point in running,
The red and blue are here;
I may as well just sit and wait,
Maybe grab a beer.

They sent a squad that spewed laughter,
When they saw their guy,
Just a dame, small in stature,
Making a ham on rye.

Luckily I'd made enough,
To feed the seven men,
So they radioed to all their friends,
And laughter began again.

Now that we're all satiated.
And I've been let go free,
I wonder, had it been opened,
Would I have such a story to tell,
"My Big Night at the Deli"
There will be no red jester,
no wolf, no jaded maid;
there will be me, of seven years,
blonde hair to narrow blades.

No speaking is involved;
we both know why you're here;
you've come to watch me evaporate,
or so both of us fear.

The lights start to get brighter;
the heat is too intense.
My body burns but you stand still;
the field 'round you is dense.

You stand so helpless,
As do I.
We watch the whole world crumble.
Friends of mine,
you don't know yet,
break away to rubble.

All at once, in not five seconds,
we're floating on in night.
The stars around me baffle;
no, this can't be right.

We're immortal, you see,
an affliction unforeseen.
Now I'm doomed to waft forever,
and live in the moon's gleam.

So the question stands, girl:
how long will you stay?
I remember a flitting dream;
it seemed to last a day.

Yes, it was, I do recall,
when I was not yet ten,
that I saw this all happen,
but I understood naught then.

So there it is, we have a day,
for me to impart all,
which of our grand hopes unfold,
and which were much too tall.

Don't be scared, my dear,
I'm sure we will be fine.
So take in all I say;
soak in every line.

We won't speak again,
and since there are few hours,
I'll share my words and hope they work,
in preventing the fire shower.

What seems like a minute,
but really was a day,
you start to blur and fade.
I'm sad you go away.

My fear is thick and soaked in tears,
and so we start to pray.

"Dear Lord, I know,
our world is broken.
It's full of hate and crime.
But, sir, please save the world I live.
It's all I have that's mine.
Find it in your heart, oh Lord,
to show this fille the way,
to stop the thugs and all the guns,
and give us one more day.



Amen."
My friends a hypochondriac,
doctor twice a week.
He looks so strong and burly,
but feels so sick and meek.

He heard there is a cure out there,
that heals what ails him so.
I just don't have the heart to tell him,
he's taking a placebo.

My friend is big and mighty,
and the sugar pills do work.
He says he's never sick now,
no aches, and nothing hurts.

I'm happy for him, really,
though I wish he'd known much sooner,
that sugar pills have what it takes,
to heal the kids of boomers.

Our parents taught us to be weary,
as they had had no means,
to heal themselves in the time of war,
when they were all just teens.

But times have changed, and we can now,
heal most every sickness.
But still there are hypochondriacs,
needing sugar to cure weakness.
WAITING FOR THE TRAIN
                                                           ­                                                                 ­      
As we sit here in the the sun,  we all love to see her run.
The tide is getting low, a little farther out is where I go,
Just holdin my position in the show.

The train set is sure to be some fun.  
As sure as the sun will rise and the salt gets in your eyes,
The train set is sure to come.

When you hear her coming down the track, just be sure not to turn your back.
Cause as every cardiff ****** knows, the train set is why you’re here.
Just wait until you hear that  whistle blow.

She’s screamin down the rail,  with one foot set tight on that new pintail,
first look left, then look back, She’s lining up, she’s right on track.
Just wait until you hear that  whistle blow.

She looks so sweet heading down that perfect line.
with the sun  setting behind the peak,  underneath her shoulders we sneak,
just wait until you hear that whistle blow.
Perched quietly above the clouds atop the great mountain the rainmaker gazed down upon his village. The crops were young and needed rain badly lest they perish in the blazing summer sun that was soon to come. Thinking back upon the great chief who preceded him, the rainmaker remembered the days of feast, but more sharply engraved across his worried brow was the memory of the great famines and the pain they brought to the families.
  It seemed the great chief before him could create rain clouds from the swirling dust devils that encircled the homes in the village. There were many glorious days when the rains would fall, and the rivers would flow full. But the rivers would only to run through the valley in torrents and wash out to sea, very little to be soaked up by the crops.
“How can I ever be a good rainmaker”, thought the young chief, I will never make the rains come as much as the great one before me, and even what rain I can coax out of the great rain gods, it will only wash away, and most of it will never feed the thirsty crops. For it takes scores of great storms to give the hard ground enough soaking to make it through the heated summer.
Oh great one, give me wisdom and grant me your gift of the rainmaker.
As the evening approached, the young rainmaker danced atop the mountain and shook his fists towards the sky, silhouetted against the full spring moon. On through the night he chanted, prayed and danced. At dawn a vision came to him from the great spirit... “My son, only with age and experience will the rains come for you as they did for me. You have the gift of the rainmaker, I have already given that to you...but it takes time to for this to develop.
In your prayers you have also asked for wisdom.... So heed my words. Teach your people how to capture the rain, how to channel its energy and to cherish each drop so that it may best serve the harvests we need to survive. Be crafty like the fox, and catch the rain”.
As the young chief ran down the mountain, he was filled with great inspirations, ideas and plans on how to carry out his ambitious charge. We will build great canals and basins to hold and distribute the rain, we will built shade structures to shade the rain basins from the sun, we will recycle the rain once it has passed through the fields and use it to water our livestock, we will nurture the small amounts of rain that I can bring and perhaps we will all prosper from our wisdom.
That night the young chief gathered his village elders to explain his plan.
“What is wrong with you!” exclaimed one of the most elder.... “Why can you not make it rain like before ?” we were happy then, and there was no talk of such work and discipline !! Let us be to tend to our hobbies and leisure.... You are the rainmaker, go make rain !!!”
“I am only blessed with but a little rainmaking power” explained the young chief... “But I have been given wisdom to share with you”.
Up stood another elder...”All this talk of wisdom and sacrifice, surely we must be granted more harvest shares for such an effort” “
"I cannot promise more harvest shares now my friend, not until we know our harvest” said the young chief. “
“We have many other endeavors to occupy our days than to make sacrifices because you are such a pitiful rainmaker... I am to built a great new longhouse this year, I have no time build such a rain catching system” said another. “We will need the crop harvest to be great this fall, I give much food to the needy ones who live in the village over in the next valley and will need to feed their large families come fall !” said another elder. “This just won’t work” chimed in another elder, I am to go on great journeys throughout this summer, and I need the crops to be bountiful this fall to fill my silos. “ GO MAKE RAIN !!
The dejected young chief slowly climbed back up the mountain, the weight of the harvest seemed heavy on his shoulders. If only they would listen to the wisdom that the great chief passed down to me. If only I could make them understand.
Then as the young chief looked up the trail, a beautiful princess warrior appeared before him. Do not fear my love, we will find a way to make them understand. Come with me, we will craft a plan.....
If the devil was real
I'd make a deal
to reobtain
what I let her steal
but if I did
matters may worsen
the deal I first made
may be with the same person
I love you more each day I think

Even with your fingers in your throat

While you hunch over in the sink.



...The odors you emit can make me gag

And in the morning your breath smell like a ***** **** rag.



You snore like a banshee feral hog

And you drool on the sheets like a mangy dog.



There is a sticky yellow goo that drains from your nose,

and makes me question the girl I chose

I hold my breath, and take great pains

to wipe the sheets before it stains



I see the fungus on your feet and toes,

I know I should bathe you, but

It’s really not that bad, as far as fungus goes.



When we make love I wish I had a bag

And when it’s done I wished I’d just been born a ***,



But in the end, you’re the one for me,

I don’t even seem to mind the burning when I ***.
My world is the people and places I see.  
A collection of thoughts and memories which can set my mind free.
It is changing, dynamic, always growing
It's what makes me be me.

As I walk through this forest, there is one thing I see
You can't love a person without loving his tree.
I built you a bridge,
then I broke it down heartlessly when you were halfway across
.......
This pretty much sums up the reason for most heart breaks. We should never lead someone on to loving us, without having the intention of loving them back.
I cannot write
I cannot find
behind the creases
of my mind
the words to fill
another line,
those words wait
out of sight
for now I
cannot write.
** hum
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