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In the winter i set my heart down,
making note of it in this poem.

It was heavy with ice and frost,
and i was lighter for its loss.

i wanted to pass the note along,
missing you so, to cry out to you:

PLEASE!  I LOVE YOU!!
...but you don't hear me though...

In the approaching spring you called,
and the hollow in my ribs ached;

we spoke different languages through
string-less tin can phones;

i sought out the place where my heart lies,
though i fear it cannot be found:

i had mailed you that treasure map,
and you lost it in translation.
Lauryn Hill is going to jail for not paying her taxes,
a fate that would surely befall us all if caught.

She argued to the judge that since her ancestors
were slaves, our economic system was imposed
on her against her will, invalidating her burden.

Pay your ******* taxes, you ignorant bigot.
When your ancestors started making money,
they started owing taxes.  This is a feature of
society called "equality."
What the **** is wrong with everyone these days?  I am of Irish descent...should I sue the British government for not helping my ancestors during the Irish Potato Famine, causing them to emigrate to America, where they then moved to the South, where the intensity of UV light has greatly increased my propensity to develop skin cancer as a result of the fair complexion inherent of my ginger Irish descent?

No.  I should not.  That is ******* ignorant.  But that is a very similar line of reasoning.  Shut your ******* mouth, Lauryn Hill.  Enjoy jail.
Hark! -
     mine hopes had loftily soared
     at your comely visage, young
     handmaiden, carrying the promise
     of much chivalry and banter upon
     eagles' wings of fortuity!

What goodness the Lord hath
seen fit to imbue on thy
outer trappings most surely
were indeed false, wherefore
thee proved thyself a most
unworthy jouster of conversation.

Dost thee not ken that real world in
which we live, rendering thy speech
thus? But alas...thou dost not.

Lo! -
     that only i could have understood
     what the ******* were saying...
deflated....

does anybody else ever have those times when you are just speechless at the level of stupidity we are surrounded with?
Earth is too tame these days,
too lax in competition.
i only see real men when we
attend the same protest rallies.

Talk stays cheap so that everyone
can afford it on any budget;
fistfighting in public is rude.

i have a genuine concern for the
welfare of my fellow man.
If they don't do well, what
will they have worth taking?

i *** in my backyard so the
dog will know it is MY yard;
my territory is marked;
he swears me fealty proper.

At the top of the food chain
we cull ourselves,
civilized.
O Dear Woman,
you sacred-gift,
that sweet-sound
we make!

You can try to deny it,
hide it, not abide in it...
but, when we get like that,
when our bodies intertwine,
unwind & tighten, connect,
create primal-friction,
they cascade our flows,
echoing the throes,
our *****-passions
off the walls
of seclusion!

O Dear Woman,
you sacred-gift,
that sweet-sound
we make!
The low hum
accentuates the pain,
needling vibrancy,
vivid-hues,
grafting stories
& inked impressions,
etched onto
your sweet-skin.

Such memories
& hurtful reminders
are told in cracked
kaleidoscope-colors,
bright dermis-murals
of your broken dreams
screaming for release,
remembering the beauty
of your heart,
now made warm
with skin-art.
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