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KathleenAMaloney Dec 2015
This Land is my Land
This Land is Your Land

...walk of Heaven

soft footsteps of the chockar  hunter
Snapping twigs across the hillside of being
..the sound of Peace

As the fluttering wings of the morning dove,
Just before the bullet strikes

World  of Love,  
the We of the me
both the hunter and the hunted
Free Grace
Unheld Captivity
Born of every moment
Love's Free Life

And so it is
Driving through small farm towns  western Washington .. Seeing and being seen by the land .. Now- gas and a prayer poem
jd Sep 2014
Hendes negle er perfekt formede og lakerede sorte
(hendes fingre knækker, når *** bladrer i bogen)
Hendes hår falder naturligt ned ad ryggen med de små tjavser
der former hendes ansigt
(hendes hoved føles tungt men tomt)
Hendes stemme er let og lyder af klokkeklang
(hendes indre stemme skriger evigt)
Hendes smil kan smelte enhver, og tænderne er en perlerække
(hendes spejlbillede har ikke set et smil længe)
Hendes ben er kilometerlange og giver hende en svævende gang
(hendes ben er blå af selvskyldige ****)
Hendes latter klinger gennem lokalet
(hendes tanker griner ad hende selv)
jd Sep 2014
*** frygter så meget at miste (ham)
at *** helt glemmer at nyde
mens *** har (ham)
Sure, the Huns may be stronger, faster,
But I’ll tell you first, it’s not disaster.
They may be fearless, vice-less,
And the stakes this day are priceless.

That must weigh heavy on your mind,
And it might away at your spirits grind.
It makes your heart burn, your blood race,
But on this day, they will be erased.

They come, by day, by night,
To conquer us and flex their might.
Tonight, we’ll break their endless siege,
Perhaps we’ll **** their liege!

Let the sun blot with countless arrow,
They fly like the chattering sparrow.
Perhaps most will simply miss,
And you shall brave the wooden blitz.

That one, slash his head from his shoulder!
Watch it fall off like a fleshed-out boulder;
That’s it, keep riding, they’re already breaking!
Your wives will, on your return, be waiting.

Go back to hell from whence you came!
Of the besiegers, we’ve killed and maimed!
Haha, look at them run, back to their mothers;
Keep them running for a hundred summers!
This one's about the Hunnic invasions in about 500 AD.

— The End —