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#theives
The wolfing theif who howls aloud A ravenous young man with just the essence of beast Who wears the forest on his back Who dashes down the rooftop steep Just to bridge the gap from far away And land, ever so slightly on the precipice sway Just to reach up gently and pocket the moon As a souvenir to take upon his way
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
Arsène Lupin III
I should probably eat better And quit smoking soon Money ends up with the debtor And stocks pop like balloons I know that I should know better But what do you know? Claiming to "know THE creator"? What an absurd notion... I really should exercise more Spend less time online At least I'm not so immature To pretend I know what's Divine.
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Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC
What do you Know?
Thieves are the night But they are not thieves That is just a dusty title They take only in your sleep And they take only what you don't have the strength to discard In dreams you must shed clean And rest in your new vulnerable sack Or you shall insomniate in your kept leavings You'll go quick mad with trains of ideas And fast blood Many perish when they power the buffets And tightening elements Instead of serenely observing from within the sway The thieves are amiable in our sleepy wound But stray awake They become fidgeting dead weight in blotted corners Or perched leaden upon your chest Playing with different ****** experiments A knowing one over a fearful child They are soon to knit together Your heart condition Your madness Or your nervy puppet disposition And your **** path To a less restless And more organic bed It is here that I must rest my words And match the horizon upon a mattress I breeze my mind And project a welcoming state To the thieves and the night.
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
Bed tending
Worship is fingers Awry offering baskets And ventures 'morrow.
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Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
Partition .001
It was a scam, a sham The flimmiest of flams There was more pork there Than a Christmas ham. It’s nothing but a racket Stuff it all into a big packet And put into a time capture Leave it until the rapture Where it can’t hurt anybody Then, fix yourself a hot toddy And laugh about how shoddy Future folks will think we are. They won’t be wrong by far. They’ll marvel at how many Candidates worth a penny, Or less, showed up to run Like the whole thing was fun And better than a TV show. How could they tumble for Not that good of a governor Didn’t know what lips are for Or what to say on the floor Yet some wanted her to run? What fun the press had with Filling up the internet bandwidth With screeching permutations Of tired old KKK reiterations Of the wonderful Aryan nation The South advocated before We had us a big-ass ugly war. It’s like they didn’t know they lost And were prepared to pay the cost To do it all over again, not just men But women too, who shouldn’t do Because they were not part of The government to be started up. It was rather Alice In Wonderland, The fuzzy details of their whole plan. Certain things were carved in stone. Some should go back to an age of stone And forever leave the real people alone. Because they’d shout out now and then That this world was meant for white men To run and control and own. Nothing tribal. They said it was written in their Bible Which was obvious they never really read Or they would know what it really said About helping the poor, the halt and lame. They went on doing harm in the name Of the King of Passion and Rescue Saying that was the wrong thing to do. They insisted they could do what pleases And it should have nothing to do with Jesus. It’s all about who is rich and who is not And who doesn’t need what they have got: All the good land and the mineral rights. The rest can just stay up nights working Two jobs, maybe three, they didn’t care. Those pundits had to start somewhere. Let those dishwashers and caddies Go get their own filthy rich daddies To leave them accounts full of millions So they could hire undocumented millions To build their dynasties of marble and gold. Really, folks. This story never gets old.
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
TWENTY FIRST CENTURY G.O.P.
It was a scam, a sham The flimmiest of flams There was more pork there Than a Christmas ham. It’s nothing but a racket Stuff it all into a big packet And put into a time capture Leave it until the rapture Where it can’t hurt anybody Then, fix yourself a hot toddy And laugh about how shoddy Future folks will think we are. They won’t be wrong by far. They’ll marvel at how many Candidates worth a penny, Or less, showed up to run Like the whole thing was fun And better than a TV show. How could they tumble for Not that good of a governor Didn’t know what lips are for Or what to say on the floor Yet some wanted her to run? What fun the press had with Filling up the internet bandwidth With screeching permutations Of tired old KKK reiterations Of the wonderful Aryan nation The South advocated before We had us a big-ass ugly war. It’s like they didn’t know they lost And were prepared to pay the cost To do it all over again, not just men But women too, who shouldn’t do Because they were not part of The government to be started up. It was rather Alice In Wonderland, The fuzzy details of their whole plan. Certain things were carved in stone. Some should go back to an age of stone And forever leave the real people alone. Because they’d shout out now and then That this world was meant for white men To run and control and own. Nothing tribal. They said it was written in their Bible Which was obvious they never really read Or they would know what it really said About helping the poor, the halt and lame. They went on doing harm in the name Of the King of Passion and Rescue Saying that was the wrong thing to do. They insisted they could do what pleases And it should have nothing to do with Jesus. It’s all about who is rich and who is not And who doesn’t need what they have got: All the good land and the mineral rights. The rest can just stay up nights working Two jobs, maybe three, they didn’t care. Those pundits had to start somewhere. Let those dishwashers and caddies Go get their own filthy rich daddies To leave them accounts full of millions So they could hire undocumented millions To build their dynasties of marble and gold. Really, folks. This story never gets old.
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