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"arrear" poems
On This Christmas Day With Trump There's an odd Santa Claus In the air Riding and laughing Atop Trump's hair Even through the fluff Blinded by the glare Reindeer pulling gifts of prayer Through the roots they go Low lights here and there Laughing in despair ** what sadness  it is to stare On a one, **** White Horse open Night mare ** ** ** Ploop Open open mouths  a sneer Tounges at war appear Whispers everywhere Laughing in despair Hats off We spare To the red suited fare Abound And confound To Trump's Wishy washy care Waiting in repair ** ** ** Santa, My good man, We have clause To tear You're in a mess To bare For humbug in Trump So held in arrear We're crying in despair Logan Robertson 12/06/2018
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Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
This Christmas Day With Trump
Should we ***** those Skies to settle the Cream And infuse Wicked Rhythms to your Fruit Flowers of such Scents do pose by the Ream And Mark this Herald-of-Excellence by June Benign such Time - the Time of Merry-Month Where Splashy Bonds condensate into Friends A Dab on his Nose - Smiles bloom to the South Apart from his Fly such Model amends But to you dear Promise Rain your Career Relieve Printed Points from Tweets inspire Where Prime Sports Pop merge Belief in arrear And place his Breath to your Mouth respire. Oh, those Songs! How merry Sentiments sing Naught, naught yet besought; Those Empowerments bring.
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May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: LEMON
i watch as worry fear the promise of incarceration skips across me and then settles into dad's wrinkly face. thirteen thousand dollars a sixty-two year old man who's worked his whole life for a family stuck with a bill by a cup of coffee with yellow teeth and diamond earrings on a leather couch thirteen thousand dollars people are always asking how much am i worth to you how much money would you give to be with me thirteen thousand dollars is the cost of one whole year that threw your entire life into shadow doubt complete and utter chaos fear despair thirteen thousand - - pieces of paper that we have put worth upon now decide your fate you will lose your house your family everything you own if you do not pay but let's be real you've lost it all before can once more hurt any less thirteen thousand ******* dollars in arrear fees this is how much one year of complete horror is worth and no, no one pays the ones who suffered we pay those that won... thirteen thousand dollars.
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 2:34 PM UTC
i would pay $13,000 to see you...if i could. but i still have to pay, and i don't get to see you.
You O Lovely Fingers wont disappoint Press-Brand for Chocolate your Face enjoys I recall these Roses; Such Heart anoint Though sincere my Friendship less a Real Boy At least by Theme my Good Sense offers Cheer Grateful such Sweet Reserve took my Notice Though apart - my Pink Uniform arrear Lowered your eyes from Expectation's complice Yet - if by Soul or Spirit must I Sing Which soon your Honest Clocks will reap your Love Less auxes and call-works; Haply I ring Wear this Headset; Connect his Kisses above. Till then - my eyes - must genuflect your Cause Stern an Agent's Wear; Soft a Woman's Gauze.
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Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: RACHELLE ANGELES
Times when I can’t find the words so right, When happiness turns into fright Times when I want to run away, for I can’t be me And there isn’t anything that sets me free. It hurts to be breathing for the pains too deep to be let gone And no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to go on. I don’t know till when I’d be on a test. I don’t know what they say or is it me that I detest. I can’t shut those eyes for they still seem to cry, Nothing ever works no matter how hard I try. Sometimes the light seems too bright, 'cause grims' gray has replaced all that was in sight. The next day just brings in some more bad luck, And in the end there’s no happiness to tuck. The times when I want to sink in and disappear, For my presence doesn’t count and existence another arrear
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
Mutterings