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"charley" poems
And how sweet a story it is When you hear Charley Parker tell it, Either on records or at sessions, Or at offical bits in clubs, Shots in the arm for the wallet, Gleefully he Whistled the perfect horn Anyhow, made no difference. Charley Parker, forgive me- Forgive me for not answering your eyes- For not having made in indication Of that which you can devise- Charley Parker, pray for me- Pray for me and everybody In the Nirvanas of your brain Where you hide, indulgent and huge, No longer Charley Parker But the secret unsayable name That carries with it merit Not to be measured from here To up, down, east, or west- -Charley Parker, lay the bane, off me, and every body
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241st Chorus
"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles." Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack? Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack? Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag? Suppose you duff? or nose and lag? Or get the straight, and land your *** How do you melt the multy swag? ***** and the blowens cop the lot. Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack; Or moskeneer, or flash the drag; Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack; Pad with a slang, or chuck a *** Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag; Rattle the tats, or mark the spot; You can not bank a single stag; ***** and the blowens cop the lot. Suppose you try a different tack, And on the square you flash your flag? At penny-a-lining make your whack, Or with the mummers mug and gag? For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag! At any graft, no matter what, Your merry goblins soon stravag: ***** and the blowens cop the lot. THE MORAL It's up the spout and Charley Wag With wipes and tickers and what not. Until the squeezer nips your scrag, ***** and the blowens cop the lot.
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Villon's Straight Tip To All Cross Coves
"Hello," said Charley, the elder of the two. "You may wonder what I am doing in your lavatory." "Oh, there you are," said the younger "I wondered how you had left so quickly."
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Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 12:21 AM UTC
As I Went To Fill My Water-Bottle
by rgpage I never cried in viet nam, I  just seemed to take it in. The missing limbs and twisted flesh friends one day and gone the next. Was I too young to understand? And need someone to take my hand? No mother there to hold my hand               no father there to teach me ways. To lead me through the day by days. Just left alone, and alone I stayed Instead I found my bottle friend to stay my tears and hide my fears. Back then “charley” felt they owned the night. With blusterous thud the mortars hit, Of saying hi it was “charley’s” way then to be my friend by day. From no where came the dragon ship, and tipping his left wing as a polite executioner saluting his victim just before unleashing hell. W/ firery tongue lapping up the earth while mini-guns roared, eagerly devouring all living things, leaving “charley” w/ no where to run. All clear, a small visit w/ my bottle friend and back to sleep in the alcohol deep. I was no John Wayne, I didn’t fight the war a target yes for “charley’s” sights when the sun gave way to night. But no, I didn’t fight. I never cried glossary: Charley=VC=viet cong=enemy: by day he acted like any of  the population, some were even employed around the various bases. But at sundown he would turn… Dragonship=C-47=2 or 3 several barreled mini-guns mounted on left side of the plane capable of firing a few 1000 rounds per minute each w/ a phosphorous round placed at every 6th round a tracer. At night this made it look like a steady stream of fire coming from the plane, hence the name “dragon ship” or “puff the magic dragon.” To aim the pilot had to dip his left wing and fly in a counter clock wise fashion. Very effective weapon… Written for a special friend A.S.
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Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
I Never Cried
by rgpage I never cried in viet nam, I  just seemed to take it in. The missing limbs and twisted flesh friends one day and gone the next. Was I too young to understand? And need someone to take my hand? No mother there to hold my hand               no father there to teach me ways. To lead me through the day by days. Just left alone, and alone I stayed Instead I found my bottle friend to stay my tears and hide my fears. Back then “charley” felt they owned the night. With blusterous thud the mortars hit, Of saying hi it was “charley’s” way then to be my friend by day. From no where came the dragon ship, and tipping his left wing as a polite executioner saluting his victim just before unleashing hell. W/ firery tongue lapping up the earth while mini-guns roared, eagerly devouring all living things, leaving “charley” w/ no where to run. All clear, a small visit w/ my bottle friend and back to sleep in the alcohol deep. I was no John Wayne, I didn’t fight the war a target yes for “charley’s” sights when the sun gave way to night. But no, I didn’t fight. I never cried glossary: Charley=VC=viet cong=enemy: by day he acted like any of  the population, some were even employed around the various bases. But at sundown he would turn… Dragonship=C-47=2 or 3 several barreled mini-guns mounted on left side of the plane capable of firing a few 1000 rounds per minute each w/ a phosphorous round placed at every 6th round a tracer. At night this made it look like a steady stream of fire coming from the plane, hence the name “dragon ship” or “puff the magic dragon.” To aim the pilot had to dip his left wing and fly in a counter clock wise fashion. Very effective weapon… Written for a special friend A.S.
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Salvador Dali Rode a Harley-Davidson All the way from Bali To Abu Dhabi With Charley the Cat Riding pillion. Said Charley to Dali All weathered and gnarly I get quite incensed By children's lack of road sense. When I get back to Britain I think I'll start A Road Safety Campaign. Good idea Said Dali To Charley Who replied Thanks a million.
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 3:15 PM UTC
Salvador Dali And Charley The Cat
Charley Bob is a "walker". He walks the roads and avenues where I live. He doesn't appear to have a job, he just walks.....every day. He use to walk with his zipper down and with flacid ***** in hand proudly display himself to all who drove by, but that embarrassed many and they made him put his security blanket away. Now he just grabs his crotch like the gangstas downtown. Sorry Charley. Every town has a "walker", some have several. You've seen them. They walk the streets, lost in their own little worlds. They look the same as they did 20 years ago. There's the lady with nary a tooth in her head, her ankle length skirt and her Pentecostal hairdo (PHD). They say for 50 bucks she'll let you know why she has no teeth. She's a "working girl walker", but she is still a "walker". Once I was walking downtown, and as I passed her she angrily mumbled something to me, all lips and gums, "Muver Phucker", she said. I don't even know her, but she was as angry with me as if we were the best of friends. Some "walkers" talk to themselves, some answer themselves, some stop and turn and scream out profundities to no-one, or someone, it's a matter of perspective. It's like some shrink somewhere gave them a prescription for their mental disorder, walk 20 miles and see me in the morning. Charley Bob is the best though. I swear you can see him at 10am, and by 5 he is still slowly making his way back from where he went to. I wonder what makes him turn and go home. Charley Bob is a "walker".
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Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
Charley Bob
Charley Bob is a "walker". He walks the roads and avenues where I live. He doesn't appear to have a job, he just walks.....every day. He use to walk with his zipper down and with flacid ***** in hand proudly display himself to all who drove by, but that embarrassed many and they made him put his security blanket away. Now he just grabs his crotch like the gangstas downtown. Sorry Charley. Every town has a "walker", some have several. You've seen them. They walk the streets, lost in their own little worlds. They look the same as they did 20 years ago. There's the lady with nary a tooth in her head, her ankle length skirt and her Pentecostal hairdo (PHD). They say for 50 bucks she'll let you know why she has no teeth. She's a "working girl walker", but she is still a "walker". Once I was walking downtown, and as I passed her she angrily mumbled something to me, all lips and gums, "Muver Phucker", she said. I don't even know her, but she was as angry with me as if we were the best of friends. Some "walkers" talk to themselves, some answer themselves, some stop and turn and scream out profundities to no-one, or someone, it's a matter of perspective. It's like some shrink somewhere gave them a prescription for their mental disorder, walk 20 miles and see me in the morning. Charley Bob is the best though. I swear you can see him at 10am, and by 5 he is still slowly making his way back from where he went to. I wonder what makes him turn and go home. Charley Bob is a "walker".
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Let me tell you a bit about me A bit that I haven’t told anyone Here goes nothing… I listen to Lady Gaga A lot The smell of whiskey doesn’t burn my nose Rather it smells familiar, similar to maple syrup I love to dance a lot when no one is looking And really provocatively I doubt my ability Yet fear my potential I kissed a boy in first grade But don’t know why I have literally hid this all my life The book “Charley and the Chocolate Factory” changed me And I never like chocolate until this year I am afraid of dogs I grew up with dogs all of my life I really dislike my arms from the elbow up But play off my flannel shirts and hoodies as a fashion statement I bite my nails but not nervously Rather because nail clippers make my nails feel weird I watch **** No one really admits that one but most of us do I love not washing my hair But I hate going out in public that way I love most people but pretend I don’t It’s easier that way I love the feeling of crumbling sheet rock Especially if it is wet I have cussed since I was probably 7… I think I cuss less now than I did in fifth grade I generally admire those farthest from me They are what I’ll never be I could see myself as president But just as easily a stripper I have to try really hard not to cry when I think of my childhood Especially young memories I have tweezed my eye brows And my toes I have worn makeup while no one was home Mainly just to try it I love eating raw sugar Especially chewing it I am pretty sure I was delusional as a child But sometimes I feel like either I wasn’t or I still am I don’t feel like people ever really know me Especially my family There is a chunk of me Please don’t waste it
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Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Chunk of Me
Let me tell you a bit about me A bit that I haven’t told anyone Here goes nothing… I listen to Lady Gaga A lot The smell of whiskey doesn’t burn my nose Rather it smells familiar, similar to maple syrup I love to dance a lot when no one is looking And really provocatively I doubt my ability Yet fear my potential I kissed a boy in first grade But don’t know why I have literally hid this all my life The book “Charley and the Chocolate Factory” changed me And I never like chocolate until this year I am afraid of dogs I grew up with dogs all of my life I really dislike my arms from the elbow up But play off my flannel shirts and hoodies as a fashion statement I bite my nails but not nervously Rather because nail clippers make my nails feel weird I watch **** No one really admits that one but most of us do I love not washing my hair But I hate going out in public that way I love most people but pretend I don’t It’s easier that way I love the feeling of crumbling sheet rock Especially if it is wet I have cussed since I was probably 7… I think I cuss less now than I did in fifth grade I generally admire those farthest from me They are what I’ll never be I could see myself as president But just as easily a stripper I have to try really hard not to cry when I think of my childhood Especially young memories I have tweezed my eye brows And my toes I have worn makeup while no one was home Mainly just to try it I love eating raw sugar Especially chewing it I am pretty sure I was delusional as a child But sometimes I feel like either I wasn’t or I still am I don’t feel like people ever really know me Especially my family There is a chunk of me Please don’t waste it
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The little brown diary lay on Doan's chest its final restingplace. Operation Indiana. Quong Nai province. NVA guerrila. ****** smoke and sticky fire. VC local yokals Dipping pungi sticks for effect. Hochi minh trickle trail.tunnel citties Criscrossing our lines. Bouncing betty saying high To your pecker. The pictures in his dairy makes him. Human Against my will. Hard I just killed their father. Two grown women now with an open question Relentless and tough. Cunning and rugged. The diary looks back at me the blood Splatter gives it a face that weeps And sneers the answer lies Back there. Close the circle
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Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 12:34 AM UTC
Charley CO march 66
***** charley was the name of our high school mascot back in the early 1930's we was a bunch of german kids we loved adolph ****** -- after the war i became a used-car dealer in peoria -- my wife died my kids went to college -- the grand children are "out there" ----somewhere
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Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
good ole days
Expectation We bow to our gods Our demigods Take sides Give credit where we think Credit's due ***** at the other An exercise in hope Despair, disgust An act of rebellion Worship, boredom A little entertainment Perhaps Oh Holy Night is blasting But it's business as usual What did we expect? The Donald's having another Rad hair day Merc is mixing up yet another shot In the arm of the unsuspecting ignorant Monsanto's engineering one more Pernicious stew for dinner World War Three pending At Arm's Dealers Inc A trader goes Kachung A raven drops his doodoo Really What did we expect? Shiny stilettos go clack clack A homeless man shivers in the rain The guy on the bike gives ya the finger Grandma turns on and drops out Can ya blame her? Another heart-breaking day For the broken A little goodwill For the willing Martin Lawrence sneezes And we can't help ourselves Hilarious Charley Sheen loses his knickers In repeat spin Another bad news nugget For the rag-mags What did he expect? The jingle bells jingle It's tinsel time again The gift can go bye bye in the mayhem In this the season of high expectation It's good to have less expectation To worry less, to feel more Share See what happens Expect a miracle or Expect nothing The gift Ah the gift The present Presence That is all What did I expect? 2015 for the present
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Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC
Expectation
If I were a writer I’d actively seek A mild patina A mad mystique I’d write about death As something good I’d sign my name Edgar Allen Atwood If I were a writer There’d be Tom and Huck A great big world That didn’t give a **** Bout the little guy Floating down the main And I’d call myself Charley Dickens Twain If I was a writer I’d have a golden plume I’d write about That day of doom I’d write about Laughing at fear And I’d call myself Mordecai Shakespeare If I was a writer And I had a page I’d write about The good old days ‘Bout what I’d ‘ve done On a day with you And I’d sign my name And I’d sign yours too
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Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
Untitled
^+^ <+!+> ~•~ \ / Two a my very best friends just got married !! MR MANURE ! ....... He married his long time girl friend --- ******** CHARLEY (yep --- that is her name !) It was a grand wedding I gotta say BUT More importantly Ain't nobody knows them don't think a them as special As MAGIC ! What their love is their lives shall be ! It is so great to known them and to to be part of what they shall create ! Hail to thee -- MR MANURE !! & I'll love you forever --- ******** CHARLEY !
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Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
tomorrow rising
Walking with the weekly dregs, of soup cans, tomatoes, & cauliflower, Passing the empty stares, vacant looks and rude remarks, It must be Halloween, look at all the Zombies, please no treats, or tricks, I have joined the masses, My cart has a broken wheel and constantly shifts to the left Pressure to the Right, no back to the Left, The 200lb's of cat litter doesn’t help, Beware of The “Cat Lady”, Yes, I have become The “Cat Man” Just as Crazy, Listening “Sir could you tell me where I can find the lower sodium Gefilte fish”? did I even spell Gefilte right? Aisle 10 next to the Tuna And then it happens! Crash, (I wasn’t looking, I wanted to see if Sorry Charley was really next to Gefilte) right into the luxury cart, parked in my space, I was ready to give my mean, meaningless I’m sorry I’ve become the one person I feared as a child The grumpy old man. I look up and my breathing stop, she captured me with her lovely face I was sent reeling to a distant romantic time & place, centuries ago Did she drift slightly towards me? Or was it just my imagination, Did our eyes hold each other in an embrace? Or was it just my imagination Did she see the poet in my heart?, Or was it just my imagination Was there anything at all?, Or is it my imagination. Either way my heart is closed and youthful energy gone, I gave a soft I’m sorry lowered my eyes and walked away, Scowled a couple of brats, get out of the way, **** cart shifts to the left, I had to look back, I caught a glimpse, of a single teardrop running down her cheek, or was it just my Imagination Firewalker
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Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
My Imagination
Walking with the weekly dregs, of soup cans, tomatoes, & cauliflower, Passing the empty stares, vacant looks and rude remarks, It must be Halloween, look at all the Zombies, please no treats, or tricks, I have joined the masses, My cart has a broken wheel and constantly shifts to the left Pressure to the Right, no back to the Left, The 200lb's of cat litter doesn’t help, Beware of The “Cat Lady”, Yes, I have become The “Cat Man” Just as Crazy, Listening “Sir could you tell me where I can find the lower sodium Gefilte fish”? did I even spell Gefilte right? Aisle 10 next to the Tuna And then it happens! Crash, (I wasn’t looking, I wanted to see if Sorry Charley was really next to Gefilte) right into the luxury cart, parked in my space, I was ready to give my mean, meaningless I’m sorry I’ve become the one person I feared as a child The grumpy old man. I look up and my breathing stop, she captured me with her lovely face I was sent reeling to a distant romantic time & place, centuries ago Did she drift slightly towards me? Or was it just my imagination, Did our eyes hold each other in an embrace? Or was it just my imagination Did she see the poet in my heart?, Or was it just my imagination Was there anything at all?, Or is it my imagination. Either way my heart is closed and youthful energy gone, I gave a soft I’m sorry lowered my eyes and walked away, Scowled a couple of brats, get out of the way, **** cart shifts to the left, I had to look back, I caught a glimpse, of a single teardrop running down her cheek, or was it just my Imagination Firewalker
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AS DEW IN APRYLLE It is as if he has fallen from the end of the 15th century into this present day. A Friday as it happens. And falling from century to century he has lost weight the flesh fallen from him so that Simon Sadd (“Sadd by name…sadd by nature!”) arrives at this particular now nothing but a bag of bones with a skin that no longer fits him. As if…as if he had once been a fat man and Time had thinned him…tamed him. And so it is I bathe him sing songs for him recite for him carols, poems, hymns anything that lets him escape even for a moment this nursing home. My voice carries him back to his Norfolk childhood where his mother bathes him on some forgotten Friday in the once upon a time. Soap stings his eyes then and now. “Moder ‘ud give us such a ding on the lug.” He laughs as if she were there. “Cor blarst me...stop yer blarin! Such a sharmin’!” he scolds himself with her voice. Then she’d hush me with… “I SYNG OF A MAYDEN” “I syng of a mayden þat is makeles, kyng of alle kynges to here sone che ches.” I finish it for him. “My heart alive…how does a yung feller like you…no dat!”    “He came also stylle þer his moder was as dew in aprylle, þat fallyt on þe gras.” “You must have high learnin’ bor!” He, for his part, creates a world of words. I enter entranced into his voice where a ladybird transforms itself into a bishy barneybee! A woodlouse becomes a Charley pig. A jasper is a wasp. “Ahhh look a King Harry by the Lady’s smock!” And when I look the goldfinch has already flown away into the lost years. The Canterberry Bells still…so still “…as dew in Aprylle.” His mind a “bishy bishy barneybee…” “When will yer weddin’ be? he says softly to himself “If it be a ‘marra day..." I towel him dry. “Tairk yer wings an’ floi away!”
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Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 3:28 PM UTC
AS DEW IN APRYLLE
AS DEW IN APRYLLE It is as if he has fallen from the end of the 15th century into this present day. A Friday as it happens. And falling from century to century he has lost weight the flesh fallen from him so that Simon Sadd (“Sadd by name…sadd by nature!”) arrives at this particular now nothing but a bag of bones with a skin that no longer fits him. As if…as if he had once been a fat man and Time had thinned him…tamed him. And so it is I bathe him sing songs for him recite for him carols, poems, hymns anything that lets him escape even for a moment this nursing home. My voice carries him back to his Norfolk childhood where his mother bathes him on some forgotten Friday in the once upon a time. Soap stings his eyes then and now. “Moder ‘ud give us such a ding on the lug.” He laughs as if she were there. “Cor blarst me...stop yer blarin! Such a sharmin’!” he scolds himself with her voice. Then she’d hush me with… “I SYNG OF A MAYDEN” “I syng of a mayden þat is makeles, kyng of alle kynges to here sone che ches.” I finish it for him. “My heart alive…how does a yung feller like you…no dat!”    “He came also stylle þer his moder was as dew in aprylle, þat fallyt on þe gras.” “You must have high learnin’ bor!” He, for his part, creates a world of words. I enter entranced into his voice where a ladybird transforms itself into a bishy barneybee! A woodlouse becomes a Charley pig. A jasper is a wasp. “Ahhh look a King Harry by the Lady’s smock!” And when I look the goldfinch has already flown away into the lost years. The Canterberry Bells still…so still “…as dew in Aprylle.” His mind a “bishy bishy barneybee…” “When will yer weddin’ be? he says softly to himself “If it be a ‘marra day..." I towel him dry. “Tairk yer wings an’ floi away!”
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94
she doesn’t like to be too uncomfortable,no she doesn’t like to be too uncomfortable, no she doesn' t like to be uncomfortable Charley Genever Πλησίασε το καράβι στα ρηχά /μικρό, χαρούμενο Η θάλασσα έγινε όπως τότε/ με Οδυσσέα και του άλλους Ιθάκη, το νησί της προσμονής/της τύφλωσης Το βλέπω το λαμπάκι στην ξύλινη κολώνα/ Μη με ρωτάς αν θέλω να έρθει/ ο ένας και μοναδικός/ Φτάνει/ας μείνουν άχτιστα τα σπίτια Για θιάσους περαστικούς /το νερό λίγο και γλυφό\ Δεν έχω αυτιά για τα τραγούδια σου/ Πες μου για τον κόσμο που αγάπησα/ αν θα ξαναδώ Εκείνη την παντοτινή ώρα/ που μπορείς να θυσιάσεις Τον λόγο/ τον χρόνο/ την ίαση/ την ομορφιά / το πεπρωμένο/ Όταν βρέχει ακούω μόνο ότι πρέπει Και το βουνό καθυστερεί τον ερχομό του ήλιου/ το χειμώνα Όπως τα δένδρα ξεχειμωνιάζουν γέρνοντας/ έτσι και εγώ Βυθίζομαι αντάρα με αντάρα/ το κορμί σε μοναστήρι άσκεπο Δεν φτάνει το φως μέχρι εδώ / ούτε του ήλιου/ ούτε το φεγγάρι Δεν φτάνει μέχρι εδώ /ούτε το όνειρο που έπλασες Δεν φτάνει ούτε η φωνή / που μυρμηγκιάζει στον λαιμό Μίχλα παντού/ και εκεί / το τέλος του δρόμου ©Mαρία Πανούτσου Ανέκδοτη Συλλογή
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
Όποια λέξη και να πλάσεις υπάρχει πριν από σένα Tι έχεις να πεις γι’ αυτό;
she doesn’t like to be too uncomfortable,no she doesn’t like to be too uncomfortable, no she doesn' t like to be uncomfortable Charley Genever Πλησίασε το καράβι στα ρηχά /μικρό, χαρούμενο Η θάλασσα έγινε όπως τότε/ με Οδυσσέα και του άλλους Ιθάκη, το νησί της προσμονής/της τύφλωσης Το βλέπω το λαμπάκι στην ξύλινη κολώνα/ Μη με ρωτάς αν θέλω να έρθει/ ο ένας και μοναδικός/ Φτάνει/ας μείνουν άχτιστα τα σπίτια Για θιάσους περαστικούς /το νερό λίγο και γλυφό\ Δεν έχω αυτιά για τα τραγούδια σου/ Πες μου για τον κόσμο που αγάπησα/ αν θα ξαναδώ Εκείνη την παντοτινή ώρα/ που μπορείς να θυσιάσεις Τον λόγο/ τον χρόνο/ την ίαση/ την ομορφιά / το πεπρωμένο/ Όταν βρέχει ακούω μόνο ότι πρέπει Και το βουνό καθυστερεί τον ερχομό του ήλιου/ το χειμώνα Όπως τα δένδρα ξεχειμωνιάζουν γέρνοντας/ έτσι και εγώ Βυθίζομαι αντάρα με αντάρα/ το κορμί σε μοναστήρι άσκεπο Δεν φτάνει το φως μέχρι εδώ / ούτε του ήλιου/ ούτε το φεγγάρι Δεν φτάνει μέχρι εδώ /ούτε το όνειρο που έπλασες Δεν φτάνει ούτε η φωνή / που μυρμηγκιάζει στον λαιμό Μίχλα παντού/ και εκεί / το τέλος του δρόμου ©Mαρία Πανούτσου Ανέκδοτη Συλλογή
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( ^^^ ) ~< >~ ~< ( ) >~ ( ) ( ) /-----\ it's just ole Charlie Ya know ? The old **** • • In the old garage The antique queer AMERICAN Lies there //// He's weird ! He says he remembers when Something called Children was here /::/ Yeah Ole **** charley is all • • Thru the rain and the hail Of bullets on the street Ole **** Charlie He's still here
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
the mystery
Two ***** Slam Her Slutty Throat As Alt **** Kat Monroe Slobbers & Gags On ***** the newest wannabe superstar hood-rat throat destroyed, Charley Chase throat ****** roughly; Lyla Storm used as **** meat pukes on 2 ***** [new) 2 news guys throat **** Asian **** **** Jeanna Silk... new first timer Jeanna Silks throated; Ashely Luvbug's throat & ***** ****** hard;     **** **** Martina              throat used & degraded;           new puke ***** Sade Sparx                                back to back w/              19 year old ***** Sephora    degraded by *****             *** **** Vannah Sterling creamed after rough **** & throat
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
Two ***** Slam Her Slutty Throat as Alt **** Kat Monroe Slobbers
Charley had deep brown eyes, a beautiful smile and long strands of hair that framed his head. He was once happy, but now he felt sorrow with every emotion. He was trully unhappy. The cold and fearsome grip of death finally got hold of his young soul And he gladly let escape one last living breath.
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 8:13 PM UTC
Charley
( ) # ( ) ) ( •••••• === I'll call you Frank You call me Charley .//. got it ! NOW TRY TO BLEND IN ! ///// human beings in an Alien World //// FER CHRIST'S SAKE ! JUST FIND SOMEBODY AND LOVE THEM ! WITHOUT THE CONSTANT MELODRAMA ! ITS KILLING EVERYONE ! • • ( really ) Don't ya know what's happening ? Don't ya know what's going on ! ( I mean ------- really ? ) /./ So I'll call you Frank You call me Charley Ya got it ! WE UNDERCOVER NOW ! /::/ We undercover now so try to blend in
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Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
seed of dream