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"ction" poems
Jane was given a year to live Febricity, nausea and cancer would assist her through that year Marching headfirst into this battle Apropos of nothing, she packed up and left Maybe she broke down, maybe she got up Junction of her heart and mind, she was preparing to die whilst simultaneously starting to live Julian Alps, Tianzi Mountains, Santorini, Petra, Machu Picchu, she saw them all Augmented her mind Separated her ignorance October fell and she was hospitalized, the hospital was now her personal party with constant visitors Novice to cancer no more, now she was the leader Decease couldn’t stop her, she was alive
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 2:37 AM UTC
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Hip     ster Dance Your Hipst                    er      Dance. Sway ever so     slight       ly To the Dysfun            ction                 al           Rhythm Lost In Some Sole                               mn trance         Cue The   Solo      &    a slight nod of the                   h e a d let them know that your hav          ing a goo   d   time hip            ster,      hipster you amaze me           in your mis    an     thropic           stillness
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Jun 9, 2011
Jun 9, 2011 at 3:05 PM UTC
Momma, Don't Ever Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Hipsters
.                                                 It can                          be  observed                       that men use var                     ious   methods   in                       pursuing their o                       wn personal  obj                       e ctives,  t h at  is                       glory and r iches                       One man proceed                       s with circums pe                       ction, another Im                       petu ousity ; o n e                       uses violence, a n                       other stratagem ;                       one man goes a b                       out things patient                       ly , another d o es             the opposite ;        and yet every          one , for all  this     diversity of method     , can reach his ob      jective .  It can  a ls o      be observed  that     the two circumspect        men, one willach    ieve his end,  the               o t h e r                      n o t.
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Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
Machiavellian ****
.                                                 It can                          be  observed                       that men use var                     ious   methods   in                       pursuing their o                       wn personal  obj                       e ctives,  t h at  is                       glory and r iches                       One man proceed                       s with circums pe                       ction, another Im                       petu ousity ; o n e                       uses violence, a n                       other stratagem ;                       one man goes a b                       out things patient                       ly , another d o es             the opposite ;        and yet every          one , for all  this     diversity of method     , can reach his ob      jective .  It can  a ls o      be observed  that     the two circumspect        men, one willach    ieve his end,  the               o t h e r                      n o t.
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p  o  p  ! goes the eyes   of a goddess when   in her hand laid    the mirror. no    such reflection she    had looked at, like a still before her — where  is the pearl complex- ion she'd smooth- ened out f     o     r herself  ? where  is the   eyes she   had s   e   e  n herself th rough for the    past century  ? "what is t   h  i  s malfun- ction ? " s  h  e asked. "it  is  the i m a g e of  souls, d  e  a  r goddess. it  shows n  o  n  e but    the t r u t h," said   the y o u n g daedalus. the   dear goddess laughed. a mere m o r t a l, pondered the immo- rtal,    who d  a  r  e  s tell        me who i am ? she  took  an other     look at   her   own i   m   a   g   e — the   too   pale skin   and   it's monotonous effect   on   her bland         face — and           then, she     smashed the       imagery of      her    own s                            l.    o          u
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Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
the imagery of souls
MAL...FUN...CTION! Her voice was all italics. Her worlds in bold and in BLOCK CAPITALS. "Shhhhhhhh!" I said in lower case. "Shhhhhhhh!" I said agian reducing my voice to a size 9 font. "You say you saw a head..." I said "...sticking out of a brick wall!" She just nodded her head. Too scared of words. And - sure enough ( God bless her little cotton socks ) there was a head sticking out of a brick wall. "Well..!" I said "...well!" to steady my nerve. I thought at first it was only a ghost a trainee ghost not sure as yet of the mechanics of the process of passing through brick walls. But the explication was not as commonplace as all that. "hElP mE. . .hElP mE!" the head said in a Capt. Kirik-ish kind of way. For yea - it was he. I thought now was a bad time to ask for his autograph. "Tele..." the head said. "Yes, yes old chap?" I said. "...porter!" the head said. "Ahh you see..." I said to her. "There's always a logical explanation ...the teleporter broke down just as he was being beamed down through this here brick wall>" "Oh...is that all?" she said finding her voice again and not too shy to use it. And so we continued along down to the local Bingo Hall. Never was one for all that Star Trek stuff.
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
MAL...FUN...CTION!