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"fielded" poems
Down to the deep south I trudge down through the snow with the pink, pink clouds scattering their effervescence  over spangled, darkened farms and hay bales. Across early orange styles and frosted footprints, into fielded horizons.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC
Hay bales
in the annals of cricket those of greatness get a mention for what they've achieved on the wicket these men stand head and shoulder above the rest their contribution to the game has been written as the best three men have inspired younger players in their homelands they've accomplished much on wickets throughout the many cricket playing lands Steven Waugh(Australian Captain) the master strategist who had a captain's mind replete with brilliant tactics when he took to the pitch the opposition teams would quiver in their collective boots field placement   over deliveries the weather conditions all of these factors actuated in his mind so he could bring an innings of a notable kind Sachin Tendulkar (Indian Batsman) the king of the blade who none can equal in test matches his cuts and cover drives were worthy of an epic prequel his style with the bat twas magic to see he had a prowess of majesty Vivian Richard (West Indies All Rounder) he was never phased he held his nerve with the bat or the ball a tradesman who fielded what ever came at him and in his relaxed style chewed on a piece of gum and demolish the bails with a Caribbean hum cricket's hall of fame that 22 yard pitch where three greatest of the game performances   did of fans ever bewitch
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Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 6:45 PM UTC
Cricket Greats
* “For in your light I dream, as evening takes my hand”* Silently I find my thoughts illumined by your beauty In soft shimmers of dancing silhouettes and patterns allowing breaths to sigh Eyes peer into velvet skies, visions set in motion eternally, find me stranded within the confines of my heart, longing for you Desperate for but a breeze, a movement of shadow, a hope of wishes made upon the early arrival of this crested view Lonely among the maples, towering soldiers lined at fielded boundaries, claiming wisdom as they too reach for your smile “And I yearn the knowledge of your distant view” Do you think, do you feel, do you dream of me from balconies high above hibiscus footpaths, candle lit in passing moments which flicker, enchant Drinking from a porcelain cup caressed by your hand, a touch my body pleads, soft fingers on smooth surroundings, ripples following moonlight sonatas, days of spring blooms and whimsical showers, flooding affections to wash over me, carry me to you This moon, suspended in charcoal heavens upon a beaded blanket of perfect pearls, beckons our dreams in simultaneous fashion “Does your heart share this moon tonight, with me”
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Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
Does your heart share this moon tonight
~ “For in your light I dream, as evening takes my hand” Silently I find my thoughts illumined by your beauty; In soft shimmers of dancing silhouettes and patterns allowing breaths to sigh Eyes peer into velvet skies, visions set in motion eternally, find me stranded within the confines of my heart…longing for you Desperate for but a breeze, a movement of shadow, a hope of wishes made upon the early arrival of this crested view Lonely among the sycamore, towering soldiers lined at fielded boundaries, claiming wisdom as they too reach for your smile “And I yearn the knowledge of your distant view” Do you think, do you feel, do you dream of me from balconies high above hibiscus footpaths, candle lit in passing moments which flicker…enchant Drinking from a porcelain cup caressed by your hand, a touch my body pleads, soft fingers on smooth surroundings, ripples following moonlight sonatas, days of spring blooms and whimsical showers, flooding affections to wash over me… carry me home This moon, suspended in charcoal heavens upon a beaded blanket of perfect pearls, beckons our dreams in simultaneous fashion “Does your heart share this moon tonight…with me”
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Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 8:12 AM UTC
As evening takes my hand
~ Towards the tree line I stare towards the tree line, misshapen and abstract on my eyes Fading in autumn’s chill and leafless emptiness that I still cannot see Oh it is there, screaming at me, waving in the wind, calling in birdsong But my eyes travel more… a distance well beyond any footpath I’ve taken Shelved on the high land vistas now filled with charcoal persuasions So very far, miles on scaled dotted lines, asphalt tearing at my soles, untied laces drag Still I gaze, following my heart into loneliness Reaching for but a hint of a smile, a fix-all for that broken heart, a mosaic sponge to catch your tears…I find none Tossing a stone, it bounces on fielded diaries, words of pain scribbled before even a thought Collections of wishes in a four leaf clover pockets, brushed of life’s unfairness If only I could hold you, safely beneath that frown, gently with the touch of every meaning, building a wall to turn back the sorrow Ivy covered in green temptations breathing of trust and love, lingering at locked doors to secure peace And yet, I can only stare towards the tree line…blind and worthless
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:05 PM UTC
Towards the tree line
I saw a fallen Apple fruit Beneath the shadow of the tree It was all red and cool and fresh And worms have yet to partake its flesh Round the fruit's awaited grave Nothing lies but cool earth; Save The footprints that lead to and from This Apple tree that stood alone This vast expanse of fielded loam Straightaway I knew the answer to this enigma Adam rose from the dead and found that he was hungry He saw the Apple tree, rattled the branches so the fruit would fall And seeing the prints where the snake did crawl Decided that he was not going to eat at all He left; walked around in search of Eve And his son Seth so that they can run around naked and not toil till sundown and relieve themselves from the burden Of being first and last in Eden
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Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 10:46 PM UTC
I saw a fallen apple fruit
~ As evening takes my hand “For in your light I dream, as evening takes my hand” Silently I find my thoughts illumined by your beauty; In soft shimmers of dancing silhouettes and patterns allowing breaths to sigh Eyes peer into velvet skies, visions set in motion eternally, find me stranded within the confines of my heart…longing for you Desperate for but a breeze, a movement of shadow, a hope of wishes made upon the early arrival of this crested view Lonely among the sycamore, towering soldiers lined at fielded boundaries, claiming wisdom as they too reach for your smile “And I yearn the knowledge of your distant view” Do you think, do you feel, do you dream of me from balconies high above hibiscus footpaths, candle lit in passing moments which flicker…enchant Drinking from a porcelain cup caressed by your hand, a touch my body pleads, soft fingers on smooth surroundings, ripples following moonlight sonatas, days of spring blooms and whimsical showers, flooding affections to wash over me… carry me home This moon, suspended in charcoal heavens upon a beaded blanket of perfect pearls, beckons our dreams in simultaneous fashion “Does your heart share this moon tonight…with me”
0
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
As evening takes my hand
Somewhere in a meadow Beneath the rows of fielded corn Between the sky, above a water way Where a million tiny ears are born And listening to the winds of voice To the cackle of crows driving away a hawk Living there, somewhere amongst a meadow seeded Are a thousand, growing, listening stalks All born to stand, but not to walk
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Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC
Standing Corn
Scraping by on pennies added to dimes with 25 cent pieces in the laundry mat- sure to make fine dining at a cost of some old sailor who’s early retirement was all but his own Killed in the heart but @ the mercy of men and fielded in newspapers swept under the cold damp dank swell of emotion- and (I) enjoi the cafe immensely Candles burned and tuna can saliva made for glossed over window sills
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Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
Candles burned and tuna can saliva made for glossed over window sills
Germs crawling over your bodies, your tack hammers blemished by petrified daisies that told stories to their children about crazy ancestors whom outlived what was expected.
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Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 2:58 AM UTC
A fielded box
Don’t expect evil men to do good things, They are sick and twisted and addicted To the bastardy they do. It’s up to you. You must block them and defrock them; Throw them out of your political party Give a hardy heave ** so they know, Because any word but ‘no’ means yes, And to them even no can mean okay If their party pays enough money today So they can say whatever they want They’ll flaunt lies as the people’s choice Unless you give voice to their crime. They will repeat it each and every time. Ride them out of town on a rail if need be, Their seedy behavior will justify it. They will deny it in face of film footage. The usage of many lies they will coin Showing those who are paying attention That any mention of truth or honesty Will get instantly reversed and wielded, Fielded like a pop up ball, by lawyers And spin doctors on their political team To make it seem like the good guys Are not as wise as the black hats And that will be that, if you don’t stop them. So beat them, defeat them; turn it around! Those clowns can only lie for so long If you don’t go along and okay their crap Then slap them into jail when they cheat. Knock them off their feet, depose them Compose the right paperwork to reverse The worse things they do and then more; Even the score by sending them home. Comb the laws they wrote for corruption And the interruption of human rights. Fight fire with fire. If they holler, you shout And leave them out of the next round Of sound logic because they have none.
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
REPULSICAN RAP
Don’t expect evil men to do good things, They are sick and twisted and addicted To the bastardy they do. It’s up to you. You must block them and defrock them; Throw them out of your political party Give a hardy heave ** so they know, Because any word but ‘no’ means yes, And to them even no can mean okay If their party pays enough money today So they can say whatever they want They’ll flaunt lies as the people’s choice Unless you give voice to their crime. They will repeat it each and every time. Ride them out of town on a rail if need be, Their seedy behavior will justify it. They will deny it in face of film footage. The usage of many lies they will coin Showing those who are paying attention That any mention of truth or honesty Will get instantly reversed and wielded, Fielded like a pop up ball, by lawyers And spin doctors on their political team To make it seem like the good guys Are not as wise as the black hats And that will be that, if you don’t stop them. So beat them, defeat them; turn it around! Those clowns can only lie for so long If you don’t go along and okay their crap Then slap them into jail when they cheat. Knock them off their feet, depose them Compose the right paperwork to reverse The worse things they do and then more; Even the score by sending them home. Comb the laws they wrote for corruption And the interruption of human rights. Fight fire with fire. If they holler, you shout And leave them out of the next round Of sound logic because they have none.
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~ I cast my eyes towards the sun, beyond the darkened fence, the fielded midnight thoughts, watching, through clouded images, knowing eventually I will witness the birth of a new day I reach with my smile in a curved line seeking a destiny still unknown but written in words of future phrases, which will come to pass…on multi-colored wings of affection I send my heart on waves of scented mist, collected from the corners of my world, flowing free from silent words and favored gestures of desire’s endless intentions I hand my love to nature, freely, willingly… so that it may be delivered amidst blooming jasmine and truer promises…to you, before another dawn’s light finds your beauty and you awake I cast my eyes towards the sun…yet I seek not its light, nor its warmth…for all I seek is you
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May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 7:41 AM UTC
I seek not its light
~ I cast my eyes towards the sun, beyond the darkened fence, the fielded midnight thoughts, watching, through clouded images, knowing eventually I will witness the birth of a new day I reach with my smile in a curved line seeking a destiny still unknown but written in verses of future phrases, which will come to pass…in multi-colored inks of affection I send my heart on waves of scented mist, collected from the corners of my world, flowing free from silent words and favored gestures of desire’s endless intentions I hand my love to nature, freely, willingly… so that it may be delivered amidst blooming jasmine and truer promises…to you, before another dawn’s light finds your beauty and you awake I cast my eyes towards the sun…yet I seek not its light, nor its warmth…for all I seek is you
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
I seek not its light
Bee line in the beach lane on to a resourceful resort Of styles, shorts and sorts in search of freedom from enforced routine Bales of barren clouds Mushroomed the sky line Set a merry mood in motion of the touting tots n' lots The band of souls pitched hand in hand on sand Gay was the day at bay All and sundry fielded the day Bask and bath Rock and roll Fun and frolic Wind and weather Hoot and beat Hip hip hurray soaked in the sea of ecstasy Slim shut swim suit hemming here and there Bikini blonde bouncing Spicy curves and colors pushed up passions Of the passers by Sand sipping sea Sea slipping sand Land and sea lip to lip A great fun to run around
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:13 PM UTC
Over to a beach
we used to flow like the river but now we're cold as ice we used to feed on the fruits of romance now we have dry pastures fielded with ignorance we used to check each other coast to coast now we barely see eye to eye love was blind but gained sight and it saw on the other side of loneliness strides I used to write and you would ride ride my words like a pony of beautiful thoughts we used to send each other smiley faces and sweet nothings now we're the image of people who used to know each other but just retire their memories on some couples' anthology I write poetry to fit the gaps left by emotionless apologies Were you sorry to leave or were you sore for being a thief? the thief of my heart, a pioneer of love and its jeers I would cry and cry a river of tears but that doesn't shake off the forthcoming fears I thought we would last years and years but now all we have is a map of memories and ambitions lost in wonderland We used to be the superheroes of love and affection, now we're stripped off all its comic books It was high and a frivolity when you shook me with your spark Now I throw darts hoping it didn't leave too deep a mark a game I play myself, to weigh how much you meant to me it was quite a quilt our time together, a ballad crocheted by picturesque tapestries oh my we used to be, now seeing you is a trivial novelty for I do not know the person you've become I hope your new love does not come out undone I will be waiting for my own new love, excreting the little passions that still remain in the coffers of my soul We used to be but now there is no more you and me just old pictures of fallen and abandoned leaves may memory pick them up and blow them into the seasons that are the seams, the seams of the strings of time.
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May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
We used to Be
we used to flow like the river but now we're cold as ice we used to feed on the fruits of romance now we have dry pastures fielded with ignorance we used to check each other coast to coast now we barely see eye to eye love was blind but gained sight and it saw on the other side of loneliness strides I used to write and you would ride ride my words like a pony of beautiful thoughts we used to send each other smiley faces and sweet nothings now we're the image of people who used to know each other but just retire their memories on some couples' anthology I write poetry to fit the gaps left by emotionless apologies Were you sorry to leave or were you sore for being a thief? the thief of my heart, a pioneer of love and its jeers I would cry and cry a river of tears but that doesn't shake off the forthcoming fears I thought we would last years and years but now all we have is a map of memories and ambitions lost in wonderland We used to be the superheroes of love and affection, now we're stripped off all its comic books It was high and a frivolity when you shook me with your spark Now I throw darts hoping it didn't leave too deep a mark a game I play myself, to weigh how much you meant to me it was quite a quilt our time together, a ballad crocheted by picturesque tapestries oh my we used to be, now seeing you is a trivial novelty for I do not know the person you've become I hope your new love does not come out undone I will be waiting for my own new love, excreting the little passions that still remain in the coffers of my soul We used to be but now there is no more you and me just old pictures of fallen and abandoned leaves may memory pick them up and blow them into the seasons that are the seams, the seams of the strings of time.
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You ever felt Your other half The person so rare Made only for you Their energy The exact compliment Their words Already set in stone Their wheat Fielded earlier When you and I First began This was many Many meetings Before and after You never forget Your other half
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Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 9:48 AM UTC
Other half
Diamond pitched dark to black The milky way is never exact Paper smiles and fielded dreams The stars will need the moon it seems Cap shifted left to block the ray Heat hits the hand all the same One, two, and three make home All the Angels feel alone The Devil sits upon the mound Shoulder sore from pleasing the crowd Nine a measure of lined up time Not long enough when the score unties.
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
The score
Bee line in the beach lane on to a resourceful resort Of styles, shorts and sorts in search of freedom from enforced routine Bales of barren clouds Mushroomed the sky line Set a merry mood in motion of the touting tots n' lots The band of souls pitched hand in hand on sand Gay was the day at bay All and sundry fielded the day Bask and bath Rock and roll Fun and frolic Wind and weather Hoot and beat Hip hip hurray soaked in the sea of ecstasy Slim shut swim suit hemming here and there Bikini blonde bouncing Spicy curves and colors pushed up passions Of the passers by Sand sipping sea Sea slipping sand Land and sea lip to lip A great fun to run around
0
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 7:41 AM UTC
Over to a beach
Bee line in the beach lane on to a resourceful resort Of styles, shorts and sorts in search of freedom from enforced routine Bales of barren clouds Mushroomed the sky line Set a merry mood in motion of the touting tots n' lots The band of souls pitched hand in hand on sand Gay was the day at bay All and sundry fielded the day Bask and bath Rock and roll Fun and frolic Wind and weather Hoot and beat Hip hip hurray soaked in the sea of ecstasy Slim shut swim suit hemming here and there Bikini blonde bouncing Spicy curves and colors pushed up passions Of the passers by Sand sipping sea Sea slipping sand Land and sea lip to lip A great fun to run around
0
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
Over to a beach
Bee line in the beach lane on to a resourceful resort Of styles, shorts and sorts in search of freedom from enforced routine Bales of barren clouds Mushroomed the sky line Set a merry mood in motion of the touting tots n' lots The band of souls pitched hand in hand on sand Gay was the day at bay All and sundry fielded the day Bask and bath Rock and roll Fun and frolic Wind and weather Hoot and beat Hip hip hurray soaked in the sea of ecstasy Slim shut swim suit hemming here and there Bikini blonde bouncing Spicy curves and colors pushed up passions Of the passers by Sand sipping sea Sea slipping sand Land and sea lip to lip A great fun to run around
0
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Over to a beach
Bee line in the beach lane on to a resourceful resort Of styles, shorts and sorts in search of freedom from enforced routine Bales of barren clouds Mushroomed the sky line Set a merry mood in motion of the touting tots n' lots The band of souls pitched hand in hand on sand Gay was the day at bay All and sundry fielded the day Bask and bath Rock and roll Fun and frolic Wind and weather Hoot and beat Hip hip hurray soaked in the sea of ecstasy Slim shut swim suit hemming here and there Bikini blonde bouncing Spicy curves and colors pushed up passions Of the passers by Sand sipping sea Sea slipping sand Land and sea lip to lip A great fun to run around
0
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
Over to a beach
They’d signed on for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, Though they’d never dreamed that poor and sick Would arrive with such ferocity, Such vengeance, such utter malice. Difficult to say how they found their way To this particular section of down: Too little of a taste for the three R’s, too much for two-buck chuck, The whys, wherefores, and timelines not mattering much When you’re falling ass-over-teacup Jack-and-Jill style down life’s hill. They’d tumbled far enough to be holed up In the front room of a structure approximating a house Down on Elizabeth Street, Looking like a Home Sweet Home a six-year old might draw, Stairs, doorways, and window casings All uneven and madly impressionist, The thing not particularly successful at being air or water-tight (If the folks from animal welfare found a dog in the place, They’d be likely to go in and get it somewhere safe.) They are huddled under what sheets and afghans The nuns from Saint Rose were able to cobble together for them And so they lay in ancient and unsteady sofa-like objects, All but unable to move (Though if he groans and thrashes enough to bare arms and legs, She will summon something from somewhere And painfully shuffle over to him To retrieve and re-arrange his coverings) Nowhere to go, no one to go see or to come see them, Little left to do but wait for God (*Closer to Jordan than the Hudson, Far as rivers go*, he is wont to say) To belatedly disburse some mercy, divine or otherwise, Then to be pine-boxed and potter’s-fielded. They have never see fit to ask any why-thems: Little time for such luxuries, perhaps, Or maybe the questions and answers simply more of a burden Than the already over-burdened can bear, Or maybe, as she said to one of the nuns Who comes now and then to do what little they can, *Lord reveals things to us in a whisper, And an angry stomach and shiverin’ bones Conspire to make such a woeful noise*.
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Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
the couple at the bottom of the world
They’d signed on for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, Though they’d never dreamed that poor and sick Would arrive with such ferocity, Such vengeance, such utter malice. Difficult to say how they found their way To this particular section of down: Too little of a taste for the three R’s, too much for two-buck chuck, The whys, wherefores, and timelines not mattering much When you’re falling ass-over-teacup Jack-and-Jill style down life’s hill. They’d tumbled far enough to be holed up In the front room of a structure approximating a house Down on Elizabeth Street, Looking like a Home Sweet Home a six-year old might draw, Stairs, doorways, and window casings All uneven and madly impressionist, The thing not particularly successful at being air or water-tight (If the folks from animal welfare found a dog in the place, They’d be likely to go in and get it somewhere safe.) They are huddled under what sheets and afghans The nuns from Saint Rose were able to cobble together for them And so they lay in ancient and unsteady sofa-like objects, All but unable to move (Though if he groans and thrashes enough to bare arms and legs, She will summon something from somewhere And painfully shuffle over to him To retrieve and re-arrange his coverings) Nowhere to go, no one to go see or to come see them, Little left to do but wait for God (*Closer to Jordan than the Hudson, Far as rivers go*, he is wont to say) To belatedly disburse some mercy, divine or otherwise, Then to be pine-boxed and potter’s-fielded. They have never see fit to ask any why-thems: Little time for such luxuries, perhaps, Or maybe the questions and answers simply more of a burden Than the already over-burdened can bear, Or maybe, as she said to one of the nuns Who comes now and then to do what little they can, *Lord reveals things to us in a whisper, And an angry stomach and shiverin’ bones Conspire to make such a woeful noise*.
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Terminator **** Gat caused tragedy, what a gat tastrophy. Dangerous suspect, got to escape before I end up in quarantine. Especially with Rats at my back, who are packing heat and coming after me. But I ain’t fazed because I’m blazed and sipping lean. Ya want the bad guy? Then come after me? Tony Montana **** Leave ya scarfaced when ya mess with me. Say hello to my little friend, then hasta lavesta baby! Boom! Drop down a flight of stairs and ended up in the living room. Eating Oreos with some blue milk, dipping them in one by one with my purple spoon. Feeding my program like I’m Ed boon. Ya might not understand now but you will soon. For quarrels are like an art of war, sun tzu! Pass me some tissue paper, ha chu! Bless you! Thank you! Man manners mean even monsters know morals matter. For in this day and age finding decent human beings is like trying to find dark matter. Just remember boy! All lives matter. And it shouldn’t matter what factors have become detractors. It’s your responsibility to overcome these trivial matters! Or stay fielded rooted in foolishness until your run over by your own tractor. For anger and revenge will only leave you the real loser. So, forgive and move forward. Look towards a safer future by becoming the hero you need to be like John Connor. I know it’s hard but you gotta take the reigns like a Roman and make this your yard! Also remember that everyone is scarred and have faced different but also difficult junkyards. You just gotta take risks to reap rewards. So, Set goals toward your dreams and if you try I believe that your dream can become secured.
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 9:41 PM UTC
Terminator ****
Terminator **** Gat caused tragedy, what a gat tastrophy. Dangerous suspect, got to escape before I end up in quarantine. Especially with Rats at my back, who are packing heat and coming after me. But I ain’t fazed because I’m blazed and sipping lean. Ya want the bad guy? Then come after me? Tony Montana **** Leave ya scarfaced when ya mess with me. Say hello to my little friend, then hasta lavesta baby! Boom! Drop down a flight of stairs and ended up in the living room. Eating Oreos with some blue milk, dipping them in one by one with my purple spoon. Feeding my program like I’m Ed boon. Ya might not understand now but you will soon. For quarrels are like an art of war, sun tzu! Pass me some tissue paper, ha chu! Bless you! Thank you! Man manners mean even monsters know morals matter. For in this day and age finding decent human beings is like trying to find dark matter. Just remember boy! All lives matter. And it shouldn’t matter what factors have become detractors. It’s your responsibility to overcome these trivial matters! Or stay fielded rooted in foolishness until your run over by your own tractor. For anger and revenge will only leave you the real loser. So, forgive and move forward. Look towards a safer future by becoming the hero you need to be like John Connor. I know it’s hard but you gotta take the reigns like a Roman and make this your yard! Also remember that everyone is scarred and have faced different but also difficult junkyards. You just gotta take risks to reap rewards. So, Set goals toward your dreams and if you try I believe that your dream can become secured.
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