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"housing" poems
Birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance black, blue, brown their cute colours short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight wings and flight memorable all in hurry to have fate chirp in low high sound, fresh mood they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the start each one looking for some good bit sip enough to quench thirst no one waiting, for its turn a cute gay bird, find it first while the lyrics touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song making a norm; fresh my mood melodious their sweet song ripe fruit there serve passer-by there were trees to grant a shade there was rule 'No Restriction' beauty of leaves not yet fade pan was waiting to serve them one sharp sip hurry to fly child fell down while knocked at rock help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry sound dangerous, **** of earth crackling, falling, housing, wall help, no rescue love or hate site was changed in front of all no charm, fame, concert at all there was no work, club or shop speech for help was useless try any search team, rescue flop winking eyes now teary one no-one could found there a bun there no signs of living one no care there, no deal, no done birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance chirp, chirp sad song low high sound they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the star each one looking for some good bit sip enough, quench the thirst no one waiting, for its turn cute bird could not find it first while the lyrics, touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song making a norm, my sad mood melodious, fair sad song no fruit there for passer-by no trees there to grant a shade they were buried, there, somewhere no green leaves at risk of fade all the owners slept and pressed sound dangerous lifeless rock ruined everywhere tragic song mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock no help, care there, love or hate there was silence as no play no pan waiting there at all birds could find a broken tray you reveal it then I know my pangs are more than a sea there is link between the two soul and body, You and me
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 7:59 PM UTC
BY THE SUDDEN CRASHED HOUSES
Birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance black, blue, brown their cute colours short, long, slim, heavy, lightweight wings and flight memorable all in hurry to have fate chirp in low high sound, fresh mood they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the start each one looking for some good bit sip enough to quench thirst no one waiting, for its turn a cute gay bird, find it first while the lyrics touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their tweet, song making a norm; fresh my mood melodious their sweet song ripe fruit there serve passer-by there were trees to grant a shade there was rule 'No Restriction' beauty of leaves not yet fade pan was waiting to serve them one sharp sip hurry to fly child fell down while knocked at rock help! Help! Shoutinnocent cry sound dangerous, **** of earth crackling, falling, housing, wall help, no rescue love or hate site was changed in front of all no charm, fame, concert at all there was no work, club or shop speech for help was useless try any search team, rescue flop winking eyes now teary one no-one could found there a bun there no signs of living one no care there, no deal, no done birds ate there all eatables flapping their wings as a dance trimming and preen of the wings jump here there, losing no chance chirp, chirp sad song low high sound they were neat, beautiful smart search everywhere want of food giving an end, at the star each one looking for some good bit sip enough, quench the thirst no one waiting, for its turn cute bird could not find it first while the lyrics, touch my soul chirp, chirp, chirp was their sad song making a norm, my sad mood melodious, fair sad song no fruit there for passer-by no trees there to grant a shade they were buried, there, somewhere no green leaves at risk of fade all the owners slept and pressed sound dangerous lifeless rock ruined everywhere tragic song mud, stone, sand, all-cause of shock no help, care there, love or hate there was silence as no play no pan waiting there at all birds could find a broken tray you reveal it then I know my pangs are more than a sea there is link between the two soul and body, You and me
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72
A populace filled with totalitarian tranquility The supposition that the world is in a harmonic homeostasis Blissful ignorance that leads to careless calamity Amid the uproar of the most populated of places Therein lies the seed of humanity’s deceptive destruction A solitary host housing a virulent virus Infectious disease that proceeds crisis and corruption Hope only stands with the powerful and pious Prognosis describes communicable cannibalism Rabid outbursts show signs of voracious violence The harrowing pandemic leads to ceaseless cataclysm Cities and towns suspended in systemic silence Habitations riddled with gratuitous gore Hope fades in the wake of the crimson carnage The pestilent hoard feeds to a glutton’s galore The Author of humanity publishes the final page The closing verse rains down a rapturous recompense The high cost of a dense population paid at humanity’s existential expense
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Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
Affliction’s Assimilation
She stares out the window each day Before the sun sets away Drinking tea and wondering What could other people be doing? There was nothing to see Just buildings And hanging clothing On other people's housing The wind blows Her eyes blur She sips tea Her mind leaves The images of yesterday comes The emotions of today emerges In her mind she hums And with the wind she surges No one could really understand why This girl would want to fly All her thoughts are recurring But only the window knows what she's thinking.
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 7:37 AM UTC
Window
Cold. I was waiting but I’ve changed my mind. The whole world fell away, left just me/us and it felt OK. All the stuff I thought mattered; age-gap, gossip, housing, education- when it was just me/us- it didn’t. (she’s awake) For a moment we were everything. It was beautiful. I love me/us- even with complications pushing into my mind, cramming themselves around me/us euphoria- I’m not making an Angel today. Going home. (what’s she doing?) Jelly legs aren’t working, feel hot and slippery. She’s holding me down. (Sshh- you’re fine, just a bit woozy) I don’t believe in Angels. Crap. (it’s the anaesthetic, makes them cry)
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Oct 13, 2011
Oct 13, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
re-entry
Devil's downstairs at the neighbors lil' hole in the wall. We're just sitting ducks in a government funded housing pond. & I'm too afraid to sleep. In my own slum. Thank you, for ruining my life.
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Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
Thank you, for ruining my life.
By: Cedric McClester It’s, “affordable housing,” That we can’t afford Our cries in vain Go largely ignored So please don’t ask us Where the grapes of wrath are stored If you don’t want us To respond untoward They show us an unaffordable AMI For people who barely Are just getting by So to call it affordable Is a bold face lie That try though they may They cannot deny We’re brought together To plan and plot Our community’s future Are we not But they won’t admit To what’s already in place Like a zoning change What a disgrace Ultimately we’re told our future’s Up to us And if we believe them As they say we must They seek our ideas Like they really matter But I know all that is Is just chitter chatter Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
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Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
“AFFORDABLE HOUSING”
My friend and I talk about it Neighborhood got decimated this year One after another the corners of community are gone We touch the elder memories as one might touch a head in blessing as loved ones pass We linger longest over John Found dead after ten hot days by other-worldly hazmat crew flanked by cruisers with their special, yellow truck and zipper bags ...found 'im glasses folded neatly on the night stand in his jammies all tucked into bed No one thought it strange that strange young guy would die already decomposing in his head Lost among his personal effects his fleet of rusting cars and half-assed projects Deck tacked to garage his herds of “pets” Easy to pretend he wasn't really there between jail stints or some imagined threat or theft of crap haunted by the shadows of his persecutors caught in motion lights and cameras' blinding evidence of jungle-jumble and malfunctioning alarms going off in the wind Everyone's out to get his stuff We could dismiss him-- mostly sorta ...except for times he mowed his grass at night or hand-built “the lunatic tower” just for mom from scavenged scraps and hammered hours power-sawed through the housing codes and horror of the neighbors... ...Such a special spectacle... ******* crazy-- John! He was enough for one day at a time like when he flung that threatening bolder on bilco doors for percussive effect "Get off my fuckin' property!” (not using his “inside voice") “Next time, that'll be your head!! He announces his intent to not get mad, behave himself to call the cops on me instead Fake-dialing While his mother screams in dread “John is off his meds!” My phone is set to speed dial 911 ____ “How did we miss this? How did we not miss him those quiet days?” How we miss him now How quiet
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
Every Neighborhood Has One
My friend and I talk about it Neighborhood got decimated this year One after another the corners of community are gone We touch the elder memories as one might touch a head in blessing as loved ones pass We linger longest over John Found dead after ten hot days by other-worldly hazmat crew flanked by cruisers with their special, yellow truck and zipper bags ...found 'im glasses folded neatly on the night stand in his jammies all tucked into bed No one thought it strange that strange young guy would die already decomposing in his head Lost among his personal effects his fleet of rusting cars and half-assed projects Deck tacked to garage his herds of “pets” Easy to pretend he wasn't really there between jail stints or some imagined threat or theft of crap haunted by the shadows of his persecutors caught in motion lights and cameras' blinding evidence of jungle-jumble and malfunctioning alarms going off in the wind Everyone's out to get his stuff We could dismiss him-- mostly sorta ...except for times he mowed his grass at night or hand-built “the lunatic tower” just for mom from scavenged scraps and hammered hours power-sawed through the housing codes and horror of the neighbors... ...Such a special spectacle... ******* crazy-- John! He was enough for one day at a time like when he flung that threatening bolder on bilco doors for percussive effect "Get off my fuckin' property!” (not using his “inside voice") “Next time, that'll be your head!! He announces his intent to not get mad, behave himself to call the cops on me instead Fake-dialing While his mother screams in dread “John is off his meds!” My phone is set to speed dial 911 ____ “How did we miss this? How did we not miss him those quiet days?” How we miss him now How quiet
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70
a lupine prayer to bear and bull cry wolf cry wolf cry wolf now look into his eyes until you think like I do and then take a desperate man for his last penny (finance options available) go long on a cheeky Nando's followed by no inflation constant expansion short the small print and profit from the fight against pollution by investing in the future but as returns don't come cheap diversify and purify the self the Ganges is so polluted it has gall bladder cancer the main economic indicators are telling us that inflation is set to jump, while British statisticians are optimistic that the housing ladder will continue to defy gravity as it is an export barometer with a blue eyed quant inside crying wolf crying wolf cry wolf
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 3:05 AM UTC
In it for the money
Black soot Shrivelled up Cadbury wrapper eyes You were not my antidote You turned a balanced happy friendly spice 'n' all things nice girl into a hermit with bloodied fingers, a self-destructive narcissist (or did you just coax her out of her shell) well I quit on you the ****** is the **** spoon your prose the lighter your hips the dealer my heart the coffin. I cried I cry I will cry Over your constellation swamps Housing crocodiles Water-borne diseases and piranhas I am naive; I think my youth protects me. My youth enslaves me. Binds me in paper chains.
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Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 7:00 PM UTC
Confrontation
the homeless are ******** in the streets, well some of them are the homeless have been ******** in the streets a lot lately when they are not getting scatological on the streets of seattle they are conjuring the other images of themselves, because there is always so much more to this story as they sit on the sidewalk and/or in entrances of shops, restaurants, and other commercial establishments throwing empty beer cans in the street at the people walking past they say seattle is going to be the next san francisco because that is what tech is, nothing new forgotten already done ideas redone same price tags same coast line same **** in the streets they must have thought something better was here, waiting for them when they rode into town from other towns housing, more drugs, a new life in these streets that they **** in not sure what they heard their tents under the over pass their trash upon the hill overlooking the highway their tents always have a highway view their trash too i should be that afraid of my own life of what tomorrow will be oversharing in a voice that is not my own miss jean brodie in **** city style
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Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 5:16 AM UTC
Joan Armatrading Songs Called Down To Zero
The old order changeth, yielding place to new -Tennyson, Idylls of the King Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp In spasms of existential death; they pass At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there If you vote they give you a sticker The ephemeral Constitution changed Like sweaty skivvies by each president Law libraries catalogued for pulp By obedient functionaries in tees If you vote they give you a sticker The faithful escorted out of the cathedral By a bored security guard on overtime The altar linens for sale at Goodwill And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V. If you vote they give you a sticker Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds And the others cheer only for the Blues As the reincarnation of Jack Chick Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps If you vote they give you a sticker Election placards on abandoned buildings Promise again prosperity for all The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz Private Academy of the Dance and Math If you vote they give you a sticker An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather If you vote they give you a sticker And blessed be the Holy AR-15 God gave to His People to defend themselves Here in the freest country in the world Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence If you vote they give you a sticker While fleets of luxury presidential jets Arc high over our public housing projects Reminding us of our prosperity Here in the richest country in the world If you vote they give you a sticker And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right But them other Jews they just ain’t no good Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither And don’t you get me started on them Baptists (We seem to have been otherwise engaged) “The old order changeth, yielding place to new” – (But neither cares at all for me or you) But if you vote they give you a sticker
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Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Election Day: Executive Inaction with Moderate Prejudice in Fits of Absent-Mindedness
The old order changeth, yielding place to new -Tennyson, Idylls of the King Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp In spasms of existential death; they pass At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there If you vote they give you a sticker The ephemeral Constitution changed Like sweaty skivvies by each president Law libraries catalogued for pulp By obedient functionaries in tees If you vote they give you a sticker The faithful escorted out of the cathedral By a bored security guard on overtime The altar linens for sale at Goodwill And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V. If you vote they give you a sticker Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds And the others cheer only for the Blues As the reincarnation of Jack Chick Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps If you vote they give you a sticker Election placards on abandoned buildings Promise again prosperity for all The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz Private Academy of the Dance and Math If you vote they give you a sticker An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather If you vote they give you a sticker And blessed be the Holy AR-15 God gave to His People to defend themselves Here in the freest country in the world Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence If you vote they give you a sticker While fleets of luxury presidential jets Arc high over our public housing projects Reminding us of our prosperity Here in the richest country in the world If you vote they give you a sticker And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right But them other Jews they just ain’t no good Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither And don’t you get me started on them Baptists (We seem to have been otherwise engaged) “The old order changeth, yielding place to new” – (But neither cares at all for me or you) But if you vote they give you a sticker
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49
Housing thoughts that so often incite a sick sort of darkness, that may cause one to shy away so all these thoughts are for you that I write so you can walk amongst my dreams and view the decay feeling the need for you to see every corner of my mind and were you to decide to turn and run far from me you can before it is too late, lest to my darkness be confined this allows the ability to avoid all this that is my insanity riddled with debris There is of course a light within my darkness as well for every Yin there is a Yang or so I hear therefore on darkness I will not always dwell hopefully this can alleviate any fear and reassure that there also lies hope and love within my soul a lot of which by you is often times inspired basking in so much light, releasing me from despair's control it is these things about you I have always admired So please, take a stroll down the many paths my mind holds I will hope they are not too overwhelming as they begin to unfold
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Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
Step Inside My Mind
From whips and chains To whips and chains, Earned by pigmentation. Suffered through tribulation Caused by the need for ********** Lead to the names of elders confusion The game of deception Lead to liberation. A work for works sake, Where all currency we make Is born for the government to take. A cycle of earnings and yearnings Where earnings go to learnings, And learnings go to younglings, Younglings go to work, And from work they live to buy things And from these things come the taxings Of all things to come. With housing comes heating where water is needed. These things to provide for the one to be marrying, And a child she may be carrying which leads to more taxing, And when this child grows and they don't need your waxing So begins your pension and time for relaxing. Living without fear of receiving the axing, And your wrinkles now potent define all your moods You may wish you had done what little other men could, Stand tall where some other pioneer may have once stood, But instead around the stump no room for a branch, Locked in by the cycle Left to pedal with no brakes.
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 5:35 AM UTC
ROOTS
I don't understand Thanksgiving I don't understand it at all Instead of giving thanks for things We sit and watch football Americans give thanks each year For the bounties in their life Like freedom, food and housing A loving family, little strife But, in Canada, it's different We give thanks, slightly the same But, ours is a holiday from politicians It's not held the day we came We watch football, and eat turkey Gorge ourselves and fall asleep Leaving dishes till tomorrow We know the mess will keep but, if Thanksgiving has true meaning And we give thanks, I want to know Who are we truly thanking really Is it God ? I need to know Are we thanking God for loving us Even though he can't be seen Do we thank ourselves for what we've earned It's not as easy as it seems I mean, really when it comes down to it What is Thanksgiving truly for? Is it to gorge ourselves on turkey So we can watch football some more It's not something that I'm fond of It's a day off work, that's all I'm thankful for my bounty But, I don't know who to call To tell that I am thankful I'm a transplant here you see I don't understand Thanksgiving It don't mean much to me If a homeless man is thankful Is it right that some are not They just eat and watch their football All the things that he has not He's as thankful as the next man In fact I'd say he's more Because to him, a true thanksgiving Doesn't need to have a score.
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Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
Thanksgiving
Formerly known as the Departments of: State, Treasury, Justice, Interior, Agriculture, Commerce, Labor, Defense, Health and Human Services, Housing and Urban Development, Transportation, Energy, Education, Veterans Affairs, and last but certainly not least, Homeland Security.
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Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 4:21 AM UTC
The U.S. Departments of "Shut the **** Up!"
bonetender night, polaric. windswept crown atones weeping wanderer. rigid matriarch condones tantrum medication. vast control shapes diminished conscience, actuating frustration; migrane pulse doctorate. sad shell housing beaten wails, a closed eye, ear to brains. steady now, absorb sultry stance. dim lamp set on autonomic fade.
0
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:00 AM UTC
Untitled
Housing waning Where do you expect me to go? Stop selling me Harrow (Not even if you talking Road). Imma Grove gyal…! I got my vibe spots and chill spots, my food stalls and book haunts. We - SJC are not just a Safer Neighbours blight Given half the obstacles - gentle gentry maybe more of us would be standing free I’ll take myself outta Grove when I’mmmm ready. RBKC done turned up that pressure though. Knocking down to wipe out The enriching colour and spice that grew out of adversity Permission to “celebrate” over the August bank holiday, No amount of stop and searches g’on make me forget. We belong here too. So get to know and stop putting up my rent.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
Ladbroke Grove Calling
I gave away my branches, I gave away my leaves, you chopped me up for housing, then ran off, leaving me. I gave away my dirt, and gave away my air, I gave away the water, you said you'd none to spare. I gave away my patterns, I gave away my age, I gave away all I had, and you'd just take and take. And now that I have nothing, I sit alone, and cry I think how I am now a stump, and you didn't even say goodbye.
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May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 5:03 PM UTC
Giving Trees and Cruelties
Oakes-photo, hypocrisy and flagrant mirky plateau. Brimming celestial warrants overcrowding public housing systems. North-South lights, sell costly iPhone Apps; and then there are Social Societies of non-verbal delight. Password protected non-profitable and over-costly educations of no reward or biblical synonyms. Catastrophizing hash-tag dot.com. Weary party going poster children with glowing anemone guts, fruity looped cantlings, ravenous scattered supper clubbed coughing up ******* on their strange and central affairs unit. Overcome the candisation and sugary affairs of any of the ***** and pops that erstwhile matter less and less. We are speaking of nomenclatures that don't arise. Promises and by which confession aloof romanticizes every Tom dicking Mary that carries the theory of sustainable energy, prussian blue, and irregular browsing.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
Irregular Browsing: A Temperamental Prussian Blue
They say we're degenerates as we walk with sore shoulders, flimsy backs, fractured dreams. The word millennial is used like some derogatory word -- we're meant to feel like **** because our parents failed us. Because smartphones help us release dopamine. Because we're addicted to virtual realities. Because we **** strangers that we hope validate us. No one understands why the news says this about drugs and this about violence -- or why we do 'those things' and if we have any 'goddamn sense'. It's beyond them. Maybe beyond us. It's higher than our weekends; lower than our expectations.
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May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
23. The 2008 Housing Bubble is Something I can Look Up on my iPhone; Degenerates
Sitting out on the fresh green grass awakens something inside me. The dampness of the ground slowly seeping through my blue jeans, the fresh aroma telling me that although the grass was freshly cut, it lives, breathes, and grows Around me are ancient buildings, housing thousands of students, whose minds are alive—or, to be honest, are most likely half asleep The mountains stand softly in the background, somehow still partially snow capped. They form a security blanket, sad when we leave, but welcoming as we come back And the sky—the brilliant blue majesty above—somehow envelopes all of this, as if it somehow knows each one of us It holds the billowing white clouds that shape shift into almost anything my vagabond heart desires The birds flying high in the sky talk with a sort of excitement, and fly away in a hurry There is a hustle and bustle—people talking, airplanes flying, cars driving—that remind me I’m not alone And you know what I taste? Freedom The freedom that allows me to be whatever and whoever I want to be. It beckons me to explore every land and swim in every sea. It shows me who I truly love and who I desire to become This magical place—has allowed me to find me.
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Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
The Quad
Premeditated Amnesia 1 For nothing here is old, save for deep layers Of moss and muck and mouldering remains Civilisations lit by visions and fire Now lost beneath a Wal-Mart Parking lot Incuriously the tentacles of Now Slither more deeply into the pale past And churn up yet another housing estate At the corner of Kingsford Lane and Heather Way Near the Motorcycle Church, for piston prayers: For nothing here is old, save for deep layers 1”The U.S. is probably the contemporary world’s purest example of a society which is perpetually trying to abolish history, to avoid thinking in historical terms, to associate dynamism with premeditated amnesia.” -Alexander Woodside quoted by Susan Sontag: https://bostonreview.net/susan-sontag-interview-geoffrey-movius?utm_source=Boston+Review+Email+Subscribers&utm_campaign=b581739691-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2018_08_17_04_17_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_2cb428c5ad-b581739691-41080789
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Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 4:19 PM UTC
Premeditated Amnesia
00:49 Carmel momin' there although men it's scary for almost anything you know after all the model finally garcia alcohol use at all finale jurors for them to you often it is not come on saturday contain delaware commune daze on continue housing billion went through the ebay dosing mean are you reading for only emailing here and your mom along all you are not using spoon this long didn't the Stalin today is hamburger 3:31 darlin'
0
Oct 18, 2012
Oct 18, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
Hellogoodbye, Annotated