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"lancer" poems
oh boy with long hair and a wild mind he was always there never hard to find he called me lotus flower always okay, even if there were stormy showers and something didn't go my way i keep listening to his music in hopes that he wrote it for me he cured my sick and set me free
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Aug 17, 2017
Aug 17, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
lancer
Our house was a 12 year old Lancer car Sitting in its congested patio, Beheld the sky That sky spilled over the sky Stars squirmed and threatened to jump down immediately We were like the children beneath the mango tree who do not rush to school Even after the last bell The wind may blow any moment Our house was a 12 year old Lancer car Descried the sea Sitting inside its smoke-filled, odorous kitchen That sea overflowed the sea The fish swimming along in the deep asked, “coming?” We were Like the fisherman waiting for the snakehead murrel Though it is noon and he is hungry The sea fish do not know The grooves of tears and the little waterway Rainclouds can arrive anytime Our house was a 12 year old Lancer car Saw the woods sitting near its un-curtained window Those woods got darker than woods Trees pretending to cavil for my being late Moonlight clear and fuzzy amongst boughs Us, like fireflies watching ripened paddy stalks There are wounds that are hidden A lightning can strike any moment Our house was a 12 year old Lancer car Sitting in its spaces coarse otherwise We quenched each other’s thirst and hunger Argued Prayed Perused the holy book Often, while no one watched, We fed the dolls Sung them lullabies On these occasions, I went out pretending that I wanted a smoke Thereupon, between us Sky sea woods.
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Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
12 year old sky sea woods
I find a small lonely sun that illuminates only one Planet. I ride my Lightcycle to this planet and find that it has no life whatsoever. The skies are as yellow as the sunflowers back at home. I ride through the strange purple sands of this dead lonely planet. My lightcycle star shell fills in with purples and yellows. There are no kind of mountains or structures. Just endless purple sands. No winds sing on this planet. Its like a planetary purple canvas made of endless sad sand. And then from the yellow and purple horizon I see the most beautiful blue I have ever seen. A sort of blue that almost seems to emit life itself. A strange machine flies on by! Leaving behind a life stream of endless blue. The yellow sky begins to almost melt away into the blue. My Lightcycle fills back in with the blues of my thoughts. The machine then flies in an amazing circular pattern creating a monstrous hurricane that covers half of the planet. I then ride alongside this machine that is known as a Lancer! I have never seen one! The Lancer senses me near and begins to speed away. I try and keep up as we leave the Planet but the Lancer is by far to fast for me! As I turn back around and look to the dead planet I see that the Lancer has left behind the most beautiful blue filled Planet.  I travel back to its surface as the genesis of life begins again!
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Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
Lightcycles and Lancers
stoked lightening, does where your fur stroked unmeeting skin a ribbon grow heating wetly (at fingers tightly coiling sin)? does where from stocky steam ****** ***** effuse drunk blood, a stagger of giggling ****** giddily unstoppably bud? perhaps, or, does (i know) your unknowing skirt a mutter a rill of sweetness (acrid) as like honey and butter? A query, i think, your parting question answers. At cherry pressing; at crimson lancer.
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Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:13 AM UTC
Untitled
Was crossing the road It is not like crossing anything else A Trailer Might partition into pieces Or a Hummer, In a second, make one a nonentity Or a tin can of a vehicle Take away your hand or leg. Even if your last wish, In case you have to die in an automobile crash, Is that it should be the red lancer car you are very fond of, Which court will listen? On the other side of the road, there is a neem tree Its dark green leaves are visible. No, cannot see the bitterness, But it is possible it is. I have to cross the road. Then I have to stand a bit under the green on the other side Those birds have to run away (no, not fly!) And come back just the way they went. What then? It is, after all, the road that was crossed, Which is something! While crossing the road, came a Trailer Whose driver was a Tamilian A Hummer came, In which there was a father, his friend, Mother and two kids The kid was singing loudly The friend was thinking about his girl friend A rickety old tin can of a vehicle too came It was full of wine bottles For the next century What then? Trailer was divided into many pieces Hummer made one a nonentity in a second The old vehicle took away two hands, one leg, and two ears. Now the one who looks this way from the other side: Is it the one who reached the other side, Or the one who was standing here, Or the one who crossed the road, Or the one who has to return?
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Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 8:20 AM UTC
The crossing
The Lancer: Life Lancer... The final sweep through this once dead planet is done.. This is my favorite part about this job.. I land in a desert lifeless, golden sand mixed with black.. This wasteland will come to life.. I look to the sky and see life reborn.. It starts with a magnificient spirial of colors as the atmoshere begins to awake.. I stand in the sand and watch this world come to life.. The first storm is on the horizon.. Deep blues among deep blues I swear the sky is the ocean.. All colors of lightning begin to arc the dead away.. The entire planet is quickly engulfed in the Ultra storm.. I can feel the planet smile again.. LIFE has become the apocalypse for the apocalypse.. Its time to leave..
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Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:56 PM UTC
THE L A N C E R
Though you deny it I'll bet you're beautiful, did you say 36, or 38, no matter and eyes not blue, nor blood I hear not arabesque, not a dancer? Can you cook, published articles in the "Lancer"? Nonetheless, I'll bet you're beautiful, Just my guess.
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Jan 21, 2011
Jan 21, 2011 at 10:50 AM UTC
Just my guess
Was crossing the road It is not like crossing anything else A Trailer Might partition into pieces Or a Hummer, In a second, make one a nonentity Or a tin can of a vehicle Take away your hand or leg. Even if your last wish, In case you have to die in an automobile crash, Is that it should be the red lancer car you are very fond of, Which court will listen? On the other side of the road, there is a neem tree Its dark green leaves are visible. No, cannot see the bitterness, But it is possible it is. I have to cross the road. Then I have to stand a bit under the green on the other side Those birds have to run away (no, not fly!) And come back just the way they went. What then? It is, after all, the road that was crossed, Which is something! While crossing the road, came a Trailer Whose driver was a Tamilian A Hummer came, In which there was a father, his friend, Mother and two kids The kid was singing loudly The friend was thinking about his girl friend A rickety old tin can of a vehicle too came It was full of wine bottles For the next century What then? Trailer was divided into many pieces Hummer made one a nonentity in a second The old vehicle took away two hands, one leg, and two ears. Now the one who looks this way from the other side: Is it the one who reached the other side, Or the one who was standing here, Or the one who crossed the road, Or the one who has to return?
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Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 8:06 PM UTC
The crossing
It’s fortunate the rain had ceased early this warm November day. I glance at my watch: 12:27; “Lancer” and “Lace” are on their way. I see Lee in his sniper’s perch. I still wonder if he’ll get this done. I stand on the grassy knoll. Beneath my jacket, I touch my gun. We must not fail; the King must die. I am the insurance it will be done. A shot is fired from up above. “Lancer” grabs his throat and chest and Camelot becomes undone. The second bullet finds its mark And “Lace” is spattered with brains and blood. The crowd is gripped with sudden fear. Here and there they start to run Some woman screams “They’ve murdered him”. I secretly smile for we have won. I make my way to the phone booth there inside the Dallas Barbecue. I call Ruby at his club. “Jack, I have one more job for you.”
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Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
Ask Not
I'll be your gateway I'll be the alcohol that burns the pain inside But i won't give you throat cancer And i do live life like an evasive lancer Tell the world these words And you'll see yourself more colorful I'm much more healthy than the toxins you're consuming Just let me inside your heart, soul and mind I'm not an invader I'm here to soften the hardened soul that tries to keep everyone away
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
Gateway
I've got to ask myself Is it real? You love me, and I haven't told you the deal When I think, I sigh just keep spinnin' the wheel It's been a minute or a milenia Who's to tell my mind of mania It's an awkward answer to your question within Just like a lancer I have to win
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
Untitled
The thing that we all dread, the conversation of condemnation When a family member may take a permanent vacation Leave from this world into one that is new And when you think of your memories, there are too few Many people joke and describe something as being cancer The thing that kills more than a medieval lancer The thing that is found in my family members I wish I could give it back with a stamp “return to sender” Please don't let this take more of my family Noone else should be ****** you see All of them are great and dear to my heart Most have been in my life right since the start But this man is one I haven't known for long But he's still my family so let me note in this song I love you, and I don't want you to go But I don't want pain to be the last thing you know So I hope that at the end, whether it's death or healing That the only thing in your heart, is the love you should be feeling
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Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 2:28 PM UTC
The Conversation of Condemnation
Why am I here? Why are you not? Is that answer sincere? It is and isn’t, just a thought You may ask who is who, in this scenario Well, I’m you and you’re me Like audio on a stereo I’m someone you’ll never see I’m the answer to all But the question to none A slip in the crack as you may recall Although my words weigh a ton A question may appear for you to answer Remember the right words Or are you more of a free lancer Don’t forget to catch every herd Why am I here? Why are you? Was the answer sincere? Or was it not true
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May 7, 2024
May 7, 2024 at 3:32 PM UTC
Why Am I?
Fifi s'est réveillé. Dès l'aube tu m'as dit Bonjour en deux baisers, et le pauvre petit Pépia, puis remit sa tête sous son aile Et tut pour le moment sa gente ritournelle. Ici je te rendis pour les tiens un baiser Multiforme, ubiquiste et qui fut se poser De la plante des pieds au bout des cheveux sombres Avec des stations aux lieux d'éclairs et d'ombres, Un jeu (car tu riais) ridiculement doux, Et, brusque, entre les tiens je poussai mes genoux, Tôt redressé sur eux et, penché vers ta bouche, Fus brutal sans que tu te montrasses farouche, Car tu remerciais dans un regard mouillé C'est alors que Fifi, tout à fait réveillé, Le mignon compagnon ! comparable aux bons drilles Que le bonheur d'autrui ne fait pas envieux, Salua mon triomphe en des salves de trilles Que tout son petit cœur semblait lancer aux cieux. Il sautillait, fiérot, comme un gars qui se cambre, Acclamant un vainqueur justement renommé, Et l'aurore éclatant aux carreaux de la chambre Attestait sans mentir que nous avions aimé.
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Fifi s'est réveillé
Some stories are more true than others This may be one of them Or it may be another Some bend the line Between fiction and fact I detract…… Believe it or not, Back before the world began Before you were you And I was me We created the world The way We wanted it to be So don’t be so proud of all your degrees Because you created you The way I wanted you to be You decided where you would live What you would do All the experiences you would go through I’d tell you this is a fable And that’s one reality If you were only able To understand You’re under an umbrella Of insanity Or could that be me Fear not, Sir Lancelot Your truth lancer Is just a fantasy dancer She’s never coming for you Is that what you want her to do You should never believe a fantasy dancer Did you ever hear the riddle Or was it a conundrum About the two brothers One always told the truth And one always told a lie How to tell the difference It really wasn’t necessary I’ll tell you why hmmm I forget the point I was going to make Something about what is true And what is fake Yes, I think that was it. So while you were planning To do everything right I was escaping into the night The streets were lit in incandescent light Nocturnal prowlers of the twilight We too were hoping to get it right Living under the shroud of night Rising as the sun is setting Bed wetting Corset letting Underground abetting Courter’s of midnight insights But in the end Even the darkness was so bright One gets tired of the artificiality Self-imposed marginality And decides to come into the light.
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Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC
Fantasy Dancer
Some stories are more true than others This may be one of them Or it may be another Some bend the line Between fiction and fact I detract…… Believe it or not, Back before the world began Before you were you And I was me We created the world The way We wanted it to be So don’t be so proud of all your degrees Because you created you The way I wanted you to be You decided where you would live What you would do All the experiences you would go through I’d tell you this is a fable And that’s one reality If you were only able To understand You’re under an umbrella Of insanity Or could that be me Fear not, Sir Lancelot Your truth lancer Is just a fantasy dancer She’s never coming for you Is that what you want her to do You should never believe a fantasy dancer Did you ever hear the riddle Or was it a conundrum About the two brothers One always told the truth And one always told a lie How to tell the difference It really wasn’t necessary I’ll tell you why hmmm I forget the point I was going to make Something about what is true And what is fake Yes, I think that was it. So while you were planning To do everything right I was escaping into the night The streets were lit in incandescent light Nocturnal prowlers of the twilight We too were hoping to get it right Living under the shroud of night Rising as the sun is setting Bed wetting Corset letting Underground abetting Courter’s of midnight insights But in the end Even the darkness was so bright One gets tired of the artificiality Self-imposed marginality And decides to come into the light.
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