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"overpopulation" poems
I woke up this morning and I was tired. what was I tired of.... I was tired of waste hunger greed humiliation global warming ozone depletion pollution guns deforestation extinction mining disease overpopulation terrorism selfishness destruction war mining green house gasses religion cruelty I am so tired of being tired. I am a planet that is tired, it is time to rid myself...... of the human race. I am the earth I am alive, and the human race is a parasite.
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Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
The Earth Speaks
If birth control pills could give a buzz "Unwanted" pregnancy would no longer be a Problem
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 4:44 AM UTC
Overpopulation
Welcome to the dawn of a new age Open up the book turn the page Let's excel to highest degree Recognize evolution of humanity Back on track showing I don't lack Doing what I do to make you react Let's take a trip through my mind Poetry prophecy perfectly combine Who has the answer? Let's ask the question Seems no one is paying attention To "Money" which is created by man It separates people Are you starting to understand It's a trap set by death it wont stop Till you breathe your last breath Hmm that's right... Not even death is free Money is the maker of poverty Overpopulation, segregation a messed up nation Leads to mass annihilation Wartime the battles rage on Is it about hatred? Or some politician's song? Time and space The final frontiers Bombs explode people run in fear Annihilation of a species unknown Aliens from space invade our home Pledge allegiance to a flag Whichever may wave whatever they have Science is it fiction or fact? Sometimes it's hard to believe all that Who's gonna do it? Who has the answer? Prophets fall but not from cancer GOD.. Labeled "Almighty One" Spoke to us on earth through his son Whether you agree or disagree Intentions were to save humanity Who'll stand up? Who'll be the one? To bring about change without firing a gun? Each generation builds off the legacy of the last Ignorance of history doom us to repeat our past..
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Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
Dawn Of A New Age
Just imagine If instead of gasoline We had cars that ran on batteries Or steam From water that is free And those skyscrapers In your local city center Instead of banks focused solely On making money Were eighty story greenhouses We'd never go hungry                           I have a friend                           Afraid of overpopulation                           How can I explain?                           Man can do anything And instead of coal And dinosaur bones We discover potential Of unlimited energy         I know we can If we don't worry about the profit involved
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Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
over population
embrace it become insane *Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders* The world will survive *Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders* Evolutionary you see yes no yes yes no yes *Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders Save the Earth, **** the Cheerleaders* Kissy'n Girl -IBᵢd no? <> The solution to overpopulation is here; abandon morality. Save the Earth by letting loose humanity, if it feels good? if it makes money? if it makes banks money, wall street share hold it then.
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Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
The Inner King,
Blue is cold, Like beauty which falls,   Called rain. Like the warm blanket I sleep with, While they starve. Blue is the colour writers write about, When they speak of heartbreaks. And the colour of the monsters, Under your bed. Blue is the red and white of the Americans, And the Ashoka Chakra of the Indians, The colour of the eyes of the Germans who lived, And the colour of the tears of the Jews who lost. Blue is the skin of the dark hued god you pray to, And the sky he looks at, And the sky I look at, Blue is the fading Sun, And the sleeping Moon, The stars in the sky, Which we wish upon, Which are already dead, Like all our dreams. Blue is the vast ocean we can not cross, But we have, With our metal birds......those aren't blue. Blue is the blood the women bleed, And the Palestinians in Israel. And the sleepless children fighting wars. Blue is free health care, And overpopulation. Blue is religion, And it is death. Blue is the glazing over your eyes as you read this. Because blue...isnt a colour.
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Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 7:54 AM UTC
Blue
On a long journey across the night of an America I drove into the desert landscape and beheld Elvis and Morrison, Hendrix and Dylan In a ditch to the side of the road, with trash bags in their hands. They seemed to whistle while they worked, But the notes just wafted into the night, not nearly fast enough to catch my speeding Cadillac. In the morning, I stopped into a diner With my breakfast and coffee, I saw a newspaper that was guaranteed by the Andy Warhol himself to be one hundred percent truthful. I didn't read it. Had to get back on the road The desert went on forever, and in the oil fields I saw Jackson Pollack, standing by a gusher, Wearing a cheshire grin. I smiled back at him, secure in the knowledge that I would have enough gas to get where I was going. The announcer's voice blasted through my car's radio. He said Poe had solved overpopulation, and that Emerson, Thoreau, Uncle Walt and Miss Em had got their hands ***** and fed the entire continent of Africa. I shut him off and bore my eyes down on the asphalt ahead. I passed a drive in theater on the left side of the road and caught a glimpse of Scorsese accepting the Nobel Prize for Peace. Someone told me later that he and DeNiro had stopped genocide. I politely nodded and got back in my car. Out there was America and I was going to find it. Out there was industry and capital. Out there was ingenuity and hard work. Out there were my own bootstraps waiting for me to pull them up. Out there was America, and I was going to find it fast.
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Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 3:49 AM UTC
Out There Was America
On a long journey across the night of an America I drove into the desert landscape and beheld Elvis and Morrison, Hendrix and Dylan In a ditch to the side of the road, with trash bags in their hands. They seemed to whistle while they worked, But the notes just wafted into the night, not nearly fast enough to catch my speeding Cadillac. In the morning, I stopped into a diner With my breakfast and coffee, I saw a newspaper that was guaranteed by the Andy Warhol himself to be one hundred percent truthful. I didn't read it. Had to get back on the road The desert went on forever, and in the oil fields I saw Jackson Pollack, standing by a gusher, Wearing a cheshire grin. I smiled back at him, secure in the knowledge that I would have enough gas to get where I was going. The announcer's voice blasted through my car's radio. He said Poe had solved overpopulation, and that Emerson, Thoreau, Uncle Walt and Miss Em had got their hands ***** and fed the entire continent of Africa. I shut him off and bore my eyes down on the asphalt ahead. I passed a drive in theater on the left side of the road and caught a glimpse of Scorsese accepting the Nobel Prize for Peace. Someone told me later that he and DeNiro had stopped genocide. I politely nodded and got back in my car. Out there was America and I was going to find it. Out there was industry and capital. Out there was ingenuity and hard work. Out there were my own bootstraps waiting for me to pull them up. Out there was America, and I was going to find it fast.
Continue reading...
33
Multiplication, Tabled by Michael R. Burch for the Religious Right “Be fruitful and multiply”— great advice, for a fruitfly! But for women and men, simple Simons, say, “WHEN!” Keywords/Tags: Christianity, religion, procreation, multiplication, fruitful, multiply, overpopulation, abortion, birth, control, contraceptives, ****** pill, creationists, global, warming, climate, change, pope, Vatican
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Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 10:38 PM UTC
Multiplication, Tabled
some people live for what lasts some people live for what's left some people make sure to leave things that last so the people whom they've left can live some things last forever that shouldn't some are the last of their kind some people care more for material things than for what's going on outside they'll be fine in their homes with their money just fine until the green on the trees starts to go remember how great it once grew before our exponential growth and everything we've grown to know and we knew this year's inflation overpopulation in nations and nations and nations of people who all need a phone and who all need a car and who all need more gas cause we drive really far all time and we need to go out in the summer to purchase a new AC and we all have to separate our wants from our needs ...and we need to begin to go back to the world where we lived for what kept us alive without money or time.. ...all the world ..in my mind but i'm just one guy.
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Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
just fine (i should warn you)
Raise your hand if your confidence is reaching its limit Well let me tell you, don't dare believe it for a minute A poet stands at the center of circles of illusions Sparked by the fire within and burnin' institutions They write about the current state as far as they can see it, as well as personal doubts claimin' that they can feel it Don't hand your savings over, 'cause now you pay it forward, but life won't pay you back, So what you say to that? *"I say we're bein' controlled by such an evil system; a metal contract was forced on lost and bleedin' victims." "I don't agree with you, man. We're where we need to be. With very little control, we risk to eat for free!" We risk to eat for free? "Food's a commodity! And with overpopulation, I say this honestly!" "Don't mean to interrupt; your notion of depravity appears dumbfounded and far from grounded by gravity." "I say this world belongs to kings and innovators; hope of the people is thrown to the incinerator." "We're seeking liberators mightier than the sword. We work to buy them a pen - weapons we can afford." "And when their eyes are wide open I think that writers see the world not for what it is, rather what it could be." "Yeah! They're talkin' for us metaphorically, imaginin' utopias for you and me, questions answered rhetorically."* The world is yours and no one else's, so live to give it more time through love and being selfless.
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May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
Whose World is This?
I have the shape of the institution. Each email address is a human. They are known by their words and actions. The whole wide world is just a fraction of all I do not know. Expansion and contraction, breathe in, out, meditation on existence, non-existence, creation and duration. I have no explanation for fusion, fission, taxonomic relations or artificial classification. More I do not know: locomotion by combustion, electron separation and transportation via superconduction which supports the idea of the unified nation. What girls are like behind their eyes. ************ a useful restraint on overpopulation. The story of a life, my life, any life, cohesion must be rationed, conjured, a fiction about a vexed, tenacious town, its rail station truck stop, high school, night spots, recreations the temporary citizens enact visions dream-like orations, ballets, conflagrations to in the end receive in annals honorable mention from family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, institutions.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Shape of the Institution
A beautiful world, it needs some cuddles, All around, the world of struggles, Plants all over are gasping, While chemicals pollutants are grasping, Fur, feathers and fish are becoming extinct, As their habitats can no longer exist, Then there's plebs in Earth, who struggle, Overpopulation--maybe too many cuddles, Soon for air we'll all be gasping, While the powers--that-be go on grasping, All around a world of struggles, Our beautiful world needs a cuddle.
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Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC
STRUGGLES!
World economies teetering on the edge ISIS threats Enemies armed with nuclear weapons Fukishima radiation Illegal immigration and Overpopulation Terrorists cross the unguarded U.S. border Passing throug a Texas range Don't forget droughts, food scarcity and climate change I figure it's likely Somthing terrible is bound to happen In this nation
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May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
Hard Times Ahead
Humanity is on the rocks And we are nearing the edge too quickly Pollution and overpopulation have filled the fallen forests Popularity is all that matters now Yet to care about your appearance is vain Death is glorified to look like a romantic gesture The world can’t continue like this We can’t continue like this
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 9:05 AM UTC
Cliffhanger
Davenport Tomorrow by Michael R. Burch Davenport tomorrow ... all the trees stand stark-naked in the sun. Now it is always summer and the bees buzz in cesspools, adapted to a new life. There are no flowers, but the weeds, being hardier, have survived. The small town has become a city of millions; there is no longer a sea, only a huge sewer, but the children don't mind. They still study rocks and stars, but biology is a forgotten science ... after all, what is life? Davenport tomorrow ... all the children murmur through vein-streaked gills whispered wonders of long-ago. Keywords/Tags: Davenport, tomorrow, future, global warming, climate change, extinction, mutation, overpopulation, disease, trees, naked, leafless
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Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 1:46 AM UTC
Davenport Tomorrow
Some days my heart shines like its sure the sun is its closest rival and oldest teacher, Other days my brain convinces it that it might as well just call in sick for the day to avoid the echoing pains of nights prior, On most days though my heart is in a constant argument with my brain, Maybe not an argument but more of a negotiation, my brain lets my heart wander on a longer leash and play its music a little louder, but once the storm clouds roll in my heart has no choice but to be locked away for the sake of my mental foundations integrity. Somewhere in the compounds of my body there is a soul that cant get a word in on the dialougues of my heart and brain, Then again he has no scientific bearing in the world so he holds no worthwile input? But what if my brain and heart are tool my sould has yet to figure out? Or vice versa? Maybe souls are adaptations and sentience is is just us learning to use those adaptations to our advantage? Souls cant be just tools or improvements though, they are too cemented and too complex, Too raw, unobservable, undescribable, and undeniable. I just wish there was a way to get all 3 on the same page. Nothings the same lately and its like my world flipped upside down, and this is me falling out of reality into infinity and watching everything Ive wanted or known pass me bye like lines on a road. The other day I took some acid and found myself laughing at the fact that we discover medicines and we have politics and science and that we have this curiosity to explore and this hellbent obsession with expansion and growth. I realized at that moment that there is a simple and absolutely gorgeous futility to everything humans do, We might cure cancer, The sun will still blow up eventually, We may find world peace, But overpopulation might bite us for that one, The point is nothing we do can stop the end times, that doesnt mean stop what youre doing and lose all motivation, it just means at the end of the day, were in the can regardless, dont sweat the small stuff and make your moments gleam.
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Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
(In)sanity writes night 2
Some days my heart shines like its sure the sun is its closest rival and oldest teacher, Other days my brain convinces it that it might as well just call in sick for the day to avoid the echoing pains of nights prior, On most days though my heart is in a constant argument with my brain, Maybe not an argument but more of a negotiation, my brain lets my heart wander on a longer leash and play its music a little louder, but once the storm clouds roll in my heart has no choice but to be locked away for the sake of my mental foundations integrity. Somewhere in the compounds of my body there is a soul that cant get a word in on the dialougues of my heart and brain, Then again he has no scientific bearing in the world so he holds no worthwile input? But what if my brain and heart are tool my sould has yet to figure out? Or vice versa? Maybe souls are adaptations and sentience is is just us learning to use those adaptations to our advantage? Souls cant be just tools or improvements though, they are too cemented and too complex, Too raw, unobservable, undescribable, and undeniable. I just wish there was a way to get all 3 on the same page. Nothings the same lately and its like my world flipped upside down, and this is me falling out of reality into infinity and watching everything Ive wanted or known pass me bye like lines on a road. The other day I took some acid and found myself laughing at the fact that we discover medicines and we have politics and science and that we have this curiosity to explore and this hellbent obsession with expansion and growth. I realized at that moment that there is a simple and absolutely gorgeous futility to everything humans do, We might cure cancer, The sun will still blow up eventually, We may find world peace, But overpopulation might bite us for that one, The point is nothing we do can stop the end times, that doesnt mean stop what youre doing and lose all motivation, it just means at the end of the day, were in the can regardless, dont sweat the small stuff and make your moments gleam.
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18
If my depression, my inner demons were physical, then I could fight them                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             If they were something standing right in front of me, instead of living in the darkest corners of my mind, slinking in the overpopulation of shadows                                                                                                                                                                               Then I could make them feel the pain they've put me through all these years.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  If only... it doesn't matter, we are together forevermore. Stuck with The Grey, stuck with myself
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 5:26 PM UTC
If It Were Another
If my depression, my inner demons were physical, then I could fight them                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             If they were something standing right in front of me, instead of living in the darkest corners of my mind, slinking in the overpopulation of shadows                                                                                                                                                                               Then I could make them feel the pain they've put me through all these years.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  If only... it doesn't matter, we are together forevermore. Stuck with The Grey, stuck with myself
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1
Nature The atoms circling within A cycle of energy One world dissolving into the next. Nature survives on death An afterlife exists After time has passed One where there is no fear of the unknown. No overpopulation in this area. No need to travel space. And who the hell cares about cancer. When the universe is reborn Laws will have changed And under the influence of a new space Nature Will cease to exist.
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Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 12:35 AM UTC
Untitled
The doe ran across the road and I had to catch my startled breaths. The doe ran across the road and a car swerved, successfully. The doe ran and looked at my face for fifteen seconds (or more...or less). The doe ran across the road and jumped so high and landed amongst a small bunch of trees. The doe outran me. I was on my bicycle that day. The doe ran five miles per hour. Every hour. The doe ran while I climbed wooden staircases. The doe ran after she acknowledged my presence, and I acknowledged hers. The doe ran because she was afraid I would hurt her (why would I hurt her? for food). The doe ran away afraid and I was secretly afraid--don’t mention this to my Nature friends--that the doe did not hurt me. The doe ran away from the other does because of overpopulation. The doe ran. I want to run with the doe, or on the doe. The doe ran across the road a lot every day.
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Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
The doe ran across the road (take 2)
When did ****** stop Being something she wrote Where horror novels of psychotic existences Became newspaper articles Obituaries cross seas Closer to home then you realize When did chaos start it's invasion Life issuing genocide bounties Humanity on it's most wanted Why are we starting to fear our existence When we are the madness Putting us on the endangered species list Maybe we need it Overpopulation leads to destruction Habitats fading Are we the parasite Creating more problems to fuel our greed Are we the demons that will inherit this realm Roaches in nature's home We fear our existence When pistol Pete's become artillery fire Burning chests and scarring lives Or shrapnel in middle of crowds Sear flesh piercing innocence As knives hit backs Five finger discounts in pocket stores This is our world Amen to chaos As it becomes the new religion
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Jul 4, 2017
Jul 4, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
Fear Existence
Alias indomitable invincible Donald John Trump oozes wrath inexorably plunging every species of life toward apocalyptic warpath mercilessly threatentens world wide web promising bloodbath validating ex post facto commander in chief as nonpareil sociopath hence... this call to arms gives run for money challenging any psychopath lest inevitable according to dead reckoning prediction of wisest sages calculated math. Thus one poetic footsoldier doth broadcast dire straits emergency, and inveigh grassroots action mandatory meaning registered voters must cast ballot per se else planet Earth will... burn thermonuclear gray rendering oblate spheroid uninhabitable, I daresay if bleak forecast father time doth delay global warming would outweigh former worst case nihilistic scenario, nonetheless Gaia will serve as repurposed ashtray, whereby inextinguishable fiery storms approximating calculus of doomsday nsync with intolerable weather forecasts if complacency rides roughshod field day defying lack of immunization oy vey against opportunistic unfamiliar organisms viral and bacterial agent provocateurs microscopic gangbusters nothing could allay winning scrimmage play thinning overpopulation whereby scavengers make short shrift plethora once living flotsam and jetsam perhaps requiring rotting, putrefying, goods put on layaway (type of foragers - reference https://www.google.com/search? client=safari&channel=mac_bm&ei= KECaXe_UA6SO5wLh-7gY&q=list+ examples+of+scavengers&oq=list+types+ of+scavengers&gs_l=psy-ab.1.0.0i22i30. 58737.70074..70997...0.4..0.223.1875. 21j2j1......0....1..gws-wiz....... 0i71j0i273j0j0i131j0i67j33i22i29i30. wnDI0kLrKWM). now ye might hashtag me chicken little synonymous to Rome burning, while Nero did fiddle, perhaps scaremonger i.e. Cassandra alamist bah bing away, a realist foaming at figurative mouth with spittle, would you believe cautious optimist, who presents prediction, while this poem heed whittle.
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Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 5:18 PM UTC
Impregnable fortified Donjon
Alias indomitable invincible Donald John Trump oozes wrath inexorably plunging every species of life toward apocalyptic warpath mercilessly threatentens world wide web promising bloodbath validating ex post facto commander in chief as nonpareil sociopath hence... this call to arms gives run for money challenging any psychopath lest inevitable according to dead reckoning prediction of wisest sages calculated math. Thus one poetic footsoldier doth broadcast dire straits emergency, and inveigh grassroots action mandatory meaning registered voters must cast ballot per se else planet Earth will... burn thermonuclear gray rendering oblate spheroid uninhabitable, I daresay if bleak forecast father time doth delay global warming would outweigh former worst case nihilistic scenario, nonetheless Gaia will serve as repurposed ashtray, whereby inextinguishable fiery storms approximating calculus of doomsday nsync with intolerable weather forecasts if complacency rides roughshod field day defying lack of immunization oy vey against opportunistic unfamiliar organisms viral and bacterial agent provocateurs microscopic gangbusters nothing could allay winning scrimmage play thinning overpopulation whereby scavengers make short shrift plethora once living flotsam and jetsam perhaps requiring rotting, putrefying, goods put on layaway (type of foragers - reference https://www.google.com/search? client=safari&channel=mac_bm&ei= KECaXe_UA6SO5wLh-7gY&q=list+ examples+of+scavengers&oq=list+types+ of+scavengers&gs_l=psy-ab.1.0.0i22i30. 58737.70074..70997...0.4..0.223.1875. 21j2j1......0....1..gws-wiz....... 0i71j0i273j0j0i131j0i67j33i22i29i30. wnDI0kLrKWM). now ye might hashtag me chicken little synonymous to Rome burning, while Nero did fiddle, perhaps scaremonger i.e. Cassandra alamist bah bing away, a realist foaming at figurative mouth with spittle, would you believe cautious optimist, who presents prediction, while this poem heed whittle.
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61
Perfect purity doesn’t persist, even exist-- Not even in children. Who have to learn to grow a soul, Share their toys, Not emotionally blackmail, And understand death and that pain to others is real. Still I feel as if my own childhood’s eyes Wouldn’t recognize, wide and impressionable As watercolor lilies, The woman with eyes fogged From overpopulation of troubles. Green grass to jaded. Self-doubt blooms like the flower It would be ashamed to be. Rushing up like a seed that feeds In the darkness, in, perversely, the gut. Unknown in youth, it towers, Then plateaus, in ego. Vines of avarice mustn’t be allowed To grasp for the old selfishness. Placidity can’t be tranquilly accepted When it slips cozily into the bed to invasively smother hard-wished-for dreams and hard-won values. Go the hearty and fertile ground in the middle, For there we all have our hope.
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
Kinder and Gardeners of All Ages