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"pittsburg" poems
Mason substaining an undisclosed injury concussion against pittsburg less time to think Mason gets hit Stunned head buzzing comeback produced he wanted so bad since he was a kid he wanted to play in the stanly cup playoffs concussion
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 8:31 AM UTC
concussion
Mason substaining an undisclosed injury concussion against pittsburg less time to think Mason gets hit Stunned head buzzing comeback produced he wanted so bad since he was a kid he wanted to play in the stanly cup playoffs when he trys to stand he cant legs like jelly concussion
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Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
concussion part 2
The flyers facing there cross-state rivals Pittsburg Penguins Backup goalie emery in net starts of good then it turns for the worset 3-0 penguins i am wide eyed and mouth open stunned then second period flyers score 4 goals one by the capten, two by a deffense men, and the last by a rookie Third period flyers get puck with one minute left the pensguins Pull there goalie and sean couturier shoots it down the ice for a empty net goalie game over flyers forge a 5-3 victory for the record books and prove they are better then the flyers
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Flyers
THEY have taken the ball of earth and made it a little thing. They were held to the land and horses; they were held to the little seas. They have changed and shaped and welded; they have broken the old tools and made new ones; they are ranging the white scarves of cloudland; they are bumping the sunken bells of the Carthaginians and Phœnicians: they are handling the strongest sea as a thing to be handled. The earth was a call that mocked; it is belted with wires and meshed with steel; from Pittsburg to Vladivostok is an iron ride on a moving house; from Jerusalem to Tokyo is a reckoned span; and they talk at night in the storm and salt, the wind and the war. They have counted the miles to the Sun and Canopus; they have weighed a small blue star that comes in the southeast corner of the sky on a foretold errand. We shall search the sea again. We shall search the stars again. There are no bars across the way. There is no end to the plan and the clue, the hunt and the thirst. The motors are drumming, the leather leggings and the leather coats wait: Under the sea and out to the stars we go.
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2.3k
Leather Leggings
My Doppelganger holds secret negotiations with my Avatar. Slicing up the available territory by flipping a coin. Apparently, I can see a me for myself if I happen to be in Somalia next Monday. But that’s the Avator talking. Doppelganger is betting on Seattle. I am eavesdropping, sitting around in my underwear. They think I am unaware because I can’t see them, but they are impossible without me. Goethe, Shelley and John Donne are in the next apartment huddled over some broken poems each had written on the mirrors. No mistakes were made. No reflections. They get to see themselves out of the corner of one eye, for up to nine seconds which is like a lifetime to remember. Yet the acrid smell of Neitzsche emanates from dark corners. Sturm und Drang be ****** Neitzsche is convinced no one has ever looked like him, but he does suggest a parallel universe. Abe Lincoln, a latecomer and unlikely participant, picks up a few pointers. He knows full well that what he saw was not a reflection. And he rode that train all the way from Pittsburg. All those windows... And, yes, KA, the spirit double, the Egyptian Goddess, goes in **** as the Greek Princess and shows up as Helen to tease Paris of Troy. How can you not believe that? For Goddess sake, she helped end the Trojan War. I have a lot of time on my hands. I don’t get out much. Ava and Dopp came by just to let me know I’m still around.
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Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
My Doppleganger
It’s just a metaphor, but bad things happen when you take your eye off the ball. Like the time I fell putting my pants on, spraining my ankle, distracted by a jogger in a sports-bra glimpsed out the bathroom window; like the woman in Pittsburg who mistakenly poured bleach in her husband’s seven-n-seven contemplating her black eye in a mirror; or like the trucker in Oklahoma reaching for his phone across the seat, plowing head-on into a school bus, killing seven.
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Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Keep your Eye on the Ball
floes substaining and undisclosed injury broken ribb against pittsburg chest hurting like hell cant breath stunned people rushing around helping comebback produced he wanted so bbad since he was a kid he wanted to play in the super bowl Broken Rib
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
Broken Rib
The rails scream in the darkness Sparking, lambent bulbs trace starlight behind tinted glass No words, just motionless exhibition of man Child The shrill yapping of a terrified pup Ears plugged from the disastrous din of metal rubbing against itself The train flies through an evacuated tube pressed beneath the innumerable water column And it is deafening. Behind us the gentle shipyards, ahead the recipient city Waiting to drink up our wallets and time with her promiscuous streets As she bends her towering legs to the ironically Chinese Barge Blowing its baritone warning flutes As it tugs itself upon her Bays. I am reading the book, seeing the Brothers through the din, in between the two cities The two unhappinesses and the creatures they identify with It is a giant artifact, the tube It protrudes through The ships She sunk and constructed Market, Mission, Pier, a swamp of concrete Over the dried clump of trees A thousand bits of Theseus And the abandoned bones of thirsting men Running east, towards Pittsburg Richmond Warm Springs The line is soft between these rusting zones And the gold Forgotten for silicone I am reading a book About brothers and the curse of stone Sharing stares with dirogenous hobos And girl's pupils feasting on bodies hidden behind periodicals The rails scream in protest The railcars are turning up and out Towards the end of the darkness And the start of the largeness The city waits to list her failures to me To cry herself to sleep with raindrops of fog And rasping breaths of breeze.
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Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC
Dostoyevsky on the Train
The rails scream in the darkness Sparking, lambent bulbs trace starlight behind tinted glass No words, just motionless exhibition of man Child The shrill yapping of a terrified pup Ears plugged from the disastrous din of metal rubbing against itself The train flies through an evacuated tube pressed beneath the innumerable water column And it is deafening. Behind us the gentle shipyards, ahead the recipient city Waiting to drink up our wallets and time with her promiscuous streets As she bends her towering legs to the ironically Chinese Barge Blowing its baritone warning flutes As it tugs itself upon her Bays. I am reading the book, seeing the Brothers through the din, in between the two cities The two unhappinesses and the creatures they identify with It is a giant artifact, the tube It protrudes through The ships She sunk and constructed Market, Mission, Pier, a swamp of concrete Over the dried clump of trees A thousand bits of Theseus And the abandoned bones of thirsting men Running east, towards Pittsburg Richmond Warm Springs The line is soft between these rusting zones And the gold Forgotten for silicone I am reading a book About brothers and the curse of stone Sharing stares with dirogenous hobos And girl's pupils feasting on bodies hidden behind periodicals The rails scream in protest The railcars are turning up and out Towards the end of the darkness And the start of the largeness The city waits to list her failures to me To cry herself to sleep with raindrops of fog And rasping breaths of breeze.
Continue reading...
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By: Cedric McClester It started out in The outskirts of Pittsburg At a backyard barbeque Where shots were heard In the dark of night To the angel of death’s delight And at the conclusion of the carnage Four men were in flight Fifty shell casings On the ground Where sadly the dead Were found Several more Were wounded too When shots rang out Before they knew Again the smell of gun smoke Was in the air Cause the cowardly perpetrators Didn’t care They became the merchants Of death on a dare Guns are easy to get So the public must beware Fifty shell casings On the ground Where sadly the dead Were found Several more Were wounded too When shots rang out Before they knew It’s a sickness we have And there is no doubt That we haven’t been able To stamp it out With a do nothing Congress And the NRA It seems to be happening Every other day This time it was Pittsburg Where will it be next And don’t take a single word Out of context Until we can get ourselves Out of this hex We’ll be confronted with something That defies intellects Fifty shell casings On the ground Where sadly the dead Were found Several more Were wounded too When shots rang out Before they knew Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016.  All rights reserved.
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Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:04 AM UTC
FIFTY SHELL CASINGS
. Everyone pretendin They not knowin Everything • And lo ! The stranger From out of the darkness Right on time ;:; Some say All the cities are burnin // Some say The whole earth is dead // ( & then Of course There are the pessimists ) ;:;/ the young girl by the stream in the woods Draws forth the water for the dawn )( ( & then she let's her dress slip off And ...... WAIT ! WAIT ! WAIT ! I was thinking of a Hollywood movie ! This is just a poem ) (;:/ She draws the water to take to the boys in the field "" there is talk about a holy mother But she just talks about the Pittsburg Pirates ;:)( In her heart she holds you dearly Every one :/ She is my sister I've known her for 1000 years
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Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
. .. ... .... ..... ...... )
::::: <•> <•> ~~ (•) (•) And we are many •• ( soon we shall be --- less ) // There are mountains ( The EARTH is gone ) \\ Don't cry child Yo mama tried to love ya but it was hard after they shot yo daddy down --- Once there was a Pittsburg Once there was a Detroit Once there was America But these are gone ----- So So why don't ya run away ? So So why don't ya come with me ? Hey It won't be better tomorrow as you know ••///////•• RAIN ••\\\\\\•• It gonna drown the world Won't take no 40 days this time -- If you'd love Better have a Better game plan Than ya got today •• If you want to love Best start with ANYONE AT ALL -- You know what I mean I'm sure That you all know what I mean
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Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
this train done bound for oh god help me
We met our friends At a local restaurant They lived in Pittsburg And we barely saw Them anymore Regardless The embrace was very Warm as it usually is Between good friends She was some kind of writer He had just become a detective After working in a drug Related crime unit for years Now he worked with gangs "You see the same **** Heads all the time, And they just don't ******* Die." "They get shot 9, 10, 11, 12 times And spit on the Nurses while they stitch Them up." "I don't know how You feel about it, But those people Are animals, ******* animals." I found myself nodding in Agreement even though I had no idea what his Job or the animals Lives encompassed I felt bad agreeing with him But in a way, I knew he was right We are all animals In one way or another I find that the animals Born to the smallest cages Tend to be the fiercest While the animals born in Large cages or If they're lucky Open fields Tend to have no idea How confining a small cage Can really be.
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Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 1:54 PM UTC
Animals