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Why Dogs are Better Than CatsA dog has a lot to do,
But you already to that,
and so this is a poem all about
why dogs are better than cats.
First, let's talk about night,
Since night gives most of us some fright;
Dogs will sleep all through the day (except when they have to play, of course)
But if an intruder knocks on the door,
A dog will roll up off the floor,
And bark, and bark, and bark.
And say the intruder didn't knock,
The dog will not exactly bark,
But will come up to the bad guy
wagging its tail,
Distracting the bad fellow with endless kisses.
Then Mom will know something is amiss,
Since someone in the house is getting kissed,
and everyone is safe in bed,
So a bad guy must be wanting fed;
So the Mom will come down and bring out the chicken,
Or at least that's what Fido thinks,
Then she'll feed Fido first, and then the bad guy,
Who wants to be fed
And everyone will be happy because Fido got chicken, and petted, and so forth.
Oviously there is no need for point two,
Because it should be very clear to you,
Lost HumansLook at all those empty faces,
Oblivious at first they seem;
Search inside and you will find,
That they've been left in many places
Have they a home, these
Maybe you've seen them on the streets,
Are they all right?
Now it's nightime; sleep; (these humans are simply lost reflections, left alone to wander in the )
A Rhyme of the LostThe computer is flashing,
Speaking to me,
Take me away,
Set my eyes free.
It has me in chains,
Though I am not bound
Text floats by,
and jumbles around.
Make my eyes blink,
Force my lids down,
Help me to think,
Pull up my crown.
Hit me like flesh,
Pull out a knife,
The computer is controlling me,
It has taken my life.
My Shadows are Following MeSunlight thrusts itself against the wall, and I run faster. I don't know what is more frightenening: that there are two of me, or that a body is chasing me. I am racing through dark allies, hoping to get away from the light, as it seems to be safer when the light is hiding. Determined, it does not hide for long, for its burning golden hands grope to reach me. When it does, I must run again.
The thing that chases me knows no gravity; it grasps my heels, and runs up the walls. At the very same time, my second body follows like a leech, rushing to my right and front, or even the left, copying everything I do.
They say these are my shadows, but I don't believe them. If they are shadows, then why are they alive? And why must they attack me all at once? Most shadows are content with just following one body, but these surround me from everyside.
I continue to run.
My shadows have run ahead of me.
Now they have stopped in front.
My shadows are following me, my shadows have left me. Somebody pl
The WindListen to the wind,
How it kicks the elder trees,
Hear it dance
beneath the clouds,
And kiss the falling leaves;
Like a wave it licks its prey,
Helps the wandering petals stray,
Sends the lost seeds on their way,
Guides the flying gulls to bay.
Turn an ear,
Bend you down,
Close your eyes,
Don't make a sound.
As the wind howls and sings,
Feel its laughter toss and ring.
As it whispers in your ear,
And rushes against the ground.
The wind is always angry,
The wind is always glad,
Its countenance is playful,
The same time it is mad.
It rushes like water,
And sometimes it is still;
Yes, everywhere it's different,
Obeying our Maker's will.
Who is this Doctor? ~5~ A Frenzied CrowdImagine the chaos. A burning sky, and an appearing police box! People were screaming, shouting, running, and all the things that people do in situations that demand calmness for rational actions.
One person was not at all sharing with the endless clamor, however. In fact, the woman who had stepped out of the police box had a rather far-away look in her eyes. Her dark, glassy pupils scanned the busy crowd in an elongating sort of way--her eyes glazed over the people like syrup frosts a cake.
Those who had seen the police box land--which were few--looked at each other in astonishment, but did not go over. The woman stepped out of the box, and elbowed her way though the frenzied crowd. Being small, it is a wonder that she was not knocked over, for despite her delicateness, she was not so tiny that she could slip between people in a panic.
Still, though she was pushed and elbowed, she got through, and she stood beneath the burning garage. Someone came over to her, and slid her away, scream
Prison of WindowsI am in a prison.
Rephrase--I am trapped.
In a prison.
I look out the window, and I see planets. They buzz like animals, spin like tops, smoke like fire; and yet the pane is cold.
The air strips are open. The floating roads are packed.
I am stuck in here forever.
The windows are so tall, I cannot see the tops. The windows are so long, that the bottoms race to the pits of the world.
I am a princess, locked in a tower.
Windows surround me from every side.
And yet nobody looks.
Who is this Doctor? ~ 4~ Let's Step OutsideI would like to take a moment to leave Ralf Weeze.
You must follow me, and there's nothing you can do about it.
Besides, I don't think you really want to see Ralf Weeze right now.
Let's go out in the streets.
"Down" to the streets would be a more appropriate description, perhaps, as the floating garage was, well, floating.
Let's see. Where would you like to stand? There's an elderly man over there. A woman is next to me, would you like to stand here?
My, the streets are simply buzzing with children. And with something else, as a matter of fact.
But I digress.
A child that could pass as either male or female, points its chubby finger at the sky.
"Look!" it barely articulates.
"Look!" everyone says at once, "the sky's on fire!"
You look at me.
"Hurry, and tell me what happens," you say.
There is a faint wheezing sound--it isn't Ralf, by-the-way.
And a wibbly, wobbly sound.
It is all a very timey-whimey situation. You see, a police box has just landed, and a girl has opened the d
Who is this Doctor? ~ 3~ Of Finding and Seekingspill
Black tidal waves swept across paper beaches. Ralf Weeze had spilled coffee all over his desk.
With a shriek, Ralf welcomed the dripping hot liquid on his skin. The oily drink seemed to be eating through the metal table, and papers were sizzling everywhere. It's amazing what things people will drink.
After he cleaned up the sticky mess, he remembered that it was almost time for him to go home for dinner.
Checking the clock screen that hovered in the air, he got up to see what his employee, Obadiah was doing. Until Obadiah was done with his assignment, Weeze would have to stay.
He walked through a hall piled with space junk on each side of it. Crawling up a ladder into the engineering room, the boss entered Obadiah's work space.
What he found was nothing, but something found him.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
The Vanity of This WorldI am sitting here.
What am I waiting for?
Do you hear footsteps?
The halls are silent.
I know they're silent, and I am lost.
No one has bound my hands,
My legs are free,
My mouth is free,
My speech is free.
If I wish,
I can roam the world.
If I want to,
I can sleep on gold.
There's a throne next door that I can sit on.
A footstool that I can rest on.
A palace that I can rule in.
Yet I have nothing.
Everyone has left me, you see.
Everything is gone.
I have all, and I have nothing.
I am not bound, yet I am not free.
The Earth is mine to wander, but I am alone.
Everyone has left, and I am in a prison of loneliness.
When will the guard of death set me free?
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