dignity go not thou out ma door

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it was 1753
the ole winch
drug home a pork
in a wet damp filthy bucket

entering our very door
i repudiated her,
 instructed her of
 the states of dignitity

the hundreds of years!

she worked to break-a me,
to win,   shoving crud
into ma soup

and lo
 today I smile at the dinner she serves
  scraps discarded by     folk nearby
    they going around the dancing ball




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shall I give up time

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do I really want to sit here for 18 more minutes
I could go out and beg and have cookies sooner
have cookies with chicken hackers

and tall blondes at the same cafe

I could go looking for 3-for-2 soup packets
sooner, or even take, alas, a walk with dogs and
gossipers explainin what happened

mold on the bread
Christmas snow melting
grass growing
flowers talkin
bells rollin on the hour

cryin takes days
so shall I wait or start now
shall I hold off on nutrition
shall I give up time




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pawned wedding rings

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made love to sock makers
stolen cash from pedestrians
punched arbitrators
felt sad for buried jeeps

bruised arthritis
volleyed lies
murdered momentous streaks in the sky
careened husbands from their paths

trainwrecked lyrical composition
destroyed singers lives
chokeheld vocal teachers
electrocuted microphones

accompanied funeral processions
pawned wedding rings
exchanged underwear
    didn’t even care

protected women and children
enslaved canadians
burned so many re runs
sped by checkout lines

oh wow, man, I’ll call george thorogood
and these are the lines he’s been looking for




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√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
perfect poem: bath bathing bird
√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√√
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rock solid hand

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he’s creating stuff
he’s creating so much stuff
maybe lamps that don’t explode
maybe bulbs that dorse glow

maybe sand

walking with his club foot
on the grass, twitching his
chin by drinking his handkerchief.
his rock solid hand, melted and
gooed, raises and drops every
time a fool-ly improvement
greets his ideas

He wont sleep
and then he’ll be low
and grab in hand a dear lady pedaling
by him,
and grieve the expression that he
believes in sand & can she
see it, might she support   sand
along with him



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war poetry: let the countries fight
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oil poured down the drain

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the knock on the front door was the rotten nun
  … …from our distress we did not be relieved

before I was to the door I could hear
her   eyes
        breath
into the face
of what is my family

consolingly   she reaches out her arms
A frying pan she prepared

she reaches out and hands my wife a dish she prepared

with the worst cuts of meat from the deadest of animals
and rice harvested in a garden watered in cess

she says o we need to eat

this dish fried
in oil thrice recycled
oil even from an old drain

and over it we must say grace




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the uppercase dee

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    It was a trash-talkin idea, but it had scope even so. The tunnel was well known everywhere in the area: it was very long, probably 2 and a half kilometers, and as soon as you come out you’re on a bridge that’s almost surely way way high in the mountainous region, with concrete columns extending downwards that I bet are too tall and about to break one day snap.

    The Darkness with the uppercase dee had surrounded the boy and his dog. They were hopeless now and it was best to give up. The boy, near 26,27 years old, loaded his own self and his dog into his car and headed to that tunnel. The idea was to enter it at a moderate speed and then open the liquor bottle and drink before reaching the exit end of the tunnel, and so surely by then he would be tossed fully. Once out and onto the bridge, he would slowly pull the car over to the side of the road, up against the guard rail. Drunk, he would get him and his dog, on a leash, out of the car, being careful to not get sideswiped by fast passing cars, and walk over to the edge and jump down. It’s hard to know if the boy would have comforted his dog as they were falling.




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doom-da

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trkam na kmet
iz to soba je the velik stink
res
  vem da kravosi imajo kaka
ampak dosti rečem dosti
  če levo in če desno
  da dosti
mogoči gospod boš žagal
  vse dol za the velik fire
in končan bo končan bo




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