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Watching My Mind Slip Away...
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• • • The Once-a-Day • • •
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Bluesound MQA stream not working for me
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Australia has Disappeared
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The Obituary Page
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Gotta Get Your Drink On
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Counting with Pictures
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What is the meaning of this?
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Bad Poetry
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The Dragons' Roost
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New Music
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George Carlin
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Stuff I've Said Out Loud
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Flower Pictures
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What Did You See Today?
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COVID-19
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Russia
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A motivational quote
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Pernicious Pious Proclivities Particularized Prodigiously
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Back to the 60's
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do you Twitter?
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"2000 Mules" movie purports to prove 2020 election was st...
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Poetry Forum
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Those Lovable Policemen
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Index »
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Bad Poetry
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Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 60, 61, 62 Next |
oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
May 13, 2022 - 8:04am |
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Part To Part Echoic minnesingers of the spirit realm Left the taste of rusty iron On the tip of my tongue Stayed by the bright sufferers And their broken arrows Embraced by the fear in autumn skies Enhanced by none but the weary When we dine by candlelight When we part to part the night With the gift of life in sight Such fear finds the means to an end Victory contrasts the shades of grey Till there illumes a new day Bound by no one, and nothing Frozen Back before the clock struck 1942 I was a nine-year-old boy, my brother eight, and my sister twelve. We lived a life protected from the war by a dirt road and endless pine trees. The soldiers from Ft. Bragg were always training in the deep woods and were a comfort, since in my imagination I could see rows and rows of black boots goose stepping toward our house to gather us up for a long trip. We didn't know then about where those trips went. The war was on the lips of the older ones; and in the shadows and the open spaces where all the older boys used to stand, walk, and run. It was in the way we used to save our toothpaste tubes and roll tires up to the depot on collection day. There was another war in those days, as I recall; or as recalls me. That dirt road was our world in a nutshell. We knew every tree, fencepost and ditch. We rode our bikes up to the pavement and down to the invisible borderline that separated what I was to learn about impoverished spirits from skin color and hair texture. My brother and I relished the insults hurled at the colored kids, especially that older girl, who passed through our territory on the way to their school, just up and over from our house. In our world they had their own doctor, their own school, their own church, and their own cemetery, where mysteriously a headstone or two would occasionally be toppled over. The fact that they shared the same dirt road, the same patched clothing, and the same stream for water never occurred to us. I doubt that it would have made any difference anyhow. One day my brother and sister and I were riding our bikes. My brother was riding on my handlebars and we were chasing our sister down the road. An old truck came sliding around the corner and ran over our sister, right before our eyes. My brother jumped off and ran home screaming, but I just stood there, frozen in time. The old colored man got out and stumbled around in front of his truck, and fell to his knees; sobbing and holding my sisters head in his hands. The next hour or so was a blur; my mother running up, crying. My oldest sister and her boyfriend yelling at the old man....too much noise to recall. The old man just stood there, as did I, alone, also frozen in time. My uncle was the county sheriff and showed up with his deputy and I remember them asking him a lot of questions and putting him in their car. All he said to my Mama was, "drunk." I never saw him again except in my frozen nightmares. He took from me the one person in the world that represented sweetness, and hope for something besides this dusty road and the war in my little nine year old head. About a year later, that older colored girl walked up our road as always with her little brothers and sisters. We hated them even more now, and we threw rocks at them and called the usual taunts. Through my tears I screamed "You killed my sister! You killed her!" She yelled back "well, she shouldn't have been in the road!" I was so angry that I screamed as loud as I could "NIGGER!!!" She turned around and glared at me and gave me the middle finger and said; "what is you, but that" ...Some wounds never heal. Never. Slavery of the spirit will follow a course along a dry river bed; through a treeless forest; into a birdless sky; within a vengeful heart. As the poet said, Life goes on within you, or without you.
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ScottN

Location: Half inch above the K/T boundary Gender:  
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Posted:
Apr 8, 2022 - 9:41am |
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oldviolin wrote: oculis prospiciens
Why? Why. He feels the time is right. He feels the fruit is ripe. He has his allies by default. He has his faulting lines. Distracting deflecting diffracting He has his faltered minds
He has his climate manifesto It's signed in iron and blood He has his soft boned adversaries mired in heaping mud. All is not forecast if nothing is ever square Derivative of focus set in fixed maculary stare Seeing is believing and belief? it isn't there not a polar symbol not a pallid prayer
Mastererery...or something  He has his climate manifesto It's signed in iron and blood He has his soft boned adversaries mired in heaping mud.
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Apr 7, 2022 - 12:21pm |
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oculis prospiciens
Why? Why. He feels the time is right. He feels the fruit is ripe. He has his allies by default. He has his faulting lines. Distracting deflecting diffracting He has his faltered minds
He has his climate manifesto It's signed in iron and blood He has his soft boned adversaries mired in heaping mud. All is not forecast if nothing is ever square Derivative of focus set in fixed maculary stare Seeing is believing and belief? it isn't there not a polar symbol not a pallid prayer
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Mar 26, 2022 - 9:39am |
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A man in his space, working with dead trees Bones of trees He speaks in terms of oak and poplar, cherry and black walnut, maple and pine Woody artful expressions like graceful and elegant, rich and forgiving, ease and relief ...grain Worn of hands and brow, the carpenter sculpted the shapes and shards of tree bones, lived long and darkened rings Of those he most loved, and refined their lines with the solemn fusions he carried in his heart...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Mar 11, 2022 - 2:57pm |
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Wordle
ANGER HAVEN PATCH BATCH MATCH LATCH SORRY
Anybody know what time it is?
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Nov 30, 2021 - 7:47am |
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It was the corner of E.Colfax and Humboldt Southwest I remember Cold Thanksgiving Colder that December Small room off the side shared it with my dog, a pallet, and a slide down on the parallel lines Offset beveled and conical splines Rounded men by bashing rocks falling down the mountain...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Nov 25, 2021 - 7:25am |
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Anything anymore sign the lease hit the door giving thanks metaphor
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NoEnzLefttoSplit

Gender:  
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Posted:
Aug 8, 2021 - 1:09pm |
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I was an ant at a time when time was unbent I walked my way through the maze fate had set but failed to note the roads without end the things that could have been were I made to think of them but I wasn't so there I was at the end of a life well spent, or so I thought, at the time
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Aug 8, 2021 - 12:53pm |
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Verse Two Plus B Part and Chorus
Just trying to keep it real ya'll trying to relate Keeping light prescribed not to pontificate Staying in the long view and living on the plain a black and white stand on a pallet blue pain (Let me proclaim! Let me explain! Let me exclaim!)
Been a hip hop life yo a hip hop life Changes come with strife it's a hip hop life...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Jul 17, 2021 - 2:35pm |
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A new way to measure wealth in other than accrued on paper or cyber systems of increasingly artificial intelligence might be in the satisfaction of status postponed until a guy or a girl or the ghost of either or even neither runs the express check-out 12 items max only please No checks. No chokes No bad puns. Holy smokes. So much fun So little time
Max Who?
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Jul 15, 2021 - 4:25pm |
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The Line Formed On The Sand Where Waves Feathered The Shore Are Littered With Bits Of Haste And Waste And The Broken Shells Of Broken Animals At Once Bathed In Foam And Salt And Silent Screams Of Meaning And The Ears And Eyes Of Innocent Children Yearning To Be Free Of Boundaries Under The Sun And Within The Music Of The Night Echoing Off The Open Sky And Reaching Down To The Bottom Of An Empty Well Called The Ocean Of Denial
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GeneP59

Location: On the edge of tomorrow looking back at yesterday. Gender:  
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Posted:
Jun 14, 2021 - 2:13pm |
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I saw the sun come up
I saw the sun go down
I had a coffee and drunk it down
It kept me up all night
Until the sun showed it light
And it showed me my plight
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Jun 12, 2021 - 3:54pm |
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Render me riddles Render me time Render me laughter as I'm waiting in line
Render me bread Render me wine Render me music in every rendered rhyme...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
May 24, 2021 - 1:10pm |
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Big Words And Things
A large black salamander guards the area of the spigot He seems satisfied there, under paving stones and incidental life water Not inconsequentially, his kingdom boasts survival
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GeneP59

Location: On the edge of tomorrow looking back at yesterday. Gender:  
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Posted:
May 23, 2021 - 5:25pm |
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So spank me already! I ate your chicken samich and drank your flat beer and binged myself on your cable. So spank me already I've been a bad bad boy.
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
May 23, 2021 - 9:04am |
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Under the tortured memory tree I saw you; you saw me Under the stain of pride and grief Trust is slain by rusted teeth Being hunger; bade the strife Beyond the tender breath of life For the love of tatters and broader shoals Wading the textured waters...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Apr 21, 2021 - 7:46am |
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Cardinal Seen
He comes to the feast every day fungal eye and matted crown His red feathered body bleached by disease His beak deformed and flaking Quietly I watch him struggle to crack sunflower seeds and listen intently to his joyous cheeps Marvelous the sight, I fret knowing he is not long for this world
Edit:
The weeks passed since those words He thrives Appearing as a miniature vulture, red feathered and completely bald now the growth from his upper beak at least an inch long he tips his head to the side and scoops sunflower seed, and ever so gently places it in the mouth of a female companion How? Why? Marvelously so
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Apr 15, 2021 - 9:28am |
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sick sad been had words and rhymes freedoms chimes lemons limes empty trains and empty talk acids rain on stammered walk a glancing blow a timing light four in the floor good Friday night based on not much these mud pies stick to gather the eye bone a tell of the trick...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Mar 30, 2021 - 11:58am |
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Like riding a bicycle, playing card clipped to the front forks with mother supplied clothespin. Like Steve McQueen's great escape; suddenly tangled in a barbed wire fantasy of freedom. Must have been the Joker...
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oldviolin

Location: esse quam videri Gender:  
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Posted:
Mar 29, 2021 - 7:04pm |
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Yeah I'm a bad boy, but I coulda been worse. Coulda scuffed your shoes, and wrecked your hearse. Coulda soured your wedding, and forgotten a verse. Just waiting for the ax to fall; that birthday you fell from the sky.
It goes this way; then darker. Then dark. Death on a street sign, then hitting the mark. Shadows of children; the sign of a spark. Three suns down, just under a stall. That birthday we fell from the sky.
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