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a bad God created
an imitation world?
by Philogos
31 lines, 36 comments,
on Jun 6 1:50 PM 2006. In Dark
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a ghost town
of people you can't see
by Philogos
34 lines, 21 comments,
on May 23 1:56 PM 2006. In Love
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cool shades of pine forests offer vistas
across the sun-showered Dee
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The girl at the ticket desk takes your breath away with her fresh face and low-cut blouse.
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“Georgie, Poopsie! Where are you? Georgie! Mommie knows you’re hiding in there!”
“Laura, honey, cut it out!” The familiar voice showed irritation. “I have an
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You lie in half light,
Cool and dreaming,
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The platform crowd waits, grey,
For a Technicolor hero
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In the quiet before sunrise the plain stretches away
indefinitely, into the morning mist.
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When you were young,
Did you aspire to Passion?
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When we were driving on the top
Then things were pretty flat.
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Us and them, you and me
Everyone must plant a tree.
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For people who are dismayed, unhappy and depressed.
by Philogos
14 lines, 44 comments,
on Feb 2 3:14 AM 2006. In Hope
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Brave men within are fighting for their lives.
As brave without, the Zulus charge and die.
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The talk at the club - of nothing else.
The sky hazy yellow with the heat;
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by Philogos
3 lines, 8 comments,
on Jan 11 3:38 PM 2006. In Humor
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The sun below the hills:
The valley sinks
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Brave, without bravado;
He spat in death's face
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Sleepless,
Watch the inexorable clock
by Philogos
48 lines, 10 comments,
on Dec 14 3:56 PM 2005. In Other
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Your garden,
Madame Sosostris,
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Loving you is a rat in me
He walks and gnaws
by Philogos
45 lines, 10 comments,
on Nov 27 2:57 PM 2005. In Love
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I LOVE you my DRLING Since first we met up I have been, like, STARVING to lick your sweet butter CUP Of kisses like
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We, who viewed Armageddon, Who,
from beyond our world saw its inevitable annihilation: We survive among the strangers.
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Come spring, and coy, amid the landscaped trees, <F
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(Doctrine vs Ritual round 959)
Of course it would be better
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A politician is a man Who, at elections, lies and stands
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There is no longer mystery
In their familiar wooden faces.
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Bite is what we lack
Bite is what we need
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Whose hands held it?
This humble piece of wood.
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As the sun-dried afternoon
Turns slowly into evening.
by Philogos
16 lines, 13 comments,
on Nov 5 5:27 AM 2005. In Other
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I sit and stitch and patch this threadbare coat
Repair the tears that years of wear have left
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