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And I know that we'll just do this again
And I know that I'll just ruin another of your good days...
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I see a nation surviving, thriving upon that which is unnecessary because it is necessary to be free from what binds us daily.
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I’d really just like to talk Kerouac
Forget about CNN, tune out the WWF
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At some point I’d forgotten
That a seed will sprout regardless of what the birds have to say.
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read parts one through three first..they're all haikus, its easy
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the third in my series of "urban haikus" just a joke-don't take seriously.
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my angst and rant against the "urban" haiku.
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my angst and rant against the "urban" haiku.
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Suddenly it happened-
The warm summer breeze
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“The doctor will be
right in,” says
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I am out chasing
taxis, and pretending to search
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This is just a humorous poem that I wrote, but warning-because its written in short lines, it's long.
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Father:
Before we get started it is imperative for you to understand
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And you never understood exactly
what it is about you that makes me forget how to be a lady
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PDF assignment 7 (i think the title all on its own is more fitting to the picture than the poem)
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A very bad day
Has crossed my way
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Is the addiction incurable?
That of putting pen to parchment
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8 am
the torture of awakening from my sweet slumber
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What glory does the moon hold?
Be I worthy to see such sights?
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P.D.F assignment #6: a triolet inspired by Catullus's "Song Number 5 to Lesbia"
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And the artists take over the city,
painting it zebra with white tents and black streets.
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P.D.F Assignment 4 (late b.c I lost the paper I jotted it down on)
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And all the fancies in the world
Cannot solve these tangled riddles.
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Assignment 2 for PDF (updated, if you looked once, please look again)
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Innocence streams from her delicate touch
as she paints existence onto that which was blank
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Ugly dandelion, you’re
a poor man’s treasure
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waves on a beach, how
they drift about aimlessly
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drift about aimlessly
captivating in their calmness
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Is the addiction incurable?
That of putting pen to parchment
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Flame
capricious, yellow-orange
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Without suffering,
there'd be no compassion.
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Sing to me your sweet songs of lies
Enchant me with all of your charm
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Flame
capricious, yellow-orange
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