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Do not go mental on the net all night,
Young kids should race across the fields and play;
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How do I love cheese? Let me count the ways.
I love cheese that yellow and orange and white,
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In eighty-two, did Chaka Khan
In stately pleasure-dome I see:
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What hoods these are I think I know,
They deal in drugs and steal your dough;
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Hey, Diddle Diddle!
Get your ass off my fiddle!
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(a/n: Sing to the tune of the "Dream Girl" song from the Freecreditreport.com commercials)
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A mock sonnet attempt, written in phonetics class not so long ago.
Ever so slightly my body trembles
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I wandered lonely as a ghost Between the ponderosa pines,
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Now I heard there was a lone hard cone,
A tasty treat and it chilled the bone,
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Shall I compare thee to an Autumn day?
Thou art more windy in the afternoon.
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I must go down to the seas again
to the beach where we buried my Dad
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Thou radish-faced tavern girl of lewdness,
Thou busty broad of loudness and a wild time,
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Strange fits of laughter I would get,
My rosy cheeks would glow,
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(The Beautiful Babe Without A Heart)
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Hail to thee, old Skylark!
Racing with a Dart
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Beware! for in the dew dropped grass,
are colored eggs emitting foul gas.
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Two broads emerged in the neighborhood,
And sorry I could not have them both
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If you can keep your head when all about you
Are chugging beer and sniffing pots of glue
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Love, lacking cold and hotage
content, crust, mess of potage
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A student of true beauty looks out onto the dance floor
(A Petrachan Sonnet)
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Life floods in waves, in waves ebbs keeps
ups, downs, and roundabouts,
some, salmon, leap, from most no peeps
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Rudolph the Red-Nosed Boxer
Had a very shiny nose,
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A secret sadness pains my heart whenever, with a smiling face,
we meet with others, scarce apart, in drawing-room or public place.
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Fame, fickle, tithes scythed victims. Actors’ knell
tolls far more frequently than curtain bell.
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Ends pointed, tusk spears.
Flanks walls, pack I derm trunk snake
ANSwer: tale’s trumpets awake.
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Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo
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“O, what can ail thee, stay-at-home, O nappy-changer muscle bound, with withered wedge beard, lips a-foam, frustration crowned ?
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I was hungry and lost to the world below,
To know why I left and fled ,
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All their world’s a page, and all the players Internet addicted, they have their resumés, their pseudonyms, each actor for a time plays man
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It coiled unknown, for few signs show when snakes’ eyes fix on thee, - but it’s transfixed my sole, and, oh, the difference to me !
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I wandered sick of gloomy clouds
That darken all the vales and hills,
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Hard work calls for rewarding rest, ideas fresh store in life's best.
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I've never cowed to purple prose I know I'll never write it, for each true writer always knows hand stretched finds critics bite it.
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