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Have you abandoned writing poetry?
or have you just been rolled over into one poet?
I miss the Cisco poems.

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I wish to be clever, or witty, or some other appealing adjective however it seems too taxing at the moment.
So I shall just leave a note on your doorstep saying "Hello, I was thinking of you."
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hey Cisco, 
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Ah Cisco, how I have missed you.

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Hiya Kid,
All is well with the family, my brother is living in Cairns now, so it was quite stressful but he is fine. He was working in Townsville at the time of the cyclone and drove back through the devastated area, he said for 100km’s he was just driving with his jaw dropped, couldn’t believe what it looked like.
True to the Australian spirit, the North Queensland residents most severely affected are still able to smile in the face of it; some photos in the papers such as a guy standing in front of his house, no roof and shit everywhere, and a sign hanging up on the wall saying “JUST LARRIED!!” Or the buckets of avocados for sale, the sign saying they were “Hand picked by Larry!”… there are also a lot of tears, livelihoods are lost, crops are wiped out, but church ceremonies giving thanks to God that no one was killed remind us all that life is bigger than material possessions...to lose everything but stand in Church giving thanks, to me I think that is quite amazing.
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 ♥  HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY SEXY!!  ♥ 
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hehe, stocking got well stuffed,  hope all is well with you...
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zara on December 24, 2005
Happy Holidays, Kid. May all your poems come true.
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I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and all the best for the New Year.
David
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Excuse me... is there a doctor in the house?? 
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You are a sexy bitch, Mr. Cisco.
Hope life and the ladies are treating you well.

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Howdy Mr. Cisco. How's your pulse this evening? Heh.
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Hasn't a jealous husband shot you yet?
You live a charmed life, Kid.
 Amy
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Oooh! That's just outstanding!
slippery glossy slopes of arms,
belly swells, and satin panties...
Yeah! Outstanding. Thanks!
~Cisco
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from The Cookie Cutter
. . . He loved the way the ladies’
Lazy wrists flicked like fish
Amongst the pink biscotti, loved
The way their shoulders slid
Into the slippery glossy slopes
Of arms, loved the belly swell
Inside their satin panties where
It flowed into the dells
And bushy dingles. And oh
He loved the winks
Their lashes sprinkled when
He nibbled at the milk ducts
Of their nipples. . . .
- Mildred Tremblay
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would i have it any other way? 
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Hahahaha! Damn, you know to arouse a guy, dontcha?
You still licking twats?
~Cisco
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call me bitch again and i'll bit It next time it is near my mouth.
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Thanks for your comments of late, I have missed seeing your thoughts on my pages.
Hey, I hopefully have some exciting news to share, when I know for sure I'll be back to tell you about it.
(lol, and no - I'm not pregnant..  )
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lmao Cisco..
that doesn't surprise me 
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 I thought I DID take you with me. (sigh) I better roll this guy over and see who he really is huh? hehehe 
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Cisco..man...come on I haven't seen you around in a while, you doin ok?

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you would smile
the movement of your lips as the first heavy rain
in a paralytic summer of drought
effortlessly quenching the thirst of malevolent silence and heat
the ground open wide;
bewildered
drinking to the promise of closure
a mouth parched and desolate from the years without you
- from "Mark Five" by Zaotik (AlPo's own)
Edited on Jun 11, 7:35 p.m. because 'Over zealous fingers. ::ahem::'.
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Sign Language
Her left foot high in the Ontario night,
she swings her white panties like a flag.
-Patrick Lane
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Hey how come you're cloaked?
I can't see you when you are cloaked. Edited on May 31, 4:09 p.m. because ''.
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Nothing much
For same or changed
Waters about the
Flower's stems
Old
Or new
They will run still
In this crystal
And never be
the riverbed.
Edited on May 26, 5:34 because ''.
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desperately seeking new Cisco
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big tits, fat ass, skin like buk's, yes
just your type

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Thank you for your kindness.
back at ya
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Hi there yourself cutie.
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Buk sounds so hopeless in that poem.
It's beautiful, though. Thank you.
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Primitivism
he could not escape
the wilderness. bark
encrusted his wine bottles.
his pencils grew fur
and howled. sentences
became wild eagles that
flew predatory patterns,
swooping out of a white sky-
page to rip apart field
mice-images, scurrying
for meaning. a carcass-
manuscript rotted on a shelf
or a hillside. he could
not tell the difference.
a bear-trap of ideas
snared him: he could
not poeticize
the country
and not become it;
his poems filling with
neanderthal nudes,
prowling punctuation,
snarling sounds, guttural.
- George Elliot Clarke
Edited on Mar 14, 10:42 p.m. because ''.
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You know..some would say we need more cowbell..I disagree
We need more Cisco, man ... 
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zara on February 14, 2005
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you remember ray gilliam? my old friend from chicago?
I used to marvel that nothing ever scared him. I asked him once
if he'd ever been scared in his life. he said yeah. just once.
he was pinned down on a beach in lebanon by machinegun fire
for two days. dead buddies on his right and dead buddies on his left.
machineguns shooting at him from in front. and behind him
was 8,000 miles of ocean between him and home. he said
whenever he raised his hand, someone would shoot at it.
he said he was afraid that day. real scared.
then he looked at me and said "now any time I get scared
I just raise my hand in the air, and if nobody shoots at it,
I tell myself that I've seen bad before, and this ain't it...
and I'm not afraid anymore.
I'm not afraid, cisco. are you?
hehehehe...
~travis
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come and join the Ham on RyeThe Bukowski group.
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CISCO KID ROCKS MY WORLD!!!!
LIX
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