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Here's a poem relayed to me by my friend British Chris

2 y's

u r

2 y's

u b

i c u r

2 y's

4 me

Of course we've prob. seen it before, but he is here insisting I post it, inquire if he may find a gf here, and if he should get a tongue ring. there i said it. HAPPY?!
 

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Some people have a fetish for death

like Gord Downie and his wherewithal.

He drives down corduroy roads,

and always leaves a lasting impression.

I like to write things that give cause enough to be silent,

and reflect upon whats been said.

I hope it is eloquent yet forceful

and strong enough to escape the narrow route thats been carved for it.

Some people like to write about things,

like Regan and her marmalade skies,

and her happy Saturdays and grilled cheese sandwiches.

I prefer to paint a picture of the insanities,

through the eyes of the detached.

Its like playing card tricks with the devil

and laughing hysterically when you reveal to him

that you knew what his cards were, all along.

And sometimes I make things real,

so close that you could swear you feel it

brushing past you in a crowd.

There? Did you catch it? The gnarled fingers

gripping your shoulder for a moment amidst the bustle

strong and firm, and every bit alive,

warming the skin beneath your shirt

then passing on with a smile

before you can turn your head.

That is where I reside, with Cordelia

looking out into the Prairie Sunset,

watching the wheat ripple in the breeze,

still golden beneath the dusk,

that's where I know I can laugh with the devil,

dance with the faeries,

and never once care if I am leaving

a lasting impression.
 

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Another day, another dollar

that's how I try to think of it anyway.

You have to I guess

otherwise you go crazy,

kindof like me

Whata they call it?

Stir crazy?

yeah, I guess that's what I mean.

Sick of the stillness

and the darkness,

of the situation I mean.

I'm sick of wishing I could just run out into the sun,

like other people do.

People, I understand people, it's my job, I have to.

I have to know everything thats spinning around in their heads,

all the time, especially when...

That's what made me crazy I guess-

knowing what they're thinking,

when the crack sends them reeling into darkness.

You know, it all depends on how you see it.

Some guys just do it, and that's it -it's over.

But I think of it like this:

you're born, right? and then someone kills you.

Well, in the same way that you can't remember anything

from before you were born,

then so can you not remember anything when you're dead, right?

So really, if you never knew you were alive,

then you were never really there,

and you're not missing anything-

and then it doesn't matter that much after all, does it?

So when I kill someone,

I'm not doing anything to them, really.

I'm just depopulating earth, a little.

Well anyway, now you know what makes me tick,

or at least what keeps the gears in the clock turning,

even after they've been clogged and choked with blood.

Really though,

it's not the guts that can jam the clock works,

it's the thoughts, that are ticking away

inside the heads of people

who suddenly find themselves

pinned down to a mounting board, like a butterfly

at my mercy,

knowing they will be exhibited-

an example

until either the clock stops ticking,

or everyone forgets

that they were ever there.

Tick tock.
 

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Apologies to all of you who have read it before, it is often used as my visiting card but this site has an introductions board for you to "hang" yourself in.

A PLEA FROM;

BOBBY THE CALF AND LARRY THE LAMB (HEAVENS GATE)

TO THE INNOCENT YOUNG CHILDREN OF THIS CRUEL PLANET

Dear Children,

When you next have meat for tea

Please think of Bobby and me,

We loved our green field and blue sky;

and did not choose to die

So when your family next shop,

you could all help to stop

the cruel killing of today,

by choosing to live the vegan way

You could close the factory farm

that causes us all so much harm,

and those other vile targets

the overcrowded animal markets

And what would be our finest hour ?;

closing the very last abbatoir.

Its too late for poor Larry and me,

for we sadly, were in your tea.

Thank you for reading our letter,

Bobby and Larry,

Heaven's Gate.
 

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Are you yet another animal loving hypocrite ?

Eating meat, drinking milk, purely out of habit,

If so, then the cap must surely fit !

Is this the kind of person you really want to be ?

Supporting so much hidden, callous cruelty,

If not; then why not set yourself free !

You could assume full control of your own mind,

Stop being so insensitively indifferent and unkind,

Stop being so conveniently blind !

You could become a more compassionate person today,

By travelling along the vegetarian > vegan way,

You can do it - do it today !

It's never too late !
 

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You think Im all perfect in the flesh

Well maybe its your minds you need to refresh

On the outside I might fit your perfect dream

But on the inside Im about ready to scream

Why cant anyone tell when they look at me?

The lost person inside that nobody wants to be

From my smile there may seem to be nothing wrong at all

The smile is a twisted lie im really about to fall

But i dont want your help because its too late

All the sadness and rage has turned to hate

And I wait for the last time i fall to the floor

and close my eyes and feel pain no more

This poem I wrote dedicated to a guy i met online that i hate he used to be a good friend.

What is it that makes you act the way you do?

My feelings for you are beginning to fade

Maybe your problem is just that

You never get laid.

Your idea of fun

Is treating people like ****

your self-righteous act

makes me want to spit

You talk about cutting me

with your knife

then you tell me your a different person

in real life

I find it hard to beleive

what your telling me is true

if your really a different person

then i dont know the real you

Of all the people

that i have met on the net

your the one

I want to forget

I will post more of mine later!

PeAcE
 

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Music is poetry, right? This is a song I wrote back in 96 when I first started thinking about leaving. It took me almost 2 years to get up the balls to leave..

I just realized that I never gave it a name

Always wearing a frown,

Face feels so low to the ground.

Old beyond my years

See you - Shed the Tears.

Strangers look like they know

A hole in my heart,

As deep as my soul.

'Fraid to release my fears,

See me - Shed the Tears.

(chorus fast)

And it's lonely here at home,

Not that great being alone.

I know it's somethin'

I have to do

Save Myself - Leavin' You

Save Myself - Leavin' You

I'll make it - Be happy someday!

But Lord I hope and I pray,

You'll be fine

Without me there,

You hatred is more than I

can

bear!

(break)

(slow)

Save Myself - Leavin' You

I've saved Myself Leavin' You!!
 

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Thanks. I have a book that I write songs in when I get inspired. What I find so sad about that song is I wanted to leave for so long but was intimidated into not doing it (until there wasn't any other choice). Poetry is a great outlet to release emotions. It doesn't even have to make sense to anyone but you
 

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What have I done

to deserve the treatment I get from you

I have tried to be a good friend

But it doesnt matter what I do

your razor sharp words cut into my soul

Leaving wounds that never go away

They dont hurt as much anymore

But these memories will always stay

You used to spread rumors

When you thought i wasnt near

And your whispers behind my back

I always hear

But maybe you just dont realize

or maybe just dont care

that you make going to school everyday for me

a living nightmare.

I wrote this a long time ago.
 

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I feel like I am drifting

through my life with no effect

I feel like the waves of the sea are carrying me away

and I keep drifting through this world of gray

I feel like I am drifting

farther and farther away from you

I feel like theres nothing to hold on to

to stop me from escaping you

I keep drifting and drifting

the wind keeps blowing me

farther and farther away

I dont wish to leave but I will someday.

Rage

Rage is like a deadly poisen

that flows quickly through your veins

making you sicker and sicker

until your life goes down the drain.

Rage is a flame that burns within

and when it gets out of control

turns to hatred

eating away at your mind and soul.

How do you put out this rage?

that only causes pain

Or how do you deal with the fact

that your slowly going insane?

Some of these dont have a name because I cannot think of one. If anyone has an idea and wants to share it thanks.
 

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This poem doesnt yet have a name either. it is about a girl at my school who always gets picked on and how i wish people would treat her with more respect.

You shout out your nasty comments

you throw gum in her hair

you talk about her like

she is not even there.

she pretends to not have heard

and looks the other way

shes fighting back silent tears

she hears everything you say.

You whisper and laugh at her becasue its fun

you know what your doing yet dont seem to care

if only you could see the wounds youve left inside

but you blindly continue to rip and tear

You dont include her in group activities

you leave her stranded

why cant you include her she might have a good idea.

yet you leave her abanded.

She might be thinking of suicide

this might be the last straw

you dont know what her life is like

you have never saw.

You treat her like this because shes "different"

but shes a human being just like you and me

Why cant you just accept the small differences

and treat everyone with respect, to the same degree.
 

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gad. it's makes me really sad that kids still haven't learned how to treat each other with respect. that **** was going on when *i* was in school. it's good that you are able to see past all that and be her friend, LC.

this one is untitled.

he come steppin, shady-foot and sharp

optic nerve hangin from an angle off the stars

he come walkin, feather-finger and sneak

past all the frontline "D" fences i can strewed 'round my bare racks

so he come lookin, all flightless and debeaked

check me out when i go bloody-foot down

he come seein across vista and view

he got a good eyeball though i didn't flick open all the lights

he think he gots something, a jewel or a rock

it could fit in my mouth if i wasn't full of cotton bats

he think he gots a joy gem he can shove all down in me

but olafactory and taste, i don't let nothin fill me when i'm full

tell him he gotta get lost. just tell him he gotta go

his choco-macular orb and empty thoughts

make a dark world slow.
 
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