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The Ladder
This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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| #931 | An old mining tunnel is like life, unresistible with the urge to enter. Danger as the season's offer, same as the mean we lent her. _ |
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| #932 | Two robots at table pouring tea, one with no legs one with no arms. Where there's only one thing I can do for you, turn my head and wish for charms. _ |
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| #933 | And I also wish for growth of man, or less semblance of unique. And a blanket warm as a failed strand, storing the technique. _ |
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| #934 | It has no harp and it has no strings, and no heaven has heard it ask. And yet it stings those awful things, dance and it shall instantly pass. _ |
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| #935 | A gentleman cat doubled resting sideways, watching white bunnies flying undisturbed. If you don't mind I'll stay home alone, and paint gently if that's a word. _ |
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| #936 | For the women asleep on small platforms, halfway up walls dreaming heros. As we fade to black let the credits rain, so many names for zeros. _ |
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| #937 | A woman in Florida safely watching alligators, as she thinks about the importance of tools. Like a three foot globe of the earth on a desk, which is actually just a man's ass on a stool. _ |
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| #938 | And she upon the lane way, would walk to sights unknown. So trees would cast their shadows, so as not to be alone. _ |
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| #939 | I always never sometimes deny, I prefer to be the fool. The quieter naivety reveals itself, the more it neats the cruel. _ |
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| #940 | A hate filled person doesn't hate you, they just believe you can improve. Like a bubble that floats to a surface, you must take that their guidance is true. _ |
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| #941 | It's like a million loose square flat rocks, piled up into hills at a junk yard. It helps no one and the pay is small, but you get to end rhymes with leopard. _ |
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| #942 | Home oh how I love that word, I shall stray from it not one mile. Sunsets maybe wonderful anywhere, but at home they are not on trial. _ |
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| #943 | Not even the ten best door locks on the market, or a duplicate set one foot lower. Could stop the glees of the dear selfworths, or the presence of the thoughtful knowers. _ |
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| #944 | For women collecting fries at burger shops, from all deep fry tubs quickly. And the emotionless snails with computers inside, their accomplishments were just as tickly. _ |
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| #945 | Please do entertain that world, oh little unknown heart. Feed the tyrant stimulation, and then fear not its art. _ |
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| #946 | If only I could be a quitter, and reactions were that slow. Then all the world could be a sliver, in reaction to that toe. _ |
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| #947 | To know by ink and pixels, to stare at only paint. Two types of stimulation, and doors not for the faint. _ |
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| #948 | When of courses become just smart enough, to make hourfull gongs and drums. And the dawns become just smart enough, to use showerful longs and strums. _ |
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| #949 | Like a man living inside a small cabin, built inside an art gallery stopping to think. Might there be a surreal woman nearby, sleeping on a bathroom sink. _ |
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| #950 | Aw, I'm sorry. Well actually, I think I'm love. Don't you remember that turkey? Na! I don't hate the mud. _ |
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| #951 | First a coffee shop, then majestic wolves and horses. Third a frog in a protective cage, then unknown snakes and forces. _ |
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| #952 | Whew that was a close one. Man did you see that guy. He allmost asked a woman out. Thank god a breeze went by. _ |
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| #953 | A contract laborer working hard, at painting the sky blue for Michael Jackson. Knowing the balance and focal point, showing the art of inaction. _ |
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| #954 | For in it's way a voice is not, just as thought is yet so lonely. A word that rises to be heard, was wise as once known only. _ |
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| #955 | A man with no musical talent returning, an instrument packed in meat to a music class. His cartoon character front saying meekly, known reality hears his beeps but laughs. _ |
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| #956 | Two women large and small, watching man locked inside a santa suit. To only want to do what's right, women with keys to laughter mute. _ |
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| #957 | Now look closer but not too near, do you see the thoughts in thirds. Do not judge the drivers harshly, but can you see the speed of words. _ |
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| #958 | I stare at three 21 inch monitors, and bravely steer the nil. At an empty desk for thinking only, near some hours on a window thrill. _ |
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| #959 | Then one day through ultimate science, we heard the sun speak loud. Your garbage, was all it said, then all its actors bowed. _ |
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| #960 | Mouse eye view of a long stretch of highway, seen from below a passenger car door. Stimulation by zero or stimulation by infinity, to chose the one with more. _ |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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