the repressed memories of iyan igma
TRANSCRIPT
The Repressed Memoriesof
Iyan Igma
The Abridged For Your Sanity Edition
Formerly known as Slightly Demented in its draft form.
Copyright 2008 by Iyan Igma
Original Copyright of these works would range between 19992001 when they were written.
Abridged for Your Sanity: 1st Edition, Paperback
ISBN: 1442128151EAN13: 9781442128156
Published by Iyan Igma via CreateSpace.com in Scotts Valley, CA.
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons AttributionNoncommercialNo Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/byncnd/3.0/us/or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.
In a nutshell, you are allowed to make copies and distribute it long as it is not altered or done for commercial use, and as long as you give me credit. Consult the license for further details.
Please Note that this is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual events or people is coincidental, unless noted.
Iyan Igma can be contacted through one of the following ways:● http://stores.lulu.com/iyanigma● www.iyanigma.com● www.createspace.com
A Work of Stupidity and Senseless Nonsense Commonly Derided and Labeled
Slightly Demented.Having Now Been Lost To The Author For Years, They Are As
The Repressed Memor ies
of
Iyan Igma
A gestalt work.
To Pat and Eugene Parker, good friends who preserved these memories and introduced me to Cake, one of my favourite bands, and George Harrison's
Brainwashed.
Jesse
You left me hereWhen I was only eleven.
When you were but that age,Your father went to heaven.
Six years have drearilyPassed since 1994.
But sometimes without youIt seems like a whole lot more.
A Note From 7 Years Later
When I wrote these things, it was in a dark period of my life spanning from about the end of my sixteenth to the beginning of my eighteenth years. I'd had some misfortunate encounters with death, health, love, stress, hypocrisy, and depression. I'd read the Bible and the classics a few times by then.
After overcoming this depression, I later grew disgusted with this work. My copy I burned, along with the unfinished manuscripts to nine novels of a series that I was working on, some journals, and other writings. I did not wish to remember that time of my life. Perhaps it can now be said that there can never be a Complete Works of Iyan Igma, since most of the original ones have been destroyed. It seemed as if this work was to be lost forever, as few copies were ever made. One was given to my teacher, Mrs. Buck , though I am uncertain how much of it she has, or if it still exists. Another continued with my family, though it met its untimely demise when the basement flooded. The sonnets and possibly some other excerpts were given to Katrine Templeman, though their continued existence is dubious. Perhaps Chris Shaffer, Brandon Cox, and Calvin Barefoot have copies or parts of it.
The copy that this was taken from was the 5th Draft of Slightly Demented, which was given to my friends Pat and Eugene Parker. We had lost contact over the years, and this work was as lost to me as their friendship. My mother had asked me if I still had a copy of a particular poem, “Waylay,” and I was fortunate enough that I finally heard from Pat about the same time in December 2007. After visiting with them for a while on Christmas Eve, 2007, I took the work home and began to retype it feverishly. I had not realized how much I had written. Nor did I realize how much my style has remained constant, and which themes would be unwittingly revisited in the last month of 2007 and first 6 weeks of 2008, as I wrote the majority of my new collection of poems and short stories, known as The Dementia of Iyan Igma. I was pleased to see what I would call some maturity and improvement in my later work.
Some parts are embarrassing, since I'm more of a Puritan than the Deist I used to be. Many parts are amazing to read. I wrote that when I was 16?
Oh, as a note, I didn't drink or do drugs at that time, and I cursed about as much, though this would probably not be reflected this work. It is clear that I was a youth in this, just look at the themes. Many parts were written for laughs, as is explained later. Several reference the Navy, which I was scheduled to join. Some, such as “Bombardment,” are striking to me now, since they were written long before this post 9/11 mess.
In the process of retyping this, I have only fixed the most essential errors. I have let the punctuation, grammar, and contrived words remain, since most were largely placed there purposefully in the beginning. The work will be almost as raw as the original draft, and hopefully I've introduced few typos in the process. I took out a redundant chapter page for the poems. The font has been changed. But over all it remains as intact as it was when I created it for the purposes that I described seven years ago on the following page.
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Pat and Eugene's copy will remain as the standard to judge the accuracy of this work by, and this edition will render their copy a more important possession.
There are far fewer footnotes than The Dementia, so use the glossary. There are some nice Easter eggs in it.
This abridged version of Repressed Memories is meant for more of a general audience, if that term could be said to apply. Several of the poems, many of the BSides, the autobiographical information, and a few of the prose works have been removed. Why? Because, simply put, they were horrible or unfit for consumption. Once you read the following works, you will start to wonder exactly how horrible they were. After all, could it really get any worse than what is already found printed here?
ENTRIESPoems: 354Prose: 75BSides: 40Words: 86,536±
The following were removed:Count, Comte, Earl; Lemon Dependence; Living with a Toe Nail; Kernel; Strange Things with Camels; Atnalta; Atnalta Revisited; Brian Johnson; The Creatively Named SAT; Tylenol BM; The Untouchables Commercial; Roller coaster; Crazy; Sinning Out; Speed; High Contrast Twins; The Dog; Kick me; Broom Sweeper; The Penguinnun; Crashing; Starting; O; Angle of Depression; Plummet; Crying; Rabid Scabied Chihuahua dog; Holy Rollers; Vultures and Condors; Chaste; Naked Mole Rat; 1 and 1 and 1 is 3; The Smell of Fresh Rubber; The Third Friend on the Outside; Treat Ladies...; The Quiet Before the Storm; In Sweden There Are No Tow Truck Drivers; most of the Really Awful One Liners; and some of the Some Less Than Interesting Thoughts....
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On the Nature, Intent, and Audience of These Documents
This collection is not intended for the public at large. It is not intended to create controversy and thereby sell copies to those who would madly rush to consume it for that reason alone. It IS for myself, to point as a guide of future reference as to how I thought at that dark period of my life known as preadulthood, a time that, like the “dark ages” of Europe, may one day be forgotten like the infant years before it. It is also partially for some friends and close acquaintances who enjoy some of the stories and such oddities contained herein. I do not expect them to read all of it. I do not expect them to like all of it. I, myself, do not like most of it, but it is my thought, as much as I could manage to capture, and I have some accurséd desire to write and to preserve; a pack rat even of the unspoken.
Some things to keep in mind while reading are that there's quite possibly some sarcasm and satire, that the usage of “an” is gratuitous and not a typo, and that the “I” in some poems is rarely Iyan Igma. The poetry should be read aloud and, despite what's been advised, line by line. Also, to any who reads the following and feels that something within might be said to address them, then I suppose it does. For even though I maybe mean one thing, everyone is entitled to interpretation.
I would like to apologize to any reader who may be offended, myself included. There will doubtless be a passage that will offend anyone who reads far enough and takes too much of this seriously to mind. My only advice is read any parts you may enjoy, commit those to memory, and read nothing else. Ignore those that offend. I feel the need to further apologize for grammatical mistakes, and such; this is meant to be a raw work of feeling and youth and not a commercial ploy intended for the bedsides of the world to chew like bubblegum pop. Sadly, there is e'en a small amount of disgusting, poppy nonsense within; thankfully I am not proficient in its generation. Lamentably, I am skilled in writing senseless nonsense such as the tripe that will follow and in committing the sin of misspelling. Granted, most of the misspled words are so by choice, but many do not approve. Due to the unpolished diction and the topics, Slightly Demented is truly a childish work. But what could you expect from something with such a title and no true unity of thought?
The audience by age of this is currently about fifteen and up. I know that I would not want many kids reading this, and, thankfully, certain limitations such as vocabulary and experience may block them from full comprehension, should they stumble upon this eyesore. Again, I would like to apologize for constructing something which, while having a few good points in my opinion, suffers from the stings of certain obscenities and perversions. To read this, the poor lads must take the good with the bad, or, if they are lucky, discover the good in excerpts contained elsewhere. Some teens get a kick from certain collections of phrases, but, as happens, they will not enjoy them as much when older.
To any other reader who happens to pick this up by chance, reference, or, heaven forbid!, school, may God have mercy upon your soul. I mean that in the nicest possible way; you do want Him to love you, don't you?
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Repressed MemoriesPoetry....................................................................................................................................22
The Tragically Departed........................................................................................................22Chapter I Lacking a Sensible Title.......................................................................23
Nature Lover...............................................................................................................................24Fiend............................................................................................................................................25Graveyards...................................................................................................................................26Dear Freud...................................................................................................................................27Sycamore......................................................................................................................................28Toilet Seats..................................................................................................................................29Entrance Exam............................................................................................................................30Call of the Wild Vikings..............................................................................................................32Heavily Medicated.......................................................................................................................33On Monday..................................................................................................................................34Regularities..................................................................................................................................35Hypothetices................................................................................................................................36Nu Mecksìckö..............................................................................................................................37Donkey on My Thigh...................................................................................................................38
Chapter II Why Angels Scream............................................................................41The Goodwill of Death................................................................................................................43The Goodwill of Death (Original)................................................................................................44The Gunslinger.............................................................................................................................45Contempt of Court.......................................................................................................................46Invitation....................................................................................................................................48Eibmoz.........................................................................................................................................50Hypocrisy, Revengeance Thereon..................................................................................................51All Their Wildest Dreams............................................................................................................53Venules.........................................................................................................................................54
Chapter III As Things Should Be.........................................................................55Santa Anna and His Elves..........................................................................................................56About Time..................................................................................................................................58Let's Burn Venice........................................................................................................................59Satire Is the Way of Life.............................................................................................................60
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Commit Murder............................................................................................................................61Medieval Cures............................................................................................................................62The Origins of the Orthodox Church............................................................................................63The World Will Get By...............................................................................................................64Enlightenment.............................................................................................................................65Fatalist by Nature (Pacifist at Heart).........................................................................................66The Conquistador's Beard.............................................................................................................67Stood Up......................................................................................................................................68A LongWinded Oversight, 12 Lines...........................................................................................69Gallantly Priceless.......................................................................................................................70Bitter Cloning, Tragic Mould.......................................................................................................71A Cool Drink...............................................................................................................................72Well, Have You?..........................................................................................................................73Mommas.......................................................................................................................................74Criticisms and Bitterness.............................................................................................................75Apology to the Underappreciated................................................................................................76
Chapter IV As Things Are....................................................................................77On Making Beds..........................................................................................................................78Nuclear Fiend..............................................................................................................................79Somewhat Free Verse on Socialism..............................................................................................80Cliché............................................................................................................................................81Spangles.......................................................................................................................................82He Who Said Never.....................................................................................................................83Lacking Style or Era or Form......................................................................................................84You've Created.............................................................................................................................85Everyone Is Changing..................................................................................................................86No Controversy............................................................................................................................87PsychoPhysiological Disorder.....................................................................................................88Warsaw, Romance Therein...........................................................................................................89Cur...............................................................................................................................................90Fame............................................................................................................................................91Consensual Fornications..............................................................................................................92Portraying Disrespect: an American Scene..................................................................................93Gnashing Hurt.............................................................................................................................94Lust Is in Desire..........................................................................................................................95Bryant Jennings...........................................................................................................................96A Quiz.........................................................................................................................................97Oh Fudge.....................................................................................................................................98
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Sickening......................................................................................................................................99Cinema Trivial............................................................................................................................100Dark Blue Pride.........................................................................................................................101Bagels (Lenders).........................................................................................................................102Bee Ess.......................................................................................................................................103Face in Curtains.........................................................................................................................104Eye of the Beholder....................................................................................................................105When You've Slept.....................................................................................................................107Bitterness Ruins.........................................................................................................................108Humility.....................................................................................................................................109Long, Narratively Sporadic Poems.............................................................................................110Bringing on Contention.............................................................................................................111Profitable...................................................................................................................................112Decaffeinated Blue....................................................................................................................113The Steel Decanter.....................................................................................................................114Nylon Pant................................................................................................................................115Twos...........................................................................................................................................116Surreal Killer..............................................................................................................................117Better Vision..............................................................................................................................118
Chapter V Urea...................................................................................................119Elf..............................................................................................................................................120Odd Sensation............................................................................................................................121Venice........................................................................................................................................122Vegetable Love...........................................................................................................................123Adam's Rib................................................................................................................................124Worldly......................................................................................................................................125Waylay.......................................................................................................................................126Without the Words....................................................................................................................127Cold Sins....................................................................................................................................128Digestive Processes....................................................................................................................129An Idyll Goddess Whom One Cannot Help But to Revere........................................................130Venice.........................................................................................................................................131S. Mooching...............................................................................................................................132
Chapter VI To You..............................................................................................133Nothings....................................................................................................................................134Shour Drapes.............................................................................................................................135Ashore........................................................................................................................................136Golden Tips................................................................................................................................137
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Tripping Up...............................................................................................................................138To Differ....................................................................................................................................139Olivia.........................................................................................................................................140Olive...........................................................................................................................................141Onion.........................................................................................................................................142Weakening.................................................................................................................................143Vanguard...................................................................................................................................144Entitlements..............................................................................................................................145Fleece.........................................................................................................................................146Unrestrainéd Passion Prevents Clear Thought...........................................................................147Addiction on the Mind..............................................................................................................148Expected....................................................................................................................................149Volve..........................................................................................................................................150Groggy Mumblings.....................................................................................................................1511280x1024x32bpp.....................................................................................................................152Demanotation............................................................................................................................153Curiae.........................................................................................................................................154Moors.........................................................................................................................................155Pebbles.......................................................................................................................................156Sri Lanka...................................................................................................................................157
Chapter VII All My Friends..............................................................................158To the Dearly Regarded..............................................................................................................159Golden........................................................................................................................................160You So Mean..............................................................................................................................161Nice in a New Year's Kind of Way............................................................................................162Musician....................................................................................................................................163I'm Sorry....................................................................................................................................164Lump of Clay.............................................................................................................................165Walnut Shell..............................................................................................................................166Empty Crush..............................................................................................................................167Makes Me Sick...........................................................................................................................168Self Destructor...........................................................................................................................169Insults on the Trampoline..........................................................................................................170Pecan Man.................................................................................................................................171Genetically Engineered...............................................................................................................172Braggart of Unworthy Boasts...................................................................................................173Take It, Easy..............................................................................................................................174Prejudice Fades...........................................................................................................................175
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
A Return to This Nothingness....................................................................................................176Mea Culpa..................................................................................................................................177Penguins on My Own................................................................................................................178Tally...........................................................................................................................................179Burned Out Beacon...................................................................................................................180Taste in Decisions......................................................................................................................181For a Split Second......................................................................................................................182.Jpg............................................................................................................................................183E'ery Thing Changes You...........................................................................................................184Pampers......................................................................................................................................185Packaging...................................................................................................................................186A Mus........................................................................................................................................187Poetic Interference.....................................................................................................................188Fact Smiles.................................................................................................................................189Pluto and Charon.......................................................................................................................190Feef............................................................................................................................................192Will............................................................................................................................................193Upon Awakening.......................................................................................................................194
Chapter VIII All Things Great and Small.........................................................195Gluck.........................................................................................................................................196So...............................................................................................................................................197Joshing? Me?.............................................................................................................................198A Philiac's Metamorphoses........................................................................................................199
Chapter IX Haiku's for No One..........................................................................201Sweetness...................................................................................................................................201Silk.............................................................................................................................................201Conditioner................................................................................................................................201Pools...........................................................................................................................................201Lips............................................................................................................................................201A Taste.......................................................................................................................................202Tegument...................................................................................................................................202Thermal Need.............................................................................................................................202Llama.........................................................................................................................................202Camel.........................................................................................................................................202Indecencies.................................................................................................................................202Necking......................................................................................................................................202Objectivity.................................................................................................................................203Thailand.....................................................................................................................................203
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
A Doll........................................................................................................................................203A Right to Bear.........................................................................................................................203Obelisks......................................................................................................................................203Washington...............................................................................................................................203SemiVery Precious....................................................................................................................203Singing How She Does..............................................................................................................204Licking? Good............................................................................................................................204Placement...................................................................................................................................204Jojo.............................................................................................................................................204Maybe........................................................................................................................................204
Chapter X Travels................................................................................................205Bridges.......................................................................................................................................206Mendeleev..................................................................................................................................208My White Love.........................................................................................................................209Fief.............................................................................................................................................210Deflowering Fields....................................................................................................................211Ruins of the Present Day...........................................................................................................212You No Be Existing...................................................................................................................213Geneses.......................................................................................................................................214An Abbey Row...........................................................................................................................215
Chapter XI Weed.................................................................................................216Strawberry..................................................................................................................................217Dreaming In...............................................................................................................................218PinkScarred Skies......................................................................................................................219Star............................................................................................................................................220Wild...........................................................................................................................................221Split Apart.................................................................................................................................222War of the Roses........................................................................................................................223Supernova..................................................................................................................................224Meteors Must Land Somewhere................................................................................................225
Chapter XII Pelham Renaissance.......................................................................226Omnivenicient............................................................................................................................228Why Do I Always Hear Screams...............................................................................................230Erroneous Misconceptions.........................................................................................................231Armed Forces.............................................................................................................................232
Chapter XIII Perfection.....................................................................................233That Which Offends Due to Its Unquestionable Filth.............................................................234
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Perfect Idealist...........................................................................................................................235If I Were Omniscient.................................................................................................................236The Perfect Couch......................................................................................................................237Perfect Image.............................................................................................................................238
Chapter XIV Social Ills......................................................................................239Generation of Suckers................................................................................................................240Armed Boxing............................................................................................................................241Lusting......................................................................................................................................243Defamation................................................................................................................................244In Heat......................................................................................................................................245Take It from the Top..................................................................................................................246Cereal.........................................................................................................................................247Envy Me, Fools.........................................................................................................................248Artificial Drinks........................................................................................................................249Improvements.............................................................................................................................250Chumps.......................................................................................................................................251Eyece..........................................................................................................................................252Not Just a Name........................................................................................................................253A Friend, A Fan, A Wouldn'tBe Lover...................................................................................254
Chapter XV Seasons of Christianity...................................................................255The Falling of the Leaves..........................................................................................................256Already Got One?......................................................................................................................257Services......................................................................................................................................258QuasiCultural Perspective........................................................................................................259Being Made in the Image of a Deity, and Other Examples of Utility......................................260Role Model.................................................................................................................................261Pardon, Could You Spare Some Assistance?..............................................................................262Defense of Clones, Not of Cloning.............................................................................................263Jesus the Polygamist..................................................................................................................266Basking and Asking...................................................................................................................267If Deists Were Deer...................................................................................................................268A Condemnation, Like Many Things (I Write).........................................................................269Nigh Bouts................................................................................................................................270
Chapter XVI Sin Colored Glasses.......................................................................271She Wore Smiling Flowers.........................................................................................................272Dreaming the Sweet Dream.......................................................................................................273Silent Thief.................................................................................................................................274A Banana...................................................................................................................................275
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Truth of all Bananas...........................................................................................................276One Simple Blunder...................................................................................................................277Real World.................................................................................................................................278Fear The.....................................................................................................................................279Fear Is.......................................................................................................................................280Fear In.......................................................................................................................................281Fear For.....................................................................................................................................282Alien Nation..............................................................................................................................283Amnesia.....................................................................................................................................284Pax Gaea....................................................................................................................................285Voice of Temptation...................................................................................................................286
Chapter XVII Crime to Smile.............................................................................287I'm a Wussy...............................................................................................................................288Navy..........................................................................................................................................289The Jest......................................................................................................................................290Laughter's Medicine..................................................................................................................291Why I like Penguins Better.......................................................................................................292Slave..........................................................................................................................................293Am I Nothing Then?..................................................................................................................294Little Girls.................................................................................................................................295Bombardment.............................................................................................................................297
Chapter XVIII Spectacles for Love....................................................................298A Million Miles.........................................................................................................................299Adam et Eve..............................................................................................................................300Loved.........................................................................................................................................301Love Like Tow'ring Hands........................................................................................................302If................................................................................................................................................303Breaking Up..............................................................................................................................304Regret.........................................................................................................................................305And She Was Crying..................................................................................................................306To Forgive..................................................................................................................................308Forgive.......................................................................................................................................309Forgiveness.................................................................................................................................310An Eye for a Cry........................................................................................................................311Communicate..............................................................................................................................312Spastic........................................................................................................................................313No One.......................................................................................................................................314To all the Ones...........................................................................................................................315
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Eulogy........................................................................................................................................316Chapter XIX Loathe............................................................................................317
How Do I Loathe Thee..............................................................................................................318Cast Your Tears..........................................................................................................................319Eva Rhea...................................................................................................................................320Mute..........................................................................................................................................321Souleful Compassion..................................................................................................................322Malicious, But True...................................................................................................................323Paint Thinner Chips...................................................................................................................324CurAid......................................................................................................................................325Illegitimate Father.....................................................................................................................326
Chapter XX ¡Wow!.............................................................................................327Hamiltonian Perversions............................................................................................................328Mercen.......................................................................................................................................331Procreatory Success....................................................................................................................332
Chapter XXI Sellout...........................................................................................334Brutally Honest.........................................................................................................................335M. Poster Boy............................................................................................................................336Privation....................................................................................................................................337Concise Interruptions................................................................................................................338How Truly Weird It Is Others Can See My Words...................................................................339The Zenith of Oblivion..............................................................................................................340Disdain from Wittenburg Castle................................................................................................341Hardly Deep...............................................................................................................................342Dialectal....................................................................................................................................343Wary..........................................................................................................................................344
Chapter XXII Secret Agenda Man.....................................................................345Meticulous.................................................................................................................................346I Wish I Could Say No..............................................................................................................347Whispers....................................................................................................................................348W Turn Off the Lights..............................................................................................................349Retrograde Amnesia...................................................................................................................350Grade.Average............................................................................................................................351It Started In December..............................................................................................................352Some on My Eighteenth Year....................................................................................................353Pods for Transportation.............................................................................................................354Always the Exception................................................................................................................355
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
I Never Claimed I Was..............................................................................................................356Meaningless Depression.............................................................................................................357Dead People...............................................................................................................................358Spellings.....................................................................................................................................359Depths of Dubious Deception...................................................................................................360GroundLovers...........................................................................................................................361Inkéd Blood's Transpiration......................................................................................................362No One Ever Notices.................................................................................................................363Ireun..........................................................................................................................................364Myself........................................................................................................................................365Packaging Peanuts [Safety].......................................................................................................368Without a Mind's Eye...............................................................................................................369Amoebic Pseudopod...................................................................................................................370Infallible....................................................................................................................................371
Chapter XXIII Doors..........................................................................................372A Valediction: Truth..................................................................................................................373A Valediction to Innocence........................................................................................................374A Valediction: Forbidding Morning..........................................................................................375To What Was: a Valediction.....................................................................................................376It's the Goodbyes That Count....................................................................................................377Dark Blue..................................................................................................................................379
Prose...................................................................................................................................380Chapter XXV..............................................................................................................................381Bananas.....................................................................................................................................381Bananas Revisited....................................................................................................................382Messy Breakup..........................................................................................................................383High School Love.......................................................................................................................385High School Love: 2...................................................................................................................386Death Rides a Green Bicycle......................................................................................................388A Tall Smooth Shaft..................................................................................................................391If Deer Were Deists...................................................................................................................394AA Meetings..............................................................................................................................397Sleepy Date................................................................................................................................398Santa..........................................................................................................................................400Knowledge and Excommunication............................................................................................401The Naked Mole Rat and the Penguin.......................................................................................402Pygmy........................................................................................................................................403Scales.........................................................................................................................................404
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Ground Beef...............................................................................................................................405Mandibles..................................................................................................................................407The Pimp and the Pheromone Rose Garden................................................................................408In the Off Season.......................................................................................................................409
Chapter XXIV Letters and Epistles....................................................................411Literature Springs from Bloodshed............................................................................................411If Adam and Eve Were Greek....................................................................................................412The Sexuality of Virgin Olive Oil (and Other Perishables).........................................................412Truth about Bambi....................................................................................................................413The Real Story of Frankenstein..................................................................................................414Organic.......................................................................................................................................415I'm Here for You.........................................................................................................................416Some Thoughts on Female Brain Shrinkage...............................................................................417Just Because You're Out of the Valley Doesn't Mean the Hill or Mountain Is That Great......417Mothers Know Because of Chromosomes”.................................................................................418Genetics......................................................................................................................................418Extinction..................................................................................................................................419Is Nature Alive..........................................................................................................................419The Appropriateness of Hymen..................................................................................................420On Vampires...............................................................................................................................421Why the Irish Fight...................................................................................................................422Misunderstandings Expand the Vocabulary.............................................................................422Balances of New Ideas..............................................................................................................423Innocence to Corruption to Mindset.........................................................................................424Innocence Left Unattended......................................................................................................424A New Brave World..................................................................................................................425Men Should Be Islands.............................................................................................................426Humans Are Not Made to Be Alone..........................................................................................427Banana Republic........................................................................................................................427Conscience..................................................................................................................................428Reflections upon My Shrinking World......................................................................................429Death.........................................................................................................................................429Death, Part 2: Processed Meat..................................................................................................430Television...................................................................................................................................430Friendship..................................................................................................................................431Beggars Are Choosers.................................................................................................................432Infection....................................................................................................................................433Just Say No................................................................................................................................433
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
No More Heroes.........................................................................................................................434The Future Is Escape and Death...............................................................................................435Truth Is the Worst Sin...............................................................................................................436Why a Trapped Animal Is the Most Deadly.............................................................................436Which Murder Is More Unnatural?..........................................................................................43750% of the Right Choices...........................................................................................................438The Once and Future Innocence................................................................................................438Religious Prejudice.....................................................................................................................439Terrorism....................................................................................................................................440The Joys of Sin...........................................................................................................................441Cult............................................................................................................................................441AntiAgnostic............................................................................................................................442Think You're In Love.................................................................................................................442Friendship: Again......................................................................................................................443Huh............................................................................................................................................443
Chapter XXV Lewd Reference Dictionary.........................................................444Some Reasons I Like Computers More Than the People That Operate Them.............................446The New English Handbook for Starting and Maintaining Your Cult.....................................447Advice for/During the Wooing of a Woman.............................................................................449
Some Less Than Interesting Thoughts, Musings, and Not so Witty Banter to Ponder or to Spout in Everyday Conversation................................................................................................451Widdles......................................................................................................................................455Shots..........................................................................................................................................464
BSides................................................................................................................................465Chapter XXVI BSides.......................................................................................466
Life............................................................................................................................................467Dressing Up...............................................................................................................................468Circumstance..............................................................................................................................469Rego...........................................................................................................................................470Screw the Farmers! <There's More of “Us” Anyways>..............................................................471If Kept Busy..............................................................................................................................472Planning.....................................................................................................................................473Love............................................................................................................................................474The Jungle..................................................................................................................................476Set Me........................................................................................................................................479Repression..................................................................................................................................480The Black Rose...........................................................................................................................481Sing Along.................................................................................................................................482
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Independence.............................................................................................................................483Almost........................................................................................................................................484Bloodstained Tears.....................................................................................................................485Everyman...................................................................................................................................486Left in the Weeds......................................................................................................................487Manic Depressive......................................................................................................................488Masochism Schism.....................................................................................................................489My Fellow Americans................................................................................................................490Not a Night for Love.................................................................................................................491On the Back of a Sign................................................................................................................492Sorrow's Song............................................................................................................................493Dinner........................................................................................................................................496Tucked Away in the Silent Corner..............................................................................................497The Last.....................................................................................................................................498Tears to Set Love.......................................................................................................................499Immobilized Victim...................................................................................................................500Lingering....................................................................................................................................501Why?.........................................................................................................................................502Cry.............................................................................................................................................503Groan.........................................................................................................................................504Wide Open Eyes........................................................................................................................505Separations................................................................................................................................507Bloodstained Hands...................................................................................................................508Out of Touch..............................................................................................................................509Disadvantages/Advantages.......................................................................................................510His Own Island.........................................................................................................................512
Appendices..........................................................................................................................513Thesaurus/Glossary of Terms Used Herein................................................................................514A Commentary...........................................................................................................................545Thoughts on Slightly Demented.................................................................................................553ABOUT THE AUTHOR..........................................................................................................555
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Here Beginneth Var ious Works of Poetry
As Followeth Art In IllDefined Chapters
The Tragically Departed
This is dedicated to the tragically departed;The ones who had to leave when, alas, their lives had only started.This is dedicated to the ones we all shall miss,Whose kind souls and pure camaraderie filled our souls with bliss.This is dedicated to the ones who've passed away;They're singing with the angels now where it is ever day.
There once was a young promising scholar at my schoolWho had a light heart indeed, yet was no one's fool.John Ross Collins was sorely mourned when his candle burned out,But his legacy of wit and wisdom shall be with us these years throughout.J.R., we really miss you and hate the gun that took you awayVia unfortunate circumstance to be with the One to whom we pray.
Often it seems one doesn't realize how one cares for those around,And, sadly, through departure the depth of care is found.
Shirice was gifted and endowed with the ability to draw,But it was, perhaps, not this but her strength and kindness that friends saw.If she were here upon this day, there is no telling what she would say,But it can be appreciated of Ms. Travis that she saw in many shades of gray.It was dark and desolate when the winds came in all their mightTo escort this dearly beloved to where cometh no night.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Chapter I
Lacking a Sensible T it le
It seems I've found somethingWhich I never thought I'd lost.It was at the barrel's bottomUnder brick layers of frost.
5 I rejoiced to rediscoverThis gift that was gone,But where did I place itWhen I answered the phone?
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Nature Lover
“Love mother nature!”Were the words that he heard.Immediately he went outTo do bad things with a bird.
5 It's okay in the SouthTo love nature—your mother.But it's rather risqué1
To love one's oaken brother.He was raised in climes
10 That bred incest;It was only natural he fondledHis piney sister's knotty breast.This dendrophiliac2 was eventually found.“I was loving nature!” he cried.
15 “Which is why we're bringing you in;The goat's died.”
1 Risqué: racy or naughty2 Dendrophiliac: an intimate lover of trees
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Fiend
I had sex with an alien,But she was over sixteen.So everything was kosher3,You know what I mean.
5 It may have been an abduction,But it was not rape,For I gladly consented;Even got the whole thing on tape.To me there's nothing like
10 Greenspeckled blue skin.Just pondering over itMakes me desire it again.She really liked my pants,Was dying to get in;
15 I took them off, andThat's when the magic did begin.Now I'm bearing our love child,But the judge says I get no palimony4.I guess he doesn't believe in aliens
20 And thinks I'm some kind of phony.
3 Kosher: okay4 Palimony: payment made to support a former intimate
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Graveyards
Graveyards are by far theWorld's most romantic places.There is nothing quite asThrilling as rotting faces.
5 Mausoleums are quiteLike a private hotel;An cultured girlWill not mind the smellOf rotting death and
10 Granite and dew.If she's squeamish bringHer flowers or glueTo sniff. Grab a meal andConverse before you take a walk
15 Around, because you'll be tooPreoccupied to wish to talkOnce emotion takes holdAnd you lie to rest onA plot that was sold
20 To some other being.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Dear Freud
Dear Freud, I don'tRecall us ever having met,But you would analyze meMore than I could possibly forget.
5 Some might call me slightly demented,You might call me male;But at least I don't have envyOr the libido of a snail.If everything's connected
10 As you believe,Then there are no levelsOf perversion I cannot achieve!
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Sycamore
I put my love in a sycamore treeTo let her sobre out,For she breathes jack o' the danielsAnd is a drunken lout.
5 I put my love in a sycamore treeBecause she likes to scream and shout,But, when I climbed up to bring her down,She tried to push me out.I put my love in a sycamore tree,
10 But she didn't seem to care;All that she did was ignore meAnd play with the birdies there.I put my love in a sycamore treeWith the winds and rains and snow
15 Blowing harshly around her ears,But none of this phased her, though.I put my love in a sycamore tree,Perchance I should've put her in a bush.For now, when I try to talk ,
20 She but merely tells me “shush.”I put my love in a sycamore tree,And I regret the day I did;For my love jumped right out,Ran away, and hid.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Toilet Seats
An old man caught me by surprise one dayWhen on a pier he thumped my thigh.I spun about from fishing inquisitivelyAnd found an odd look in his eye.
5 It seemed rather glazed over, andThe other orb was of plain brown wood.The effect and expression his repelling eyesAchieved, no crosseyed kid's could.My moment of awe was interrupted
10 When his glazed eye began to danceTo each forceful syllableThat he uttered in his trance.He went into convulsions,Snapped out and said, “Please,”
15 Something or the other;The rest was in Vietnamese.I was going to seek a new fishing spotWhen he spouted his life's story.He rather especially stressed
20 One of his moments of glory.“I had to train my wife, boy,To put up the toilet seat;If I can put it down for her,Then she could put it up for me.”
25 It was then I regardedHim as crazy;I looked into his eyes,The wooden one was lazy.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Entrance Exam
I never thought I'd die;I'd been around so long.But one day I was shotFor singing a country song.
5 Everything became misty,But I stumbled through the smokeOnly to find some gates andThis guy. This is what he spoke.“You've got to pass this test
10 To gain admission into heaven;God rather dislikes peopleWith IQ's of only seven.The test has no lies, justMultiple Choice, True\False;
15 It doesn't matter if you canSing and dance or do a waltz.Smiles and good worksCan't get you in my city,Neither can Faith
20 Hill or a charming ditty.Complete in No. 2 lead,Sign in blue ink where needed.Go tell Old St. PeteWhen this exam you have completed.
25 If you fail this battery,5
You should've listened in school,For it's only reading, writing,'Rithmetic, not prophesying, fool.”I told him I only had No. 3 lead
30 And an pink ink pen.I found that remark amusing, But he didn't bother to grin.He pointed over by the gatesTo a desk that was rather wee6.
5 Battery: exam, test6 Wee: small
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
35 I shuffled over and crammed in;It was uncomfortable for me.To my satisfaction, the test containedVast amounts of geometry;I had aced the math portion
40 With a 210 on the SAT.So maybe I'm not meant for heavenAs far as tests are concerned.But I'd climb those offwhite gatesAfore I'd get scorched and burned.
45 But, really, there's no need for thatSince the gates have no abutting wall.I'd prefer to walk right inThan risk another death from the fall.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Call of the Wild Vikings
Flee the call of the wild Vikings,They've come to steal your soul,Your smallclothes and your nostrils,And emptiness from its hole.
5 For the unstoppable wild VikingsThe duty of war is fun.If they'd wanted anguish and pain, they'dBe home with wives and everyone.What other occupation allows
10 For the despoilment of an horseOr the pillaging of women?Ah, it's good to be Norse,As parenting involvesThe burning of other's children,
15 And stealing entire villagesIs not counted as a sin.Norsemen seek honor, feats,Exploits, mead, and gold.Plus, they don't fear death,
20 For, in the end, all are mold.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Heavily Medicated
Women should stay heavily medicated;They're more receptive to my lack of charm.Thus, with the use of some overusedLines they'll gravitate to my arm.
5 All of my best experiencesIn Romance have been with drugs.To my great dismay I have notThe playa powers of thugs.But do not get me wrong; I didn't
10 Take advantage of these lasses.I was being myself, when theyWarmed to me. Must've been the glasses.I was unaccustomedTo these perplexing anomalies.
15 Always later I find outThat I've been used by druggies.And to my blissful caseOf ignorance I pleadThat I deserve these happenings
20 For the disappointing love life I lead.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
On Monday
On Monday things happenedAs they've normally done before:In inefficient turmoil and boredomWhilst I walked across the floor
5 Following the lead and guidanceOf a crackbaby puppyWhose harlotrous dam bredLike a nymphomaniac guppy,Judging from the number of siblings
10 Trotting round me with fourlegged woesAnd withdrawal. Each is rummagingThrough alien baggage with the nose,With sniffyllis's wet snorting; a germ'sMoistly chilled fragrant monumental landform.
15 Occasionally one limply collapses afterSniffing government crack or chloroform.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Regular it ies
There've been some nasty rumoursConcerning why I can't maintain a job.It seems the opinion of the publicMandates that I'm a slob.
5 But if they only knewLife is but misconceptions,They'd have long since stopped postulating forOther's imaginary directions.Truth be known, joblessness informs
10 Me of the status of my physique,As I am administered physicalsAlmost every other week.I frequent a room with latexGloves where the air is crisply cold.
15 There I must run in place andObediently do as I am told.What would they do for love,Wealth, or a just7 measure?Lie down, anything, and protest like
20 Their gossip about my pleasure.
7 Just: fair
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Hypothetices
What would you doIf your freckles were blue?Would you marry me?I'm just one with toes
5 Who likes to proposeAnd formulate hypothetices8.If there were none elseBesides the CeltsWould you dye yourself with wode?
10 I'm a desperately settling guyWho'd accept even a lie,Though most tell me to hit the road.
8 Hypothetices: hypothetical situations
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Nu Mecks ìckö
I'm going New MexicoWith curtains on my car;Not to shade my eyesOn a journey that far.
5 See, I may be lucky,If fortune is with me,And I would not wantThe whole world to seeThe adventures of my
10 Honey I have newly met,Unless they pay to seeUs on the Internet.Curtains make it legal bySome disturbing legal action
15 To make the uncomfortableBack seat a place of satisfaction.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Donkey on My Thigh
Like a donkey on his thighPale as coffee creamer,Sat this greedily braying,Compulsive little screamer.
5 If that derrière had aTail with which to swat flies,Then it would be wagging backAnd forth lashing nose and eyes.“Look , kid, I'm not Santa.”
10 The elf he'd ever feared.“This is called a goatee;It is not a beard.Did someone put you up to this?”Questioned the drunken hippie's voice,
15 Which for some reason caused the childTo toothily grin and rejoice.Pointing from the park benchInto the blinding raysTo where the bells'd ring on
20 Wintry and generous days,The lad assigned the culprit aFigure, he who'd sent him to thigh.After the sun Jonat was colorBlind and had splotches before the eye.
25 Blinking quickly for a moment,Thus did he himself entertain,Until the miscreant's recognitionCaused him to refrain.Jonat noted then the
30 Kid's ears were pointy, too.Tugging, they were indeedNaturally affixèd not with glue.Jonat would have fledCould Santa not fly,
35 But Santa walked overAnd began with, “Hi,
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Jonat.” Said Santa somberly,“You've got to share the wealth.You are my only hope in
40 This time of my failing health.Glaucoma is catching me, butNo hospital will treat me;They won't admit me under NickSince no doctors believe in me.
45 I'm asking you to forgive meFor handcuffing you at threeAnd stranding you at age fourIn your pajamas outside your door.Could you forget what chanced
50 When you were but five,And I ditched you shortlyWhere polar bears do thrive?”Jonat sorely rubbed his scars andBut for the elf would've spoken a curse.
55 But still, the white mammoths left himAlive. It could have been worse.“I need a dope connection;Would you be my supplier?I promise that from now on
60 I won't set your dogs on fire.I only played those games forBoredom of the night's passing.I promise I'll find anotherSchmuck to start harassing. . .
65 Could you put aside your pettyAnger and fear for the general good?I'd send the elves to theStreets if only I couldRely on them to continue
70 Working stoned reliably,But drugs destroy industry,And I need them more than you,Since they enable ChristmasWith their toy production.”
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
75 He neglected to mention most elves alreadyWere on morphine for arthritispain reduction,Since their bodies last for centuries beforeThe toosoon spiritual abduction.“Besides, would you really want to see
80 Small humanoid prostitutes with dime bags?Those occupations should be left toThe active, the mellow, and the hags.You remember when you were sixAnd first you bingéd on pot?
85 You should atone for this byGiving me juana and what not.”“I only began early becauseYou drove me to tormentation;Mellowness was the suggestion of
90 My therapist's evaluation.”“Then you should have some honor, respect,And appreciation for me,Since I am why you are such. Roll meA fatty an you have dignity.”
95 Jonat was never one to miss aChance. He and Santa mellowly conversed,Until of a sudden back to theFormer conversation Santa burst.“Think of it as payback for childhood;
100You never left me milk or a cookie.Just leave me pot, hash brownies, andSeveral quarts of psybocilin tea.”Jonat finallyAgreed; it should pay well.
105It seems there is one gift they can'tProduce in the land of Noel.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Chapter II
Why Angels Scream
“Why do the angels scream?Why do they let tears fall?What has happened to their wings?Why hath they their fair eyes clawed?”
5 “Lament they o'er nothing;They are afraid of the dark.Sadly has cold fear on seasTossed begun to embark.”“Why do the angels scream?
10 Of what dark fearest they?Light of brilliance does surround,Cast by He to whom we pray.”“Lament they o'er nothing;God's merely left their fold.
15 Like a mother with child awayAre they without Him to behold.”“Why do the angels scream?Is not He their master?An He travels where He likes,
20 How canst it be disaster?”“Lament they o'er nothing;God vacations in HellTo visit Fire and BrimstoneAnd all His angels which fell.”
25 “Why do the angels scream,An God's on vacation?He did so on the seventh day;Such is not below His station.”“Lament they o'er nothing;
30 They only overreact.He's used omnipotenceTo fix what He hath lacked.”“Why do the angels scream,An God's more complete?
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
35 How canst they criticize HeFor whom they grovel at feet?”“Lament they o'er nothing;Evil He found more fun.He decided He'd be Satan,
40 An He was anyone.”“Why do the angels scream;The Lord can be all things?Why're they afraid of the dark?What has happened to their wings?”
45 “Lament they o'er nothing;In the dark they're alone.Without servitude's duty,Passing insane have they grown.”“Why do the angels scream?
50 Despise they an day off?The longer He is in Hell,The less at them can He scoff.”“Lament they o'er nothing;He's never to return.
55 Desolation they comprehendFinally, since He did them spurn.”“Why do the angels screamAnd venture not to Him?Golden cities are naught
60 Without their finest gems.”“Lament they o'er nothing;They've but been forsaken.Now they art devils, and wingsFrom their backs hath been shaken.”
65 “Why did God betray them?What taint could so corrode?An angels do lack leadership,Then for humans this does forebode.”“Forsook them because of I,
70 The Prince of Deceptive Might.Now canst I command heaven,In the absence of light.”
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Goodwill of Death
“Good ladies and good gentlemen,And those of gentler births,I stand before you here todayFor a crime that is the worst.
5 But before ye yet judge meWith a sentence that shan't waver,Please, let me inform youOf how I did him a courteous favor.I gave him the goodwill of death,
10 As goodwill to all must be.How can you possibly thinkThis was ill of me?Some people may nod or waveOr shake another's hand,
15 But me, I merely accosted him withA smile and laid him out in the sand.This earth is a cruél place,What with kids and wives and rent;He's probably up there thanking me
20 Now that his life is spent.How rather unfortunateYou've taken this the wrong way;Perhaps you'll understand when youHave the goodwill of death someday.”
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Goodwill of Death (Or ig inal)
“Good ladies and good gentlemen,And those of gentler birth,I stand before your naked eyes,Which I can see hold no mirth.
5 I know that you think me ill, andWhile I may not fully agree,I stand before you to confessOf his death I was guilty.
Nay, look you not so much appalled10 And think great ill of me,
For he was cruelly trapped on Earth,And I merely did but free.I gave him the goodwill of death,As goodwill to man must be,
15 And for this kindness I'm sureYou'll find naught but good in me.I did him a favour, you must see,To manumit9 him from this earth.For what you see as death here
20 In heaven is but birth.And now he's in a better placeAnd of one thing I'm sure,That if there we met face to face,He'll thank me for the favour.”
9 manumit: free, liberate
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Gunslinger
In the sling where he'd hurt his arm,He kept his gun for safekeeping.From his persona he never removed it,E'en through bathing and sleeping.
5 He had a complex fascination withIt; he admired it everyday.He always kept it unloaded,For with it he liked to play.He was trapped alone in the wilderness
10 Of the city, lonesome in this world.If his lover was an revolver,Gently would its chamber have been twirled.Fantasizing as one day he pulled theTrigger, he found the ammo to be dust.
15 The mote flew through his eye, andIt the retina did bust.There upon meninges uponHis brain beneath the sealed hatchRested the irritating speck that would
20 Prove to be an itch he couldn't scratch.Though the arbiting source ofHis unrequited distress,His unloaded gun everydayHe continued to caress.
25 Unable to continue longer,He drowned in his bath tub.There with him as always wasHis cold, metallic love.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Contempt of Court
One day the state will call aWitness that does not wish to go.Down the aisle on the bailiff's armShall he be escorted past each row.
5 “To ignore the insidiousQuestion, I will not testify.Hold your clamorous uproar,And I shall tell you why.I swore to tell the truth; and
10 There's but one truth I possess.All lawyers are evil.Nay, I shalt not digress!Onesided questionsEmployed to misrepresent
15 Testimony makes meYour entire creed resent.Is it implicit or declared lawTo manipulate informationTo ever biasédly
20 Behoove your evil situation?Both sides radiate anEqually pungent offense.May Sheol10 be loved by theProsecution and defense.
25 It's appalling—the ways theGreek debate system you've profaned.The beauty from your dreamsMust have been drained.If I were me I'd have
30 The lot of ye flogged,And for each previous caseBetween the eyes frogged.”Being a former barrister,The judge will not agree.
35 The poor chap'll be held in
10 Sheol: Hell
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Contempt, and locked up with no key.But the abyss of hatred whereinHe bids the penal system to portProves that he's the one that should
40 Mete out true contempt of court.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Invitation
To an old friend:“Please come to my wedding;Remember when as a childIn winter we went sledding?
5 We were the best of friendsThrough the end of high schoolWhen, over some girl,Friendship was proven a fool.I beg you to attend;
10 On time, if you can.If it weren't for the split,You'd be the best man.Signed, please attend.” Such wasThe message I did dispatch.
15 Happily on that day I sawHim sit 'neath the church's thatch.It was a smaller church,Rustic and delightful,Almost as much as his
20 Look that was purely frightfulWhen in waltzéd theBride he'd ditched me forUpwards of threeYears, almost four.
25 On the envelope I'd fakedIt said “Tito and Melaine.”I forged it to engineerFor him great pain.The girl he quit talking to
30 Me for left him for another,And, eventually, her momBecame my mother.Revenge is fulfilling, justAs an empty wealth and bride
35 That demand that youFlaunt them not hide.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
But as I watched the ladThere, this I couldn't deny:I was sorry for not
40 Making him sooner cry.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Eibmoz
Night time passed in insolenceFoiled by the brazen day.Makes me wish for somnambulismIn a nonnocturnal way.
5 A moldy fist punctures the earth,As is seen happen too often.Summed maliciousness coursed and madeA crater of ground and coffin.There arrayed alone was
10 The form of wretched glee.I was buried dead not alive,Still the coffin could not restrain me.Who wants to haunt as a ghost when theNonethereal is intangible?
15 I'd rather torment physicallyIn a form none can kill.Some imitate the undead—Mindless in their daily ventures.Fools! Snatch passion whilst you can; some
20 Worlds enforce eternal censures.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Hypocr isy, Revengeance Thereon
The extent of her hypocrisyHe found difficult to believe;Never in his disclosed lifeHad he been one to deceive.
5 She was using religion as herFront, and all thought her high and mighty.He knew she'd been around sin's blockAnd found this ruse of hers flighty.He knew what she often wanted and got;
10 The safety employed by her impure reasons.For being as a serpent, deceptive,He wracked the latex with lesions.In that experience of her delight,Which in public she would call a sin,
15 He was comforted by knowing heActed for a good cause and did grin.He had always been honest andOpen and let the whole world know.When she asked if he loved her,
20 It mattered not that he said no.His views ever disclosed,The world got over it,Except for the guilty who thoughtHis truth lies and had a fit
25 Sanctimoniously/hypocritically.A few weeks after she did conceiveShe recognized it and began to grieve.She couldn't have an abortionAnd with it be through;
30 It wouldn't be a veryReligious thing to do.In the eyes of an overlyCritical world her sins were shown.She should have left
35 Well enough alone.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
What her society never grasped isThat none has a right to judge another.Every human is flawed imperfectly,An11 it came from a punished mother.
40 When her former lover consideredIf it was worth the effort,He found hypocrisyrevealingA magnanimously noble sport,Even though for it he must now
45 Pay heavily in child support.
11 An: If
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
All Their Wildest Dreams
And all their wildest dreams came true,Though for many years they had dreamed—A large collection must they have.But, presently, they haply beamed.
5 And all their wildest dreams came true.They said they'd never have believedIt in a million, though they'd thoughtOf it oft'. They must be deceived.And all their wildest dreams came true
10 With my rapid ascent to wealth.So laden12, I remembered them.Later, we toasted to my health.And all their wildest dreams came trueUpon an island I had bought.
15 Upon the peerless shore was theMansion by tiki weavers wrought.And all their wildest dreams came trueBecause of the taint that's money.When my mansion disappeared via
20 Explosives, I thought it funny.And all of my wildest dreams came trueLiving in a bungalow aloneWhere I'm free from interfering,Greedy friends and the telephone.
12 So laden: wealthy
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Venules
Your wrists are so blue and vibrant and richThat they've made a passion within to itchAs I sit near you watching blue streaks jump.
I feel passing breathless, though mine lungs pump.5 Think I how lovely it would be
To have your arms tightly round me,Wrist closed crossed slightly behind my neck.Thus embraced, your lips I would peck.And I'd tremble, though not for kiss,
10 But from sheer joy and oozing blissAt having your love trickle downMy vertebral spine from the frownUpon each wrist that I you gaveBecause my passion'd not behave.
15 They tempted me sore with their tunnelsPassing fair that, as if with funnels,Must be drained. Note I did not slitLengthwise, thus you'd live a tad bitLonger or perchance die not at all,
20 As winter blocked by eternal fall.Lifelessly listless you've becomeWhile hugging me to death, and someOf you13 pools on my back. My petYour love14 stains much as runner's sweat:
25 Lumbarly collected at the tailWith thoracic ellipses, as well.While your pallor groweth more pale,Our chemistry doth I inhale.
13 Some of you: your blood14 Love: blood
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Chapter III
As Things Should Be
Let's hear it forHow things should beAnd drunkenly reworkThe shards of history.
5 The shattered remains ofThe lives of men and deedsWe should trample with unshodWar horses, great and rearing steedsWho will mire us down
10 As they go lame.If toxic byproductsThere are, these are to blame.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Santa Anna and His Elves
Santa Anna15 and his elves,They're coming to your town;You're outnumbered a thousand to one,And they're gonna burn you down.
5 Santa Anna and his elves,They are a merry bunch;They lay waste to everythingAnd drink fresh blood like punch.Santa Anna and his elves
10 Go on a first name basis,For one day Santa Claus got tiredAnd decided to switch places.Now down in old HavannyLives good ole St. Nick;
15 He rounds up all the naughty girlsAnd from them takes his pick.It seems Santa is a ladies man,Girls' hearts he's been known to steal;Only it's a shame Mrs. Claus
20 Does not like the way he feels.Santa Anna and his elvesGive out tequila on Christmas Eve;While it's bad for children,The winos have remembered to believe.
25 Christmas is now a burdenFor all the parents that must now buy toys,But tequila comes in handyWhen you have Barbie doll receiving boys.Santa Anna is so happy,
30 So happy he could cry.He loves his elves so very much,But why does he love them, why?An elf is a small breed of elk ,Which is a type of deer,
35 Yet even though they do make toys,
15 Santa Anna: a Mexican general of the mid1800s who outnumbered the slain at the Alamo
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
They make some mighty potent beer.The world was all liquored up;Santa Anna was ready to attack.But the elves and reindeer
40 Decided they'd rather hit the sack.Now the North Pole is swampedWith messages asking why“Mommy stole my liquor?” and“Where's that action figure guy?”
45 Santa Anna made a solemn vowTo drink while he's still alive;But don't worry kids—He let's the reindeer drive.Now most of this was fiction,
50 The rest of it untrue;Santa Anna wants another worm,The elves have requested two.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
About T ime
People who make claimsThey cannot reinforceObviously have no shame;Possess little remorse.
5 For example, it's not the World Series,Maybe the CanadianAmerican.Are there any potential teamsFrom Mexico and Japan?Miss Universe will never be a valid
10 Title until aliens are competing.Alienesses may blend in with salad,But they'll be exquisite, I am sure.Time, UFOs, and lies flyWhen things hit the fan.
15 Nevertheless, I wish to see spaced delegatesTo Miss Universe as soon as I can.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Let's Burn Venice
Fie on blasted romance!Venice must be burned,Because the affects IIntimated were spurned.
5 If I cannot be happy,Then that city must perish.When but a pile of ash, itWon't look nearly as garish.Gondolariddled alleys?
10 Ha! Rather have a canoe.Maybe the gondoliers willAll die of the fever and the flu.Venice should be as Venus,Which may be its namesake—
15 It should be a scorchéd placeWhere the lands doth bake.Or should it, perhaps, be leveled 'neathThat omniencompassing salty lake16?
16 omniencompassing salty lake: the ocean
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Satire Is the Way of Life
“Satire is the way of life,”Decreed good King Ferdinand.“Columbus thinks Isabella a patron;She merely rid him from our land.
5 He believes the world to be round,This we've been blessed to always know.But the infallible CatholicChurch won't let it be professed so.But maybe the Church is right,
10 And the earth, she is flat.Columbus would then sail right off;We can all hope for that.”“But, husband,” asked Isabella,“Will you buy back my jewels?
15 They were, after all, worth moreThan ridding Europe of some fools.”
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Commit Murder
Dear sir, I'd like to commitMurder as a ward of the stateInto your asylum forDesires which he cannot sate.
5 Murder has the awful tendencyTo break the sacred law.But should he be punishedFor this tragic flaw?No! Punishment works not;
10 He needs reinforcement and aidTo treat his behaviors, in order forHis debt to society to be paid.For the benefit of order,And Murder's constitution,
15 I implore you to accept my pleaAnd submit him to your institution.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Medieval Cures
“Where have you been?”Many bothersomely inquired,As if they had some rightTo in my business become mired.
5 “I've been in VenezuelaWith a barber and a hang nail.I was seeking medical attentionBecause my health was frail.I needed one experienced in
10 Phlebotomy and ritual bleedings.Leeches are great; just theVery bloody things I was needing.I feel better, drained, and jetLagged (only a little bit.)
15 The barber's shave left my faceSmooth; the hang nail mimics it.”
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Or ig ins of the Orthodox Church
Vikings were not pagan, unlessYou consider Orthodox to be;Northmen were simply the precursorsOf Roman Catholic heresy.
5 In retaliationTo discrimination,Christendom was raided, Even Merry England was invaded.They stole from and hindered the church
10 Where books and valuables were kept.Then, they sailed to Greece, settledTheir strict beliefs, and gently slept.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The World Wil l Get By
He rolled over in bedWhen the siren's wailedAnd groaned as his senseOf motivating duty failed.
5 The superhero's not coming tonight;You'll have to rely on the policeTo battle the majestic fight 'Gainst organizedly random crime.He's tired of monotonously
10 Winning at his cost.But it's not greed alone for whichHis service was lost.True, he fought expensivelyTo receive no aid in money,
15 But each encounter night after daySkirted Death, who is not funny.“I am no Messiah. Why Should I be a sacrifice?”He went to sleep and on a
20 Vacation. Thinks him, “This is nice.”
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Enlightenment
“My grandparents suckLike an inhaling lung.They worship their ancestorsAnd value me less than their dung.
5 Well, maybe I don't growMushrooms after it rains,But at least I don'tHave bovine17 brains!”This Indian grew weary of
10 By family being neglected,Thus from the HinduCamp he defected.He fried up all the cows,But the rest of them escaped.
15 Amidst his relatives he wolfedDown the beef while they gapedTo see their belóvedInto a cannibal turned.He spoke around a mouthful that he
20 Hoped it was ancestors he'd burned.
17 Bovine: cow
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Fatalist by Nature (Pacif ist at Heart )
The story no one tells is ofViking influence on two great men.The Norseman could do little for himself,But he changed John Calvin and WilliamPenn.
5 He was a fatalist by nature,All had been decided by fate.Thus he pillagéd the horse, rapedThe gold, and the women he ate.The Norsemen must participate
10 Honourably thus till the end,For Valhalla was the junctionWhere the brave's paths wend.But he doubted this one nightAnd, to convince his turmoiled mind,
15 Carved a passage of the fixédness ofWyrd, or fate, and how time but does grind.This runic writing of fateWas left in Calvin's nation,The vehemence inspired formulation
20 Of his theory of Predestination.In England wrote the troubled NorthmanInstead of “a rapist was here”Of a peaceful lifeThat transcended all fear.
25 Penn was of comfortable nobility,But he converted to a warless Quaker.His inner light, it seems, stemmed fromA bit of futhark and its maker.He drank up pacifism
30 As Vikings mead thirstily.Penn found himself on a boat,Then in the land of the free.The Northman was as calm asThe wild ocean that bears the name.
35 Penn and Calvin have rolled over;He continues to peacefully maim.
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The Conquistador 's Beard
The virgins were sacrificedFor fun and for pleasure.Moctezuma gazed over Tenochtitlan,Blinking at his leisure.
5 The nation was arrayed inThe formation of victory;They'd exterminated the strangers,With the exception of two or threeTrained in the art of surrender
10 And broken captivity.Their leader's beard was to be usedIn religious ceremony.The fool who'd tried to conquerThe Aztecs was now dead18.
15 His body was mutilated,As was Cortez's head.After the defeat noneOf his ilk would dare invade.The rumblings of a warlike people
20 Made a throbbing serenade.The Spaniards had comeFor Glory, God, and Gold;They'd met dishonour, their God,And the decaying mold.
25 The prisoners of doomHad the vengeance of ague.Smallpox to the Aztecs isLike in Europe the black plague.The existence of a nation
30 By smallpox was mended,Just as the worldOn their calendar ended.
18 The fool . . . dead: Cortez
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Stood Up
I quickly sat downUpon hearing she had died.I was greatly stunned,But her mom had only cried.
5 I had never been stood up before,And tomorrow night was prom's dance.I had planned this night for months toBe one of exceeding romance.When I saw her in her casket
10 I spilled out the ways I felt,She rudely stared not at meWhen this deck of choice I dealt.I told her she could dance with meOr be planted the next day;
15 She voiced no assent or objection,So I took her anyway.“Does this mean we can't go to prom?”Some would brokenly say.One must be more forceful, though,
20 And seize the corpse and day.
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A LongWinded Overs ight, 12 Lines
It's something of an hallow conviction,Only a weekend warrior's duty,To protect the trees while relaxingAnd listening to “Professor Booty19.”
5 Though they may scream about loggers,Poor owls, and lack of replanting,The halfheartedness of longwindedSpeeches is truly known as ranting.An “they” truly about trees cared,
10 Then they'd prohibit homework—A teacher's insult to students. It uponVast quantities of paper goes berserk.
19 Professor Booty: a song by the Beastie Boys from the LP Check Your Head.
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Gallantly Pr iceless
Yes, I realize I am a sportsHero by many admired,Yet, it was another reason forWhich events have thus transpired.
5 The ulterior motive wasn't fame,Women, or the violence grantedIn obscene amounts to an oneWho has the world enchanted.Sadly, I am merely a cheap person
10 Blessed with time and dedication,And now no longer do I needBuy flowers. SubjugationTo my indiscriminate command IEnforce upon bouquets thrown from the stands
15 In droves at each performance fromGenerously extravagant hands.My wife is thrilled, thoughShe hardly this would say,Since constantly I bombard
20 Her with petals. “They're passé,”She whispers to me, presumingI always frequent a florist.Slowly in dance do weShuffle slowly, back to wrist.
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Bitter Cloning, Tragic Mould
The world will be a bitterPlace, although much more fun,An I were the mould ofThought for everyone.
5 Since thought controls action,And action what you do,No one would be married or have theAudacity to say, “I love you.”Love is a foolish mirage—an illusion
10 More painful than a crippling reality.The most one would say is, “GreatBody,” or, “You know, I like thee.“I love you” has given rise to more troubleFor pleasure than there ever needed be.
15 Everyone would disregard those wordsAnd consider that discharge contemptuously.While running all would long to break a leg or be runDown by a vehicle of inconsiderate speed,As one could then escape the horrors of running,
20 As it might be an excuse coach would heed.
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A Cool Dr ink
The wooden oak slab squeakedOn hinges welloiledAs my hand's sebaciousnessThe molested hardwood soiled.
5 Thirsty, I the threshold crossedInto the bathroom's cloister.Behind the blackened screen couldBe heard the crickets' boister.Cleanly brushing and flossing
10 Over the marble sink ,Stood I musing at the skiesColoured no longer pink.With a fresh mouth freedOf odor and taste,
15 I could now savour waterAnd its freshness not waste.Dampening the pump's shaftWhere the sink should be,I welled up my desire by
20 Pumping the handle lustily.A cool stream unevenly flowed intoA coopered bucket with metal bands.Quenching, with catharsis I drank fromThe large, iron ladle in my hands.
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Well, Have You?
Have you paid the wages ofAnarchy lately today?With warm smiles and pleasant chaosHath thou brightened someone's day?
5 Have you with asphalt paved the way to lawlessness;Convinced the moon the sun was gray?Hath thou corrupted teenage toddlers and informedParents to let them do as they may?Have you stood by actively while watching
10 The worn threads of society fray?Didst thou twist some airy words into sombre dismay whenTo neutrally hostile parties messages you did relay?If not, you've done nothingDeconstructive with your day,
15 If your debt to the DarkAges you did not pay.
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Mommas
Mommas, don't letYour babies grow upTo be hitch hikersOr bikers or at all.
5 When as a child it seemsThat mommies don't letChildren do things;Love makes and forces.But age goes by quickly
10 And rebellion is a givenForce that constantly remindsMothers that babies grow up.Yet, they may be incomplete,Possessing a purpose, yet
15 Having no way to accomplish thisOnus sans a lift from another.Perhaps your baby growsComplete with the means,But is only able to drift
20 Aimlessly around life's roads.Mommas don't let themGrow up, smother them in love,Foster complexes, andIncapacitate their ambition.
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Cr itic isms and Bitterness
Criticisms and bitterness issuedFrom the intentless apothecaryWhose herbs, he croaks, cannotMend the ills of the fairy
5 Who dwells where, mischievously,He can torture my bellyAnd cause the yellow bile to ooze.It's amazing, physiognomy.He tells me a cure is
10 To get with the barber's wife,For depressing stomach achesCan be treated with a knife.
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Apology to the Underapprec iated
As she did mourn and lament,His resting spirit was bentFrom the peace it ne'er would achieve.Sadly, a thought he did conceive
5 Caused him for mom to bereave,Since oft' she he'd needlessly grieved.Seldom'd he told her he loved her;Rarely of honor'd he defer.Supremely, for laboured child birth,
10 Which's filled with pain and lacked mirth,An apology he'd not sent,Thus he's at unrest in earth's dent.
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Chapter IV
As Things Are
As things are is seldomAs things should be.My, God, my God, whyHave they forsaken Thee?
5 If anyone should rule,Then it's the meek and snoring.Instead power often residesWith the arrogantly boring.If anyone should do the
10 Forsaking, it should be God.He's tolerated far too muchFrom those creations made from sod.
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On Making Beds
Why should the covers IPull taut and wrinklefree?Why canst they not reside asComfortable dungarees?
5 It matters not if theEye is by mess appalled.Each morning making beds hasLogical ration galled.Why should covers be smoothed,
10 An sleep will them perturb?Live by efficiency:Their rest never disturb.
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Nuclear Fiend
Below the valence shellsWhere electrons take refuge,Is the emptiness and thatNuclear centrifuge20.
5 Only a lesser devil—Below the totem pole—I've sought vile promotionBy inhabiting its soulTo engineer its downfall,
10 That pathetic protoned putz.My benefits will grow asA raven from its guts.Hail me, the great destructorOf helpless mindless midgets
15 Who'd ne'er pick on larger thingsOr anyone named Brigitte.It is true pacifism—Killing that which cannot beCreated or destroyed
20 But turned into energy.
20 Nuclear centrifuge: the nucleus, around which the electrons spin.
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Somewhat Free Verse on Social ism
Communism would have beenMuch more enjoyable hadIt been achievable andSoundly founded not by an
5 Impoverished, tearyeyed,Impostor philosopherWho, hypocritically,Wholly depended uponThe capitalistic funds
10 And rich patronage of hisAristocratic better.Though the drama of the coldWar it provided; I amForever slated to be
15 A quasisocialist.
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Cliché
How odd!What a peculiar thing to say!What has happened to the world I knew?It's all gone cliché.
5 I know the words to that song,I wasn't born yesterday.Why, those lines are just rearranged,And it's all so passé.The lyrics in that song
10 Scream that “rock is dead.”Perhaps they should have been original,But they chose the overused instead.The words in that bookHave all been used before,
15 I've read the same thing once and again;My black and blue eyes are sore once more.Is anything whatsoever new,Or has it all been done?True talent is to rephrase,
20 Because clichés are fun.
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Spangles
Spangles sparklein the crimson dewiridescent their lightgiving what's due
5 Sparkles spanglesole duty in lifeaesthetically therecausing no strifeTwo types of people
10 these sparkles and spanglesgiving no morethan their jingles and jangles.
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He Who Said Never
He who said neverWas forever cursed;Blessed to endureWhat he loathed worst.
5 He who said hopeWas led to despair,Crushed just that once, he'sNever again to care.He who was brave
10 Was taught to fear;He was laid lowBy what he held dear.He who rejoicedWas led to great sorrow;
15 He was led to it againUpon waking the morrow.He who was aloofWas forced to share;But the wonders he disclosed
20 Made twisted minds stare.He who said one thingMeant quite another;He'll hit on your sister,And aim for your mother.
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Lacking Style or Era or Form
We are uninventiveAnd create nothing new;We've more important andLess taxing things to do
5 Than forge a trademark that'sSymbolic of our times.It's well plagiarism ofForms is not counted a crime,Due to our present need of
10 Thoughtless, strict imitation.Poems and architectureAnd such (i.e. furniture)Show our sad, present theme: toCopy sans inspiration
15 The ancient styles wellused,While being content to notHave created an uniqueness by whichWe can be remembered by once we rot.
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You've Created
Now look ye uponThe monsters you've created—People once normalUntil they were hated.
5 You've every rightOf them to be scaredAs you never once accostedThem or asked them how they fared.You scorned them earlier for
10 Being below your station;They were only wishing to fit in, Yet you drove them to isolation.Now, they may not wear name brand,But they wear the shades of death.
15 They weren't allowed to live to be your friends,So now they live to startle with each breath.Look upon your creations,Would a kind word have been too hard?A shame it is that when you acknowledge
20 Them, your soul isn't bruised and scarred.You're not as good as Dr. Frankenstein;He eventually felt remorse.But you're an uppity person;You always will be, of course.
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Everyone Is Changing
Everyone is changing,And nothing's quite the same.Is there really a pointTo this life's game?
5 Are the alterationsGod's sick hoax?Does it thrill Him to changeAll we know about folks?Why is it no one could live
10 Up to my expectations?Their flaws and defects fillMe with exasperation.Has anyone else tradedFriends for enemies?
15 When reflecting at night,Do they also feel like sleaze?It wasn't my fault;I meant no harm.But somehow I lost
20 My wit and her charm.And why is it thatThere's given less time?Prithee, why isn't thatA crime?
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No Controversy
There were no gaming tables involved, no tauntsAbout illegitimate sons of wenches;But in both elections werePresent thieving legal grinches.
5 In 1824 a dynasty was begunWith the election of Quincy, John Adam's grandson.In 2000 W., George Bush's sonWas responsible for the completion of another one.Gore will probably feel robbed,
10 As did Andrew Jackson.But this kind of theft willOnly serve to fuel their faction.They lost in the electoral college,But won the general election.
15 In four more years things will change; such isThe democratic insurrection.Florida was frustrating and confusingWith butterflies and pregnant, dimpled chads,Multiple and manual recounts, and
20 Intervention from Supreme Court lads.7,000 votes in New York cost theElection for Cleveland and his runningmate;500 odd worked against Lieberman,And Florida was the state.
25 The Florida Secretary of State HarrisTook a firm Republican stanceDuring the recounts and certification;Maybe she'll enjoy France.It's as black a thing as
30 Nixon and Kennedy;But then, even the dead should be ableTo vote in a country that is free.It's a shame there was no controversyUntil after the votes had been cast.
35 There may be a new direct election amendmentProclaiming the electoral college's days have passed.
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PsychoPhysiological Disorder
Pain is a virus, or perhaps aPsychophysiological disorderThat, when mentally inflicted, is obliviousTo the psychephysical border.
5 Pain can be masked throughExperience in early childhoodAnd cultural perspective, Sufism,And other meditations couldProvide a thick curtain to
10 Shelter from that harsh light.Yet this worldly illness oft'Attacks in the pitchest of nights.The only vaccination for painResides in and is paradise.
15 An eternity without afflictionMight be considered nice.
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Warsaw, Romance Therein
It's been rumoured Poles are dumb,As well that only fools fall in lust.Warsaw must be the capitalOf love then, I trust.
5 Truthfully, that is the onlyPlace wherein I have foundEnjoyment at being confinedIn the cages of love's pound.It's all the same; lust
10 And love and romance.Who really needs a name?It' can't be all that vitalAn life is but a gameWherein one plays one's cards.
15 What's in Warsaw besides a communistPact, Poles, and love one supposes?I'm not certain, but if I ever goI'll be sure to bring black roses.
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Cur
Dogs sicken me, but IHave no allergies to fur.It's just a physical reactionTo the traits of every cur.
5 Canines receive demandinglyA massage everyday;The best they've done for me is runTheir tongue over my skin and bray.While working they
10 Jostle my arm,Their pleasure comes atThe task at hand's harm.Dogs are the selfCenters of attention.
15 That I did this yesterday is capTured not by their powers of retention.Their love lust only ends when myVoice has the proper inflection.Procuring a soft pet rock is
20 A step in the right direction.
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Fame
Fame seems like such anUnachievable delusion.Unrealized effortFormulates this conclusion.
5 Mortals desireNotoriety eternally,E'en if after the first fifteen minutesTheir names are a jest permanently.The genetic desire for fame
10 Is a forgone conclusion;Folks will assay the PantheonTill their brains have contusions.So try to write a bookOr get on a game show.
15 But it's all just a waste ofThe historians' time, you know.
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Consensual Fornications
Time is an annoying rapist;The sun's long since taken the skiesTo force its day upon youWhen you wish not to arise.
5 Just let me rest; despoilMe at a later time.If you [Time] only took aBreak , it'd be more sublime.If you knew how to stop, or
10 Your fornications went slower,I might call it consensualAnd smile rather than glower.
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Portraying Disrespect: an Amer ican Scene
It's hanging in a museum there,And everybody's got a print21.They can't rest soundly at nightWithout carefully studying it.
5 Reminders are everywhere, in schoolsAnd bars and the walls of bus stations.Like the leaden plumbing of Rome,It is the pride of the nation.But what I cannot understand is the
10 Fascination with it. As the Mona Lisa,A big to do is made over not much;Bricks built the pyramids of Giza!In the corner is a motherBy children being flogged.
15 A group's smoking around a runnerWho has obviously just jogged.Other details include graffitiAnd that awful movie Titanic.There's some abandoned elderly,
20 And a riot filled with panic.
21 Print: a facsimile copy of a painting
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Gnashing Hurt
Sheol is more civilizedThan my pity town;This is evidenced byThe roads traveled down
5 To reach the destinations thatEven the pure traverse.But Sheol must have the bestRoad system in the universe,As it's paved with good intentions. In
10 This proximity it's often dirt;It would almost be worth anEternity of gnashing hurtTo travel the subtle subterraneanWays where sins and inhibitions are freed.
15 Sheol's roads are Romanesque;It's where all paths lead.
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Lust Is in Desire
Lust is in desire?I never would have thoughtIt was the pronged attackOf lust and desire I fought
5 When on sundry occasionsMy feelings I did courtWhen I vehemently yearned forSomeone, or something of that sort.Lust is a great evil, albeit
10 It keeps some relationships alive.I suppose I'll have to quit desiringThings whilst I yet survive.
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Bryant Jennings
In that former dark age22, life isConsidered simply primitiveIn comparison to the agesOf presence in which we live.
5 But did Horsa and Hengest and theirTranscendental posterity findA lack of interest concerningThe fruits of the mind?Was publication easier in AngloSaxon times,
10 Or was creation slowed by the lack of rhymes?Did the author have to teach his talesTo the scop and hope that he not failsIn its musical recital with clever caesuras and kennings?Publication is difficult in these days of Bryant Jennings23.
22 Dark age: AngloSaxon England was once considered a dark age23 Bryant Jennings: an NBC news anchor
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A Quiz
Here is a quizWith one result:To loosely testIf you're in a cult.
5 There's a charismaticLeader like Hitler or an apeWho gives whizzing radical commandsWhilst idly you obediently gapeUnable to fathom the
10 Evil and false witnéssThat one day may cause you orAcquaintant family24 distress.This leader makes decisivelyInfluential choices that
15 Control your life and howYou live and all of that.Often there's a sacrificeOf life or wants of temptation.Cults willing, none of you failed
20 This basic examination.
24 Acquaintant family: the assorted collection of friends and acquaintances and chancely met strangers
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Oh Fudge
Of fudge, you give me a headacheWith your concentrated power.I feel as though I've hastilyConsumed frozen ice cream an hour.
5 Your blackness is “forbidden”To those who cannot say “taboo.”After a small sampling, yourPotency makes many think “Morbleu25.”And though I know better when
10 I see you layered in parfait,I seem to forget the harmAnd think , 'What the hey!'
25 Morbleu: a French oath
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Sickening
Some things are obviously sickening,Such as the music my sister listens to.Others are feet, diapers, gasoline, and glue.There are a number of
5 Things that cause me disease.Botulism is one if presentIn bloated cans of green peas.My fragile immunity is notFond of miscreants like fungal yeast.
10 Its true love also is notThe flukes and worms of raw beast.I once knew a pig that loved meUntil it left me with trichinosis.I thought it just a broken heart, but my
15 Doctor informed me of his prognosis.Microorganisms such as bacteriaGive oxygen and infection.Currently the living dead zombie viriIntrude and fight rejection.
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Cinema Tr ivial
If it were a movie,I'd know the endingAfter a few minutes ofExamination spending
5 To analyze weak charactersCaught up in previewed26 plots.Many times poor developmentRenders actors into lifeless bots.But life is no commercial flick; it's
10 Believed to be infinitely more complex,Just as if one fluent in binaryWas required to be literate in hex.The actors feign a million feelings believablyAnd convey the illusion of the first time.
15 The audience enrapturédly lovesA few and calls the antagonists slime.Life's director must be commended;It is such a fantastic screenplay.But the spoiler I keep asking is,
20 “Will it all end as I wish someday?”
26 previewed: seen before
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Dark Blue Pr ide
The Navy contains forcesOn land, in air, on sea.It doesn't seem like AmericaNeeds the other branches, to me.
5 The Navy has carriers,Blue Angels, and more planes.Do we need the Air Force, an they can'tLand upon ships in condensed rain27?The Army could be forgotten—
10 The Navy has the Marines.I'll stop short before I rhyme newMOSes28 for GI's with “latrines.”
27 Condensed rain: oceans and seas28 MOSes: military occupational specialties; jobs
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Bagels (Lenders)
The Mafia only lends moneyBecause they like to beatUp the wretchéd debtorsWho cannot monetarily meet
5 The deadline set for pricey terms,And limbs begin to disappearOr be broken into shards byHick'ry and tack hammers quite dearTo the henchmen and goons
10 Who must know they can't pay,But continue to loan sinceThey love to pain and slay.
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Bee Ess
My biggest gripe with literatureTeachers all students seem to share.We dislike searching forWhat often is not there.
5 It's sickening, really, to treat aPassage as more than literalAnd fabricate themes and symbolismTo authority's wishes fulfill.All hasty interpretations can be
10 Defended, even though they may be lies.Literature is not as fun whenIt has been over analyzedBy teachers who force their students toCognitively misconstrue with eyes29.
29 Cognitively. . . eyes: read and just make up interpretations.
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Face in Curtains
Biographies are not as much a waste ofTime as they are a waste of the beingWhose earlier memories, impressions, andSecrets have been for quite some time fleeing.
5 If bothered to be rendered, mineWould resemble my face in a drapePeering through with glassesMounted cockeyed, mouth agape.It would be as if it were
10 Woven to give impression;Narrated to illustrateMy life's events' succession.Accurate could it not be, forToo much has already been lost.
15 And, though I would not be misunderstood,There are some incidents I'd prefer tossed.
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Chapter V
Eye of the Beholder
Beauty's in the eyes of the beholder,But mine have astigmatism.This might explain why, personally, all these“Pretty girls” have no beauty in 'em.
5 In mine eyes there is detectedA different kind of charmThat is found, oddly enough,In those to whom none swarm.Yea, these girls that I find
10 Attractive, others disdain.They say that those haveNothing to make them vain.It seems I'm the only one toClaim the idols bland
15 And exalt the less worshippedOn the other hand.Girls to whom I proclaimTo that they are prettyReceive not my praise
20 Merely due to pity.I do indeed find themCandy for the eyes.Verily, I'm too lazy and unfeelingTo fabricate kindhearted lies.
25 Thus, it is the truth,In my perception,That I speak when ICompliment perfection.Perhaps it is only that I've grown
30 Weary of the same old scenery,And these vixens no one's everConsidered are more pleasing to me.So what if I like not the narcissistic?It's mostly their attitudes;
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35 I'd rather have a politely niceGirl than one that is rude.Beauties seem to change overTime: some girls begin to wane,The overlooked wax better,
40 And a handful never change.Mine eyes are odd, theyPerceive in a different way;This isn't just with beauty,It's with everything each day.
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When You've Slept
When you've slept upon yourArm and it has gone limpAnd lost all of its bloodLike a big city pimp,
5 It may have decidedNot to move anymoreAnd to just flop aroundLike a fish on the shore.To keep it from being as a stone
10 Cold dead bigcity fishmonger30,Simply do not sleepUpon your arm any longer.
30 fishmonger: Shakespearean term for a pimp
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Bitterness Ruins
Bitterness ruins like in CanadaDoes the American acid rain,Etching out stone fromBastions strong and vain,
5 Leaving only an pockéd shell thatFrom afar easily does deceiveThe unsuspecting observer that the stronghold'sAs mighty as any he did ever perceive.However, truth be told, as it one day
10 Must, it would crumble without a touchFrom a foreign assault. BitternessErodes and can leave any as such.
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Humility
Children are not humble; they areStubborn and amoral,Just as the Morays andClownfish in the reefs of coral
5 That prey upon their neighborsAs starving Saxons at a feast.If I were humble as a child,I'd throw tantrums at a priest.I do wish pride could be cast away like
10 A child's food when they've been excited.Then, the pangs of injury wouldBe not felt when I am slighted.
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Long, Narratively Sporadic Poems
Fifty million words isThe poem of last night,Should I begin to tryTo capture the dream's might.
5 Blinded there as I was,Visually did I gaze'Pon artificial realismThere in sleep's stupoured daze,Which, when the mind's awake,
10 Ceases not to amaze.The longest and grandestOf epics one mayst recite,Dreams seem to be intertwinedWith day's fortunes and plight.
15 How many words will fill aLine in hexameter verse?A picture needs a thousandWords to describe it at worst.Endless the pictures rendered
20 In three dimensional planes;The mind's bard recreatesStoried dreams with great pains.
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Br inging on Contention
“Dear matron, that wasA finelyspitted beastThat you carved upAnd served for this feast
5 That was sensually fulfilling,After the first three helpings, at least.Kindly direct me, good ma'am,To an appeasing chair.It would be kind service if an
10 Book or solitude may be found thereTo aid Morpheus in his quest toProvide solacing slumber free of despair.Oh, aye, 'tis the magnificence of anInn—the bringing on of contention.31
15 For happiness results from gorging,Which is followed by sleep's detention.Retention of this complacence cannotBe had. The suggestion? Repetition.”
31 contention: happiness, not fighting
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Prof itable
Those must be profitable people;They're heavily in the black.In fact, they resemble ninjasOn the verge of an attack.
5 They aren't in the redCars, which is wise;Insurance and tags for candyApple tower into the skies.Perhaps you should ask these
10 Goths how they became so richThat they choose to flaunt their financesWith apparel's every stitch.
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Decaffeinated Blue
There was no designWhich I could ascertain.The needlework wasn't intricate;The pattern was uniformly plain.
5 The fabric was a dully faded,Washed out, decaffeinated blue.It had no vibrance or vitalityOr spirit like you.The short sleeves were stitched on
10 Mechanically, it was a prefab.Why would someone wear a dressThat pained by being intensely drab.
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The Stee l Decanter
It had no surgical glint orGleam, yet it was made of steel.Fingering the handle and picking itUp, I ruled it had a pleasant feel.
5 It had a leaden weight, likeThe conscience of a spider32.But mugs with bulky solidnessAre the type that I prefer.Peering over the decanter's rim, it
10 Was noted to be pent up and emptyLike the thoughts called the heart of oneIn immature emotional slavery.
32 Spider: not just an animal, but also a weak and conspirative mortal.
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Nylon Pant
He breathed with a nylon pant atThe termination of his run.His breathing alone was enoughTo illustrate he'd not had fun.
5 It was stretchy and elastic;His rasping lungs, changing in size,Sounded as if they'd been covered inPantyhose as some sort of prize.Strong as nylon rope, the diaphragm
10 Held his forceful breathings together.From the sound of his honkings,He'd been under the weather.Artificial it was overall,A scene that was manmade;
15 He seemed to delight in weaknessAnd of real fibres be afraid.
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Twos
Tired of them saying “mine” orRefusing to take an order?Don't worry anymore for there's aCure for this twoyear old disorder.
5 It is a twostep processWhich requires equilibrium.In stage one the child mustBe spun round like a plum.Cradled in your arms, spin them
10 Up and down until dizzy.Convince them they're on a roller coaster ride,Whilst the sobriety of their mind's busy.Stage two begins by laying them on aCouch, rubbing their hair until frizzy.
15 Then, quickly tickle feet and ribsAnd such to arouse laughter.Wait, this is only a treatment;They'll still be two after.
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Surreal Kil ler
Breaking her neck in vicious glee,Maniac'ly laughing as it slaysThe gratuitous prostituteWho visits when the eyes do glaze
5 In the still awareness of nightWith spirits departing with day'sBreak , as they cannot remainSnuggled placably as where she lays,Due to torture's nocturnal law
10 Mandated for their life's forays.But in a jealous rageA cruél serving pageRids me of her each nightWhen first there shows light
15 By taking the life of the surrealDream sans asking how I feel[Comfortably complete at restUpon her changing breast.]
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Better Vision
Vision has not beenDistinct and clear always;It has taken millennia toReach the perception of today.
5 With all of these advances,What more can we not see?And is it by the intentionsOf God or flaws of humanity?It took a fruit that was taboo
10 For humans to past ignorance viewAnd realize it was in InnocenceThey did nakédly prance.God expanded it after a floodTo see a water droplet prism.
15 As Man observed from the mud,At fortyfive degrees was a rainbow.More recently came spectacles,Which have since spawned contacts,I don't like putting my finger
20 Near my eyes. That's just the facts.
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Chapter VI
Urea
Urine is like my loveFor you—relatively pure.It may have some contaminants,But their numbers are few.
5 I try to hold it in,But my love for you doth flowLike words from a poet's penWhen the muses have inspired.When for a while it's been unrelieved,
10 It refuses to stop.It eventually starts overflowing,Presenting some need for a mop.
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Elf
Thou art mine elf,Thou magical vixen.Upon my devious heart,Magic thou art fixing.
5 Earthcoloréd strandsOf worldly beautyFall their length, 'tisTheir enchanting duty.Thy starryeyed orbs
10 Laugh at the night,Sparkling to my heartA much brighter light.Thou must be a creatureThat was of magic made,
15 For magical is thy callTo my heart that won't fade.If weak thou becomestWhen parted from thy tree,How much weaker am I
20 When closer to thee?
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Odd Sensation
Have you, My Lady, ever hadThine nails trimmed to thy tips?I prithee do not bite them off;Leave sweeter things to thy lips.
5 But having the nails newly cutAnd smoothed beyond a snagless care,Remember thee the odd sensationOf washing thy hair?The futileness leaving one wanting more,
10 Is what love has in store.
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Venice
Gondola paddledipping swooningmy heart a love song crooningIridescent waves
5 sparkle imitating your eyematches it effects a sighGloaming buddingthe higher shades of purples and pinksI'm in love with you methinks
10 Gondola swayinglike the citadel of my soulbreak open my heart and proffer it you wholeStarlight shimmersfind me glancing
15 toward you whom is my heart romancingCirclet nocturnalsheds its pallid lightyour luminescence trembles my heart with mightDoubly alone
20 our loves do we shareof no one else are we awareSlapping gentlyriding these waves of wondersunlight rips the night asunder
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Vegetable Love
My love is a vegetable loveIncapacitating my thoughtWhen you draw near.My love is a vegetable love
5 I forget this worldWhen you are hereMy love is a vegetable loveI have no worries whenYou whisper in my ear
10 My love is a vegetable loveYou are my life support,My Darling Dear
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Adam's Rib
The fifth day commencedWith Adam's creation.After a while he grew wearyOf his lonesome situation.
5 Man was left toName and commandThe creatures of creationAs his own personal nation.Whilst one may speak to animals,
10 They cannot reply back to you.Adam noticed this deficiency;God noted this, too.During sleep a rib was removedTo create the first female.
15 Adam could feel this completionAs if it were Braille.Now because of this ribRemoved from his chest,Man only feels complete with
20 What was completed during rest33.
33 What. . . rest: woman
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Worldly
the cluck and clatterof this worldthis world around medoesn't matter
5 i want to betight in your armsand feel the joyjoyously snared in your charmsled to the slaughter
10 the slaughter is mebend your headand slaughter mei thought i had lost youi thought that i knew
15 but i hadn't lost youthat's shortly duelost in your lovelove lost with you
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Waylay
Waylay the thoughtWaylay the mindLeave it, leave itAll behind
5 Part of the dreamPart of what's real;Do not suppressWhat you feel.Reality is
10 A hoax, a ruse.Take this messagePrepare the news.Tell her I love her,Tell her I care,
15 Tell her, tell herI'll always be there.Silently watchingWoods, hollows, and dalesStalking unseen
20 Wherever the wind blows her sailsReach out and touch,Reach out and feel,Shudder and tremble;I am real.
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Without the Words
We are everythingWithout the words.To speak themWould profane
5 And destroyOur sacred world.A ring is givenIn silenceRecognition taken.
10 A dance is sharedIn silent thoughts.The only soundIs that of tonguesIdly flapping to
15 Distract what we both feelTo hide it.What would everyoneThink?
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Cold Sins
Woman, I love thee butNot thy hypothermic toes;Strike me not with themTill their warmth grows.
5 With you I am intact;Apart a mangled wreck.Oft' I wonder which state is best withThy chilled fingers placed upon my neck.Kiss me on my scratchy chin;
10 Envelope me in your limbs.But only after they confessAnd make penance for their cold sins.
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Digest ive Processes
There is no contempt in mineAction to on you spit.I only wish to consume thineSkin, savour, and digest it.
5 I long to masticate34 onYour sarcus35, bones, and soule;Transform you into a bolus36;And swallow you down whole.Inside me will be your love,
10 Your essence, and your spirit.I'll save you from stomach juices.Peristalsis37, do not fear it.You could help me grow;Use my cells as a dorm.
15 You'd be stronger than everIn your concentrated form.
34 masticate: chew35 Sarcus: flesh36 Bolus: a ball of mush which food is formed into before it swallowed37 Peristalsis: muscular contractions which force food through the digestive system
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An Idyll Goddess Whom One Cannot Help But to Revere
I should be ableTo write volumes for you,Not just a triflingPoem or two
5 Which cannot revealWhat you've meant to me.You are the greatestEvent in history.How could I possibly think of aught
10 Else when you are far or near;You are my idyll goddess whomI cannot help but to revere.I would38 to praise your gloryAnd sing you a million songs.
15 But, when would I have the spare time, When it is to you whom all of me belongs?
38 Would: wish
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Venice
Gondola paddledipping swooningmy heart a love song crooningIridescent waves
5 sparkle imitating your eyematches it effects a sighGloaming buddingthe higher shades of purples and pinksI'm in love with you methinks
10 Gondola swayinglike the citadel of my soulbreak open my heart and proffer it you wholeStarlight shimmersfind me glancing
15 toward you whom is my heart romancingCirclet nocturnalsheds its pallid lightyour luminescence trembles my heart with mightDoubly alone
20 our loves do we shareof no one else are we awareSlapping gentlyriding these waves of wondersunlight rips the night asunder
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S. Mooching
I only kissed herTo make her shush,But I continuedSilence in no rush
5 To hear or to seeHer crimson blush.We had communionPast when we couldn't breathe,But we were at our loom
10 Learning to intricately weave.An onlooker would've thoughtUs a human wreathe;If we'd separated forcefullyOur chests would heave.
15 Like this naught matterédBesides the pure elation,Not even when we diedOf breathless suffocation.Onward we kissed
20 Ignoring salvation,Smooching blissfullyEternity's duration;I'd no intentions of hearingHer whining frustration.
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Chapter VII
To You
Sit I melancholy here all aloneIn a depressed, apathetic mind zone39.Sadly, I have nothing better to doThan to be insignificant to you.
5 When I think of earth's each twisted wonderThat cannot help but easily depress,Think I of ye with such unmatched successTo convince me it is only blunder.Neither insp'ration nor jubilation
10 Art thou, but perhaps an condemnationTo those emotions of mine wellbeloved.Nevertheless, will I have anon40 shovedYour resemblance into verbosityOr some other tripe that purges glee.
39 Mind zone: a frame of mind; comparable to a time zone40 Anon: soon
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Nothings
Naught against thy complexion, lighten up;The world overfills the foolish's cup.I've noted your sparing moderationIn all things excepting consternation
5 Of actions and speech some count as pleasure.Frilless and wise, you're ne'er found at leisure.Indeed, though the world's riches pass you by,You're an attentive sentry and would tryTo force others to respect your wishes.
10 In short, like the height of dwarven dishes,Others must curb what they'd normally sayOr watch thine holy temper like wires fray.I wish I could so stupidly believeAnd be just as you: hostilely naïve.
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Shour Drapes
Nakédly attired with a drapery,Does your shower curtain of sullennessShield from the eyes of mortal knavery?You stand ankledeep in a flooded mess,
5 Which could be symbolic for many nouns41,Though meant as emotions and peers as42 clowns.It deflects and retains wat'ry feelingsWhose loss, like heat, would send senses reeling.Its sable gives a mood of appearance
10 Whilst shelt'ring from any outside advance.When wrinkled ye part the curtain of frowns,Will ye don the doffed one of the two gownsAnd be the innocent maiden beforeOr one much wiser and happier more?
41 Nouns: person, place, thing, idea42 As: that are
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Ashore
Albeit, I know you could never sin,Since perfection comes without from within.It touches ev'ry aspect of your form—The round eyes your golden face does adorn,
5 Thy blemishless skin 'neath which you take dorm,Your ears, and how your hair is shorn.To gaze upon your form does me distress;Even reverent glances must transgress.What a radiant goddess graces earth!
10 How you have mortal men much affrighted!We scurry lest defects should be sighted,Which'd afterwards make us e'er curse birth.Prithee, what is it like within your core,Since countenance's where weak wash ashore?
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Golden T ips
I'm watching thy fingers glow in the lightAn orangish shade, which is weird to my sight.And, though you are pure and full of His might,Within the recesses43 you are as night44.
5 Sadly, I've realized romance is hopeless.I'm leaving shortly for obligation,And it would only destructively stressThe living mem'ry of unsep'ration.Ergo, I'll try to never speak those words
10 Which pain by being loathsomely absurd.Woe for my guiltéd conscience should I dazeWith the utt'rance misplaced of Satan's phrase“I love you.” Gracious! How those words do goad!You sound sexy when raspy as a toad. . .
43 Recesses: interior of the structure44 As night: coated in dark shadows
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Tr ipping Up
Up am I tripping and in love fallingWith thy angelic frustration. Of course,Thou dost know that, though thine hair is sprawlingAround thine shoulders, I do it45 by force—
5 Which easily categorizes thee.Gladly upon myself do I imposeThe vain desire to suffer your love's throes;I'm no idiot to wish to be free.After all, it is the proper manner
10 To fall for love, as autumn is the best,And winter pains loving with death's behest.One canst not purchase beads from a tanner46.I'm wont for casual, chilled affectionAfter summer's heated misdirections.
45 It: fall in love46 One canst. . . tanner: you've got to do things correctly, properly, and orderly.
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To Differ
For me to feel not as the others doWould require me to fall in love with you,For I doubt that this emotion anyMortal for you possesses. Not many
5 Humanoids [they're devoid of a heart] attainThis fickle passion, but, instead, refrainAnd partake of the constancy of Lust,Which needs not a name, commitment, or trust.Though some men would like in lesser degrees,
10 It's not countable as love when from these,Since love's unconditional and completeSurrender. None love you, for some like heat;Your frigid love would be warm like the burnOf ice too long grasped only, I discern.
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Olivia
It is a simple word meaning so muchThat when whispered it feels like your soft touchRacing ghastly across mine goosefleshed neck ,
Immigrating across mine chillbumped neck.5 My heart is emotionally idle;
It only pumps my coursing blood. IdyllAre you not, but I could live lazilyEre of aft47 of ye, though days crazilyDash themselves to exhaustion while we rest
10 In the thoughtless repetition of zest—Laden utterances that race the heart.And like wings beating at a troubled dart48, I fall to rise not and play a mad game.It says everything49. O, what an wonderful name!
47 Ere or aft: before or behind48 Dart: a thin, arrowlike shaft hurled at a corkboard bullseye49 Everything: I love you
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Olive
I fancy you're something of an olive,And, though those branches mayst be by a doveBourne, there is none superior to theeAnd none higher, though thou be from a tree50.
5 Much of that color is your complexionNaturally, with tanning's neglection.Voluptuous, you're nicely pump and round,Though not as most portly fellows I've found.You've no need of envy; should you be green,
10 It's only because there's much you've not seen.It's well you're not black51; it's such a sweet taste.Green bitterness prevents meaningless haste.You must be unpitted [you have a heart.]An onion you'd be, knew I where to start.
50 Thou. . . tree: olives grow on trees51 Black: a black olive
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Onion
Your silence speaks volumes, though it's turned down.What are you hiding behind each cold frown?It's distressing that you're multiply layered,For now to onions can you be compared.
5 In each action and thought are endless more,Which serves to masquerade your meaning's core.You're planted beneath, where you'd not be found,Although your purity's not with dirt bound.Surely all onions must thrive in the rain,
10 For you bring tears I cannot explain.Be they for joy? Like nature's onion shellYou've many true colours; you are female.You're the season52 of a meaningful life;Joy's blandly tasteless, comes it not with strife.
52 Season: spice
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Weakening
It's inevitable, something I knewWould occur from falling in love with you.I decided to fall for boredom's sake;Like leaves I'm at the mercy of a rake.
5 But how long until I soften to you,And will guilty time stretch forth and accrueThe cursed evidence sufficient enoughTo prove that my handlings of you're less roughThan ere a simple exploit53 was taken
10 That has reason from my mind quite shaken?A trifling thought of you celebratingWas enough to set my mind gyrating.I'd love to act as friends and as before,But I must soften to you. It's my chore.
53 Simple exploit: falling in love
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Vanguard
I cannot stand up for and protect youOnly because I do not know how to.Should I lampoon the ignorant of youOr throttle with harsh words chosen to blue?
5 How should I at all for you interveneWithout creating a suspicious scene?I wish not earth to know whom I favour54;Embarrassment's not a thing I savour.Only awkward can I presently be,
10 As always, should I try to defend thee.Thus, when your actions everyone mistakes,I must swallow silence, though my tongue quakes.The question is now how would you react?I've seen you wrothly moved and lacking tact.
54 Favour: like
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Entitlements
As discussed, you're in no need of a tan,Albeit you have no fear of burning.Some might delight in calling you a witch,But it shows massive flaws in their learning,
5 Which was probably stopped or ne'er received.But don't worry of me, I'm a big fan.Thus, ergo, I am blind to any glitchWhich you can't have. Does this make you relieved?I feel you're proper, and this I don't feign:
10 Perfection like you's entitled to deign.Why can't they look into your eyes unblueAnd drown in the cold depths and catch the flu?What right do they have to feel your equal,For you are unique and have no sequel?!
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Fleece
Fleece, it becomes you and your colour foils.I would you were a sheep; it'd end toilsInvolved with labouring for affection—A burning acid worse than infection.
5 An a sheep you were, you'd be led with easeAstray or home or wherever my knees'Bendings might take us in abandon's care.Have you ever wondered what it's like therePast the mundane barnyard you reside in
10 Somewhere on the distant horizon?Should mindless you rest at a burbling brook ,Would you obey the nudgings of a crook?Though you oft' wear fleece, it's not gold but white,And purity hinders the fun of night.
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Unrestrainéd Pass ion Prevents Clear Thought
I am always bummed when I'm down and out,And my prickly pride is peeved when I pout;But your presence's sight e'er helps me out,Because I'm an insignificant lout.
5 Though you aren't blind, sin you cannot see;You aid through innocence passionatelyGuarded which verily doth amuse me.I'm thankful for what you can never be.One can never know what one does not learn;
10 Fire absent from matter can never burn.I would love you not, had you not taught me:Passion'd be meaningless, an it were free.Note symbolism in this example:Sinful night, me, finds moonlight ample.
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Addiction on the Mind
Oh, I could easily get over you,I think , if I but ever wanted to.This differs from, though I would not take bets,Those addicted to drugs and cigarettes.
5 But why would I force myself to forsakeLove, when it will be slayne, as if with a stake.Alack , Time is the great vanquisher. FriendsOft' arise matured to find friendship endsWith silent separation and moving
10 Of houses or desires. It's behoovingTo enjoy Love's passing transience,Though this is not realized by the less dense.My, I'm fond of how your eyes bug with style,But I'm more addicted to your rare smile.
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Expected
How odd to see you in attention bask.Like kelp in whale maws or a sunlit cask55,Some destruction your image will accrue.What a pity you act as some girls do;
5 I'd had such high expectations of ye.I cry inside, though I smile to you seeEffervescent, feminine, flirty. TrueStoicism's why I had rather loved you,But, though a loved's no longer as once deemed,
10 I'd been a fool to believe all's as seemed.In preparation for the imminentDay, I have thought about what my love's meant:You're like an old me, ergo ye must change,And your actions. . . well, love does oft' derange.
55 A sunlit cask: a cask of some brew left out in the hot sun and not down in a cellar somewhere.
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Volve
Change anymore than you've already done,And I'll know catastrophe has begun.It would be as if a museum caught fireWhich held Egypt's artifacts of each sire.
5 The building and values within goneWould be trifling, cease you to be your own.You've been perfect since you I have but seenThat first occasion when I truly sawYour fig'rative innards and not the sheen
10 Of chilled beauty, which does equally awe.Change you, how could it be for the better?You are perfect; water can't get wetter.I would have you in a preserved stateWith your dark tresses falling from your pate.
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Groggy Mumblings
My turmoiled conscience could I not rest till,Perched crookedly upon your window sill,Where I shan't stay long but guiltily actUncouthly in desperate need of fact,
5 From the amorphous56 I would creep to whereI could hear your soft breathings, see your hairIn the silverwhite of pallid moonlight.Whispering softly, as sneaking teens might,Into your ears my words I would query
10 And of your response I would be waryFor the hoped response of your earnest stanceOn topics such as I and on romance.Hopefully in sleep you'd reply withoutInhibitions and clear up what I doubt.
56 Amorphous: glass is an amorphous solid
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1280x1024x32bpp
Sigh. Even though I verily doth sayThat I wish for thy joy in ev'ry way,There's but one reason that you slip awayFrom mine impotent power on this day.
5 If I can't persuade a goddess, why pray?It would only show how weak I trulyAm should I protest and be unrulyIn this sorrowed parting and genuinelyDisplay the emotion man's not known for57.
10 Would to you I could seem a piggish boar58
And keep magic with me forevermore.I can't stop you going where your will's sent,Since I'm worthless as the Council of Trent59.Perhaps you'll flourish with one different.
57 Man's. . . for: tenderness and crying58 Piggish boar: if I were stingy and chauvinistic, I'm certain that you would love me.59 Council of Trent: committee that convened to correct the corruption of the Catholic church and hopefully nip
Protestantism in the bud.
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Demanotation 60
But what in love's incapacitationKnow I for madness's jubilation?For you I suffer decapitation61.Thus, canst thou hold irrationality
5 Against me 'sif 'twere some legality?You said I'd a weird personality'Pon the primary occurrence we met,As destined by the paths long ago set.Know I little of propriety, fret
10 Not, for I intend to worship in mind,Where all's as can be wished and e'en you're kindAnd for undue charges I am not fined.I love ye more'n could e'er be requited62.To love you a crime, I'd be indicted.
60 Demanotation: a contrived term for cutting off the hand, much like decapitation means to remove the head61 For you. . . decapitation: I've lost my head for you62 I love you. . . requited: I love you more than you could ever love me
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Cur iae
It would take a Supreme Court ruling toInterpret the odd love I feel for you.But would I think it just when it is through?After all, should it63 have trouble with the
5 Pursuit of defining obscenity64,Then I must question its authorityTo tell I, a lover!, what love is. ISay love's more fleeting and grand65; should it66 tryTo capture love in mundane words, I'd sigh
10 To see it67 with the abstract68 waste its timeAnd send the good children69 to weigh a crimeOr some such small thing and love in my prime.What wisdom's made me expert in love's might?Only the first and all subsequent sights70.
63 It: the Supreme Court64 Should it. . . obscenity: Supreme Court Justices have been unable to define profanity and obscenity, but just say, “I
know it when I see it.”65 More fleeting and grand: than obscenity, or the Supreme Court if you prefer.66 It: the Supreme Court67 It: the Court68 Abstract: love is an abstract idea69 Good children: the Supreme Court Justices70 Only the first. . . sights: of you
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Moors
Utopia's nowhere71 was newly foundWhere you trod, as it is hallowéd ground.Yea, there do the lilies and violets springInto beauty as a poetic thing!
5 “My Goddess, ye art perfect!” Angels sing,Who worship with voice as bird on the wing.A whole civilization could be built'Round the holy waters your eyes have spilt,Since 'round rivers are low ones72 constructed.
10 Gorgeous grace that realm will have seducted73.Rejoicing, they'd worship you as their queen.You're grand, they're base, and there's naught in between.The multitudes would give their lives for you;They'd wish there was something more they could do.
71 Utopia's nowhere: utopia means nowhere72 Low ones: these unimportant, earthly civilizations73 Seducted: abducted through seduction
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Pebbles
Said a hot collection of vibrant gasLoosely collected, a nebulant lass,Via the colours of her cloudy eyeThe question 'ternal, “How do you love I?”
5 To the hotplasmaed star who would her woo.“Well beyond the wildest ration and true;Almost as much as those two humans do,”Replied he as he pointed with a flareTo the mortals at which the stars do stare
10 For their radiance of love which e'er grewAnd like a supernova lit the skyIn awe. The noble star meant you and I,But stars are worthless pebbles, like the moon.I can only value seeing you soon.
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Sr i Lanka
And the nebula of colours twistedSpake to the star whom for her love listed,And with logic sensibly insistedThat the pow'r of our love they could ne'er match.
5 It'd be impossible as to catchA shooting star as love as we two do;Theirs would die when existence desisted.The red giant took this not as offense,For love's been reputed to make all dense,
10 And there are some it's e'en made go insane.She laughed as a child and questioned again,For one should e'er question the depths of love,Even should one live in the stars above.Such coquettish makes it a pleasant brew.
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Chapter VIII
All My Fr iends
All my friends are criminals;They're gonna catch us all one dayAnd take us off to prisonFar, far, far away.All my friends are in a cult;They worship goat and slaughter lamb.I'll miss them all after todayOnce they've jumped off Hoover Dam.One of my friends is Fifi,
10 She's plastic and belongs to another friend.She may not be that tall,But she lives to show it all,And she's shown it all off before.All of these voices are in my head,
15 They make me do very bad things;And honest officer that's why I'm nude,'Cause I was listening to that streaker dude.
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To the Dearly Regarded
I may not have muchOf a soul left,But it is mine to keep.Bugger off you wicked
5 Beast, and let me sleep.Some tell you to get behind;You lead others on a leash.Personally, stand where you want,Just let me have some peace.
10 Did you honestly think thatI'd be snared by your offer?I'm in enough trouble on my own;I need not the traps you proffer.
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Golden
The hue and shade of yourHair is that of violence74.It would to rob me ofAll of my little sense.
5 The length of those lustrousLocks flog and flay your back.The thought I can't apprehend's ofHow you endure such an attack.I've tried hard in nothings75
10 To capture that suspect.Though I'd braid it hand cuffs, itWould escape for my neglect.It tortures me because in manyRespects I am never to have it;
15 The eagle76 of a peaceful lifeHas upon my window sill lit.Violence is golden in nature,An element of seventyNine protons men fight and die over
20 Rather idiotically.Fie on blasted gold! It'sThe false idol of anAvarant religionPracticed by mortal man.
74 Hue. . . violence: “Violence is golden,” something I've heard not only from John Fogerty's album Eye of the Zombie.75 Nothings: whispering sweetnothings76 The eagle: chosen because it is symbolic of fierce upstarts and such
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You So Mean
You so meanI think I'm in love,Your very presence makesMe see the stars above.
5 No wait, that was a slap;I deserved it, I suppose.Each time I stare intoThose ice floesOf your eyes where
10 Polar bears don't creep. . .The sun glows brighter whenYou close them for sleep.You become a different shade of beautyDepending on how you position your hair.
15 I would elaborate further, but IDon't wish to get scratched anywhere.
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Nice in a New Year ' s Kind of Way
You are so niceIn your wayThat is best expressedWith New Year's Day
5 Moreso than anyOther set holiday.You are nice to haveAnd to celebrate,Although I wonder
10 Sometimes, as of late.You are nice to admireFor beauty, temper, and aweAs on New Year's when I sawThe colourful works of fire.
15 You are nice upon occasion,Such as the rare one mentioned here.But then no reprieve from your temperDo we receive the rest of the year.
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Musician
You wish to be a great musician,But you wish not to teach.Instead, you'd rather dedicate your timeTo using your music to preach
5 To others of the Lord, or learningMusic that is more intricateThan what you can currently play,Because this hunger you cannot sate.Sometimes your words and actions
10 Strike me as hypocrisy,But the fittest and most justJudge is and never will be me.There are certain notes recordedIn your book and conversations
15 That are odd enough to impress; it's aShame I can't share some of my observationsWithout becoming less of a person,More of an evil in your sight.I've already been called Satan,
20 And words like that bite.
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I'm Sor ry
I'm sorry for a great manyThings over these past two yearsThat have driven us apart;Stabbed as 'mazonian spears.
5 Once the down side ofThe Schwartz77 we fought,And we could finishEach the other's thoughts.
77 down. . . Schwartz: a reference to the classic movie Spaceballs
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Lump of Clay
How did you nabThose femmes that quick?This new kid routineTruly makes me sick.
5 Like a lump of clayYou've been tossed about;But that's what being inNinth grade's all about.Enjoy being ragged
10 While you're a freshman;But by all means tormentUnderclassmen when you can.
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Walnut Shel l
She's in love with him, butShe doesn't know it yet;When she caves in, heWon't let her forget.
5 She doesn't like to run,She doesn't like the beach,But in a few more yearsShe'll be within his reach.She's like a walnut shell,
10 Easy to crack after roasting.“I'm gonna wear her down,'Even now he's boasting.
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Empty Crush
I'm too good to youYou have told me,But all I do isGive you candy
5 And complimentYour wild beautyAnd fantastic shortnessAnd how it affects me.I have an empty crush
10 On you that can never be.You don't like my type,Although you may like me.
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Makes Me Sick
People like you make me sick. MyHands are sore from writing this mess,But you did not bother to skim.That upsets me, I must confess.
5 What else upsets me?The conversations we've hadRelating similar thoughts andExperiences quite sad.Let's go for a morning run
10 Sometime after midnight,Tekno out to Prodigy, ask theDictionary if the spelling's right.
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Self Destructor
It is almost as ifYe are condescendingWhen, through your ill actions,Your life you are ending.
5 Mean you to make it seemThat others are not worthYour effort requiredTo rid them of this earth?Do ye destroy thyself because
10 It is proper of thy station,Or is it only due to yourFatalistic resignation?
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Insults on the Trampol ine
Anthony, my old friend, A decade has come to an endWhen we did joke and playAround almost everyday.
5 Remember playtime being put onHold due to a mandate to clean,Or how about Butler's Store, forts,And insults on the trampoline?I'm in the Navy now,
10 And so are you,Because the Marines areA branch of the dark blue.Be a good officer, Mr. T,But remember I'm on the A Team
15 From middle school. That's such a whileAgo that it seems as if a dream.
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Pecan Man
They don't call you PecanMan without reason,But we'll discuss thatNext cross country season
5 When I am a chaperonAt the State Championships,It's been said your ears canLike radar pick up blips;But that's just a derogatory remark
10 Like many you make about others,Their looks, actions, clothing,Cars, shoes, and their mothers.You're short, lightweight, andMean like a rabid pug,
15 And you seem to gloat at beating meAt State when I ran like a slug.
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Genetically Engineered
I am genetically engineeredTo be only myself,To be computer literate,And to fantasize about an elf
5 And sometimes about whipCream as it pertains to sex.My genes have made me be attractedBy the concepts of QNX78.I can't be anyone else;
10 It's the fault of DNAThat I am writing thisIn mine own special way.
78 QNX: a real time operating system that's neat
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Braggart of Unworthy Boasts
Ev'ry thing ye count asWorthy of manly praiseHath offended me quiteA bit these past few days.
5 Ye claim of having she asPale as snowed ColoradoTo be the slave of thine whimAnd fire for thy bravado.Ye claim to be the pimp
10 Daddy, Mac, Homey, G,But, though thou tryest hard, thyAttempts are just funny.Little of which ye bragHas calibre, and most
15 Often y'art an braggartOf an unworthy boast.
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Take It , Easy
Despite what other friends may do,I only find evil in you.Though they may swear and curse and fight,I am assured they're in the Light,
5 Unlike you who would lead astrayAll to be the victims you'd playWith mentally and greedily prey'Pon emotions until you'd slayWith little guilt and less remorse
10 Than an old, rabid, legless horse.What good's a steed has it no legs?You burn through friends 'sif powder kegsThey are. I'd fancy you a tart,But you've been one from the start;
15 Thus there is no need to pretend.Woe to the paths you've made them wend;They only breed turmoilFought over such worthless soil.
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Prejudice Fades
What a shame it isThat prejudice fadesFrom glossy black intoNumerous gray shades.
5 Don't get me wrong,You I didn't wish to like,Yea, I'd rather haveRun you o'er with my bike.It seems I'm out of the clouds,
10 Flat feet on the soilAnd it is beneath me, I think ,To cause turmoil.Seems I've grown accustomedTo your offensive ways
15 After having been aroundThem for years and days.You upset me no more,Still I want you not as a friend,Forget this ever happened,
20 There. The END.
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A Return to This Nothingness
You left to be a Viking,Though thou possess not hornsOr helmet or gilded sword,Which thine two hands hath borne.
5 Two plain body parts wouldThose by which you grasp with beHad they not befriendedBy association me.In Scandinavian
10 Silence, remote and of glee,A short forever livedYou hopefully from friendships free.We could not bring you downThere, as always before;
15 Escaped ye from our taintWhich now corrodes our gore.But why from 'cross the salt shouldYou return to nothingness?I'd you'd raid another land
20 Where hypocrites not transgress.
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Mea Culpa
I must apologizeFor talking aught of girls.We should have been smart, andWe should have hunted squirrels.
5 I troubled you sans needWith such meaningless talkThat I should've been foundFace down outlined in chalk.Instead, ourselves and our
10 Friendship was ruinédBy the regretful thingsThat each bitterly said.Maybe, were I betterAt giving love's advice,
15 I could've saved your turmoil,And I'd not count such talk vice.
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Penguins on My Own
Fine! I'll adopt my penguins,They still need a homeTo protect them from orcas,You, and dogs that foam.
5 It's a tough life on the streetsFor penguins on iceFlippers would hinder successEven if they got a slice.I told you I wanted our
10 Penguins. You said, “That's nice.”You then left after burning thePot roast and beating me up thrice.But I'll raise my penguinsWell after they're grown.
15 I would have let you,But you're painfully gone.You told me you hate me andWould rather wing it alone.
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Tally
And you gave e'én me a hug!'Twas 'sif an angel fellFrom heaven so that I'd not shrug.I'm feeling passing well.
5 An you gave me e'én me a kiss,Who would you let me tellOf utmost achievable bliss?I would feel passing well.An you gave e'en me your voice's
10 Sweet whispers as an ocean's shell,I'd faint, as one oft' does.I would feel passing well.An you gave e'én me your loveAnd all that does entail,
15 I'd treasure it eternity.I would feel passing well.An you gave e'én me your handIn marriage, I'd try not to failTo make you happy e'er.
20 I would feel passing well.An you gave e'én me the timeOf day, I'd not feel HellWhile watching you flirt with others;Then I'd feel passing well.
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Burned Out Beacon
You once were the beautiful brightBeacon to all boys bosoms, but nowYou're just a little possessed snot.Lay off my friend, it's his life, his right;
5 And your fiery words are too hot.Everyone can't be perfect like youAnd turn their homework promptly in continuallyOr function impeccably in clubs like you expect them to.You are such a jerk , which you do not see
10 Because a little diademic halo rests beneath your brow.
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Taste in Decisions
You have the worstTaste in everything,And from the firstTime you've not cared.
5 Your selections in menAre something of a feat;You filter out the decentTo find the ones that beat.Your preferences in their
10 Best friends prove you a nut;You love a nipping,Deranged, and disgusting mutt.You can't even pick moods;They are ever switching.
15 One moment you're all tears,The next you're. . . coughing.You can't make an intelligentChoice in your decisions.It's hard not to laugh at the steps
20 You take to reach your visions.
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For a Spl it Second
You better make your mark ,Because you're burning out fast.If you keep this harm up, then,Like an artist, you won't last.
5 A meteor incineratesBrilliantly, then finds itself gone.To last for an extended time,You must be plain as the phone.You've got to nimbly skirt
10 The fine line of selfdestructionBetween oblivion and fameTo prevent a life reduction.Please don't become an artist,They never seem to reach old age,
15 And instead perish young, asIf by the curse of a mage.
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.Jpg
By all means protectYour precious imageWhile you neglectYour self and desires
5 For the codependent wishFor the group to like you,Which influences the actionsIn public that you do.Over the extra speakers
10 You added to give bassYou blast “cool” musicTo save reputation's face.It'd be different if you liked the music,And it intruded not upon your style.
15 But with acquaintances and girls youWon't listen to anything worthwhile;The volume must go up andThe bass must thump with successTo showcase your bragging rights to the
20 Uninterested you would impress.
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E'er y Thing Changes You
Everything changes you,Not just the military.Were you not equally asMorphed by the tooth fairy
5 When you knew she did not exist? HowAbout with Santa or the Bunny79?I find your childish fearsNot the least bit funny.I know what has changed you most recently, a
10 Stupidly childish immature little girlWho set your tipsyturvy80 into aPitilessly stoppable swirl.Give over, you've got to giveUp on some of your friends,
15 For each path must terminate,And every friendship ends.Next time before you annoyingly callTo selfishly profess against change,Think of life as the mosaic of rearrange
20 And of how immature whelplettes81 derange.
79 Bunny: the Easter Bunny80 Your tipsyturvy: life81 Whelplettes: female welps
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Pampers
You just want to be lovedAnd pampered and flatteredUntil such an time whenIt wouldn't have mattered.
5 You require gifts moreThan one man could affordAnd treasures of love greaterThan could ever be stored.And if you could attain
10 These, happy you'd be;Your joy would alsoDelightfully content me.
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Packaging
I must disagree. The perfectPackage isn't a Coke bottle,But the form of a girl I knowWho should be a [role] model.
5 Her physique begs the question,“What more could she need?”Her legs enable her the abilityTo run down a galloping steed.What's more she's kept her faith
10 With all the temptations she's provided,While, through this comparatively drabPlane, like Elegance she has glided.
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A Mus
If you and I should ever be, thenWe'd have to be occasional loversWith periods of space andIntervals under covers.
5 Like a friend I detest youAfter extended exposure, thusTo keep my attraction for youSharp as the repeat of a musKet, separation is the key.
10 Addiction builds up mine toleranceTill euphoria and overdose areEmpty as twenty years of donning pants.Unlike some with whom I loveWhen with; loathe when apart;
15 I need breaks from your monotonyTo cherish you freshly as at the start.Addiction builds up mine toleranceTill the euphoria and overdose areEmpty as twenty years of putting on pants.
20 Thus things are.
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Poetic Inter ference
Lamentfully, I can never entertainThe notion to blissfully marry you,No matter how very muchI may want, long, pine to.
5 I cannot write to you an ode,Despite your being gorgeously lush.You are such an uninspiringLass that crimsonly I blush.I would be perennially
10 Married the span of April from MayIf, sadly, you weren'tUninspiration's obedient face.
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Fact Smiles
I would swear we were facsimiles, but I'veAlready given someone else that name.Thus, you can't be my replica.If it's all the same
5 To you, can I fancyUs as comparable?The seeds of quiet discourseHath found our minds arable.In juxtaposed distance we both
10 Arrived at the same conclusionsAbout aspects of life and societySome would call delusions,And if they are correct, still,We thought alike, you see.
15 Is that how things worked with theOriginators of philosophy?
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Pluto and Charon
Off in space, as it seems,Disconnected darkly whereNone could hear the screamsOf tortured coldness
5 Except for the occasionalNeptune passing by,Who you probably wouldn'tLet hear you crySince away from such
10 You brokenly ran awayParting from grave orbitIn a memory far away.Of you twain escape artistsWhich of you works the hardest
15 And which is most rife with sinAnd evil down below within?Charon the loving boatmanWho does others deliverTo Hell, your pal, who is
20 Larger only a sliver.Or Pluto, the incarnate HellWhose atmospheric shell's frailAs a mask where all can seeIn the light there it does be
25 On the one half thinly in gleeFor hiding the darkly empty.Calmly with pure intentsYou happen to deceiveYourself, Charon, and all souls
30 From him you do receive.Though one of you is biggerIn the force of gyration,The tugging created diminishesYou both in force of the rotation.
35 With the elliptical orbit whichIs planetarily unfitting
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Throughout the spinning galaxyYou seem to be sittingUnable to truly master collaborative
40 Force, as in a gerrymander.You'll never become the somethingMuch more powerful and grander.Woe you weren't the hidden planet thatInfluences the orbit of Neptune;
45 You separated and settledFor being a double moon.
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Feef
There was no denying she wasA sweet girl, if small,Who, though gregarious, hadLittle to say at all.
5 She was an inflatable doll, though“Deflatable” would be the word others'd use.She was perhaps a case study aGuidance counselor would peruse.Vitality and enthusiasm ever
10 Did she gradually tend to lose.Her selfesteem was variable,Albeit, as her chest, never flat.She was mediocrily brilliant, andI never entertained her to be fat.
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Will
What will you buy of mineWhen I'm dead and finally matter?Will you react at the news,Or will it you shatter?
5 Will you attend my funeral,If they can find my remains?After my sad passage,Will you cease flying planes?Will you attend the auctions,
10 If I have anything of some worth?Will you steal from my familyThe memories collected since birth82?Will you call me a great poetTo increase precious book sales?
15 What memorabilia will be soldWhile the event's awareness prevails?When I leave everything,Will I truly have nothing?Maybe friends will recall me;
20 That will be something.
82 Memories. . . birth: artifacts, knickknacks, pictures, toys, etc.
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Upon Awakening
If you awake in the morning,As is known not to always occurDue to sleep deprivation, parties, death,And whatever else you would infer,
5 Then, greatly inquisitive,I would beg to knowIf you are as unscathed as beforeLife's dreams you did undergo,And ask of you to send word in
10 Message, unless you vaguely forgetAs you awake calmly from theRepast mental83 in a nervous sweat.
83 Repast mental: sleep
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Chapter IX
All Things Great and Small
I feel it my duty toAll things great and small praise,From the lowly king toThe mighty ant on his dais.
5 And if it is not my duty,I'd like it to be my wish.Every pelican deserves recognitionJust as each unborn fish.I'd love to lavish the world
10 In my dialect's simplenessAnd in splendour and elaboratenessEvery unclothéd bear redress84.
84 Redress: dress again
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Gluck
As with death, when one mustApology extendFor lacking aught to sayAs the mind doesn't lend
5 Necessary sincereWords for the occasionBut proves to be like anIncan to an Asian—Foreign and unaware,
10 What should one say when told“Good luck?” Is it, “I willPerform many a foldBetter than I could ha'e,An those words you'd not spake?”
15 Should one inquire whose legOne is supposed to break?Do they doubt my intentWhen saying, “Do your best!”?If I'm to be a robin,
20 I'd have to be a red breast!
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So
What 'tother word will ever beAs forsaken, scorned, and unfairlyPersecuted as innocent “So,”Who lost her maidenhead long ago?
5 So what if her use is free andOften and gladly by the hand?Another harlot hath Jesus savedFrom humanity which fickly raved.The loving of So was e'er pleasant
10 Till guilt from the hunts of witch, not pheasant—O woe, what a dark and jealous timeWhen man killed to hide adult'rous crimeAnd blamed his transgression upon sheWho must've bewitched magic'ly
15 As he would never abuse powerYet manged still to steal her flowers—Carried over into grammarAnd for shame guilty did stammerAnd deny e'er knowing her sweet love
20 On any plane below or above.Illreputed, unfrequented,Wrongly hated, So lamentedAnd was picked at by generationsWho art oft' the prior's compilations.
25 Beware, words and women, men's heartsHaven't love or constancy. CartsAre sometimes filled to the brim, butAll can be removed that was put.Which of ye easylovers to boot
30 Will next eagerly follow So's suit,A, an, the, because, and, but, for, nor,Or, yet? Words soon'll be used no more.
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Joshing? Me?
Prithee, concerning whom was thePhrase “Joshing you” originated?We must say it's certainlyBeen an idiom we've hated.
5 Must've been an idiot,Perhaps one drenched in shame,That he pretended JoshWas his truthful name.All the Joshes we know
10 Are upstanding citizens.We do not act asHe'll Joshing denizens.We would never act in suchA way; we're sure we've been framed,
15 Presumably by the one who Charlie'sHorse's moniker so maimed.
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A Phil iac 's Metamorphoses
Quote me not unless bored, butI was taught to never changeFor love—a fickle abstractionThat does easily derange.
5 The application of this maximHas negative implicationsShould obsesséd freaks andThe like be any indication.Their intent of intense desire
10 Varies seldomly over time;It is this loyalty whichIs consideréd the crime.Should a person change not,Relationships could prove hairy
15 Due to obstinate clashings andDrinking of products dairy.God is love and ye mustNot have truly repentedIf sinful ways ye change not
20 Despite what He's said and hinted.Sex itself could prove uncomfortableShould changing be not involved;The problem of bothersome clothesInterfering'd have to be solved.
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Chapter X
“Haiku's for No One”Haiku's for no one,For my perfect lovely girlWho was never named.
“Sweetness”Her voice is as sweetAs the words it ne'er will speak.My muted beauty.
“Si lk”Shaggy spider web silkSandy blonde at rootsStrawberry at the tips
“Conditioner”Fondles her midbackFinger stroking windilyCoiled for emphasis
“A Green Ground”Yellow rivuletsOf limestone green, purple poresSpecked with birthstone blue.
“Pools”All expression andCommunication should swimIn these profound thoughts.
“Lips”Fleshbills as soft as musicFull as gibbous moonPale as unspoke thought
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“A Taste”Receptive moist skinEden tastes as orange sherbertE'er pleasing and chilled
“Tegument”Marred with complexionAs soft as her gentle heartFreckled where I kiss
“Thermal Need”Meager coveringTo touch ever chilled as iceRequiring my warmth
“Llama”Name as rolling andLong as the Georgia PiedmontOr family feud
“Camel”A boyscout snake, thisLabel ties up tongue andConstricts capacity
“Indecencies”With froggy toes webbedHer feet will be as flippers;I hate being pinched.
“Necking”A polished towerHair's curled from the left, behind,Over to bosom
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“Objectivity”Proportional to allThings to her figureBe it petite or plump.
“Thailand”Surface tension smoothAs stretchéd and long as my loveFor her will last.
“A Doll”Height is important.She must be lifesized enoughTo be seen by all.
“A Right to Bear”These cannot beUnderestimated she doesNeed them to grasp me.
“Obelisks”Delicate powerShafts strong enough to supportThe weight of my head
“Washington”The roll is callédTheir number is thirtytwoIn their gum wrapper
“SemiVery Precious”Pearly offwhite stones must beLong enough for herTo lovingly nip
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“Singing How She Does”The deformationIsn't length or shapeBut it's desire to nuzzle
“Licking? Good”To hold like a dreamLong as needs be with the nailsGilded like stained glass
“Placement”Like dwarves in cavernsFitting comfortably inThe vastness of mine.
“Jo jo”Stately as naught else,Fleshed out to prevent ennuí85,Unslumpéd grandeur
“Maybe”When I see my loveOutside of dream, then I'd sayEarthy love exists.
85 Ennuí: boredom, and such
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Chapter XI
Travels
A person's made by the travels;It's not merely decoration.We're a product of our knowledge garneredFrom experience's confrontations.
5 Education is a trip toDispel ignorant illusions.Should one enjoy that cruise, one'dBe filled with new allusions.In dreams we oft' walk alone
10 Or flee from internal wraths.Is it not delightful whenOne treads down the psychopaths86?What is a travel but a chanceTo learn how little we know?
15 Education, literature,And dreams are joys from which to grow.
86 Is it not. . . the psychopaths: the paths in the mind; I've never trampled a psychotic deranged.
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Br idges
We sat atop bridges, thoughOur lives we couldn't cross.Though I loved her lots,She felt for me dross.
5 Poised blandly admiring murkyWaters of the Ochlocknee,I forgot about her and dreamedOf my old home near the sea.Near Fargo I was wading shallowly
10 The swamp's Suwanee, bridge overhead.In the tea waters splashing, I'd been warnedTo veer from dark spots or wind up dead.Swamp, my Swamp, where I feel at home,I walk above wildlife on a boardwalk
15 Which in the end woodenly towersPresenting a view of where soulless87 stalk.I've fished in you when of small age;I was too bored sitting to catch much.All I wanted was to walk the trails
20 With bridges, canoe, and some such.There were no bridges at Trader's HillWhere I developed swimming skills,But there was a boat ramp and dockAnd at times a gator—sorta like a croc.
25 Stroking North of you on clean watersCan be found near the lottery of D & L's88
A perilous span with black canals besideThat could not comfortably solace with rails.I always mesmerizedly feared falling in
30 The abysses whilst we droveAnd deadly would I be foundBy unlucky rescuers who dove.On Danespoint89, which my stepfather maintained,I intoxicatedly breathe in the angled heights
87 Soulless: animals88 D & L's: a store on the St. Mary's River right across the Florida border.89 Danespoint: a very lofty bridge in Jacksonville, FL.
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35 Of the St. Johns while a lesser part of meWas given acrophobic chills and frights.But Fernandina salt marshes at sunsetIs the image I've always had for love.Many times I've abrasively stared
40 At that vegetated waterway from above.
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Mendeleev
It happened to be a cold demise.The day had begun with warm skiesThat threatened not of elements' exposure.Complacently content was I in the enclosure.
5 I had ventured sans an implement of fire,And, unexpectedly in panic, I found myself direIn need of heat; my way had been lost.With surreal speed descended the frost.Stumbling with no sure place to go,
10 I shivered in the cold, eating snow.Tragically, the flakes are mainly made of air90,Which is, ironically, descriptive of some lovers' care.I had blindly journeyed to rescue you,But you truly eluded me; I'm hypothermic blue.
15 If you loved me, you'd not left or capriciously led.Like a cannibal phoenix91 from me others have fed.
90 Tragically. . . air: the body wastes exorbitant amounts of energy heating these flakes trying to make water; it only hurts in the end.
91 Cannibal phoenix: a bird that rises from its ashes, or in this case, its own corpse, and creates a being possessing the same body, but a different personal identity
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My White Love
My white love went ridingOn a horse that bore her away,But I still remember her parting words,“I'll be back for you someday.”
5 And in my dreams I wonderWhither she might be?I picture her gliding by,Hair waving windily.Upon streets of turquoise,
10 The clipclop hooves have tread,Pausing only once here and thereFor migrating soda bread.Behind her a glimmering moonSpews butterflies into the air,
15 And all of them weep to praiseMy mistress that graced them there.And in my dreams I knowShe loves me with all her mind,For when she but utters my name
20 A smile's all my mind's eye can find.Across the sparkling waves she fliesTo drink at rowdy sand bars;And when she inebriatedly brawls, sheProves to my leaping heart women are from Mars.
25 Amid the clouds of snow banksShe dusts off her reining hands.She's coming back to meFrom beyond those dull foreign strands.And from my dreams I wake up
30 To a bitter reality;I like my dreams much better,For there she returned and kissed me.
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Fief
'She's such a lovely pretty girl,'Longingly thought the lonely earl,And in a conscious state that was alternateLived in a dream he could not forget.
5 Waltzing in mist under moonlight,She made for a delectable sight.She hastily turned and laughed, as if whisked away,And twirled and dipped, as if on her knees to pray.She forgave him of his splendour and conceit,
10 Called him the most common man she did ever meet,And, as she majestically twirled around,He forgot about her queen's crown.Then, they ran off to simply live and elopeBeyond the range of the king's power's scope.
15 He'd given up his title and feudal vow,The king might surely be angry now.
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Deflower ing Fie lds
As if in a dreamI run deflowering fieldsOf the spring's newbornBounteously petaled yields.
5 It's rare one sees blueIn nature; the oceans are green.Yet, childishly, the sky92 adornsMy fingers and in between.From peedabeds93 and aphids94
10 I've fashioned a toga.In this blackeyed Susie95
Hut I meditate in yoga.With a honeysuckled daisy diadem,I naturally rule in thought.
15 My embellished ways96 have more flowersThan any florist has bought.Excessively I've strewn petalsWhere their transpiration splattersTo find out if she loves me
20 Or not and other such matters.
92 Sky: vibrant blue in the form of flowers93 Peedabeds: a small, white type of flower which my greatgrandmother purported would cause one to wet the bed at
night if touched. Hence her name for it.94 Aphids: small critters that take residence of flowers, thus, when flowers are used, they are present as well95 Blackeyed susie: another type of flower. It's brown in the center and has orangishyellow petals, reminiscent of a
small, orange, wildflower strain of sunflower. It is perhaps my favorite flower.96 Ways: paths
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Ruins of the Present Day
Atlanta will make beautifullyIntriguing ruins for clueless posterityWho visit centuries from now atThe behest of the tourist industry
5 Who convinces the ignorant to visitA place of insignificance in the general schemeOf distantly irrelevant strings of futilelyInterconnected moments known as life's dream.As they stand in belittled awe 'neath
10 And near piled clusters of freeways,Smugly will they unfairly compareArchitecture with that of those days.Architecture builds upon each advance,“They're” indebted to “us” for the abstractly pretty.
15 I need no gothic cathedral to feel diminished, I'vePeered up at the mammoth foundations of that city.After America collapsesThere will be a semidark agesIn which chaos erases vast amounts
20 Of our knowledge from history's pages.It's tragic—the truth that each empire,Its glories, and feats shall fallAnd be rudely derided and scorned by anotherWho'll perform the same mistakes, after all.
25 I'm thankful to be in a creative era's sway of civilizationAnd to intactly witness what's taken for grantedAnd paid less thought by those who question not perpetuity,Because by other presentday ruins they're enchanted.
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You No Be Existing
If I could go back in time,None of you would exist.We'd all disappear as dustUnder a crushing, mighty fist.
5 A continent of time I'd traverse,Over the divide97 four thousand more yearsTo an Aden98 where His presence madeThe mighty rivers weep joyous tears.When the serpent is spotted entering,
10 The first murder would occur;Not that of the future AbelBut of the musical Lucifer.The fruit being untouched, innocenceWould still be Adam and Eve.
15 We the punishment would notHave being. That's what I believe.
97 Divide: continental divide (i.e. the Rockies)98 Aden: paradise
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Geneses
Where did you come from,And why can't I go backTo witness only someOf our painful geneses?
5 What block hinders myRemembrances from infancy?Those memories are lockedDeep beneath the psycheThat might possibly be unable to
10 Relate any early experienceBecause away from those infantileImages did language rinseThe primal coherence inWhich they were encrypted.
15 Perchance one day that will beDeciphered by one giftedIn the science of mental archeologyAt uncovering intangible layers for the eye.But where are you from;
20 The same place as I?
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An Abbey Row
Dead beside the ruins or the bodyOnce known as Jim Morrison of the Doors,Located across the Sargasso SeaWest of the Baltic shores,
5 Might be found an unknown, wretch, orGreat person according to howHistory does retell or forget,Which it's been apt to do till now!As odds are, I shan't be
10 Buried next to the psychedelic singer,And somewhere in America, notWestminster Abbey, shalt I linger.
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Chapter XII
Weed
They grow up in adversity, always hated.Others are not happy until their lives have dissipated.But what makes them less special than a rose?Marry, they're much nicer, sans the thorns it grows.
5 Picked and sprayed and from soil freedLives the fittest of Nature's breed,The outcast, the eyesore, the weed.
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Strawber ry
So maybe I can't makeLemonade from a strawberry,But does my desire to do thusMake me seem strange and scary?
5 If I were as redAnd lush as thee,Would you desireTo devour me?I should find something
10 Better to doThan to sit hereAnd muse over you.There are some thingsThat cannot be;
15 You are a strawberry,And I am just me.
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Dreaming In
Dreaming in on silent wingsCrooning is the song it singsFloating in on moonbeams starsFlickering in to break a silent peace
5 Swarthed in mystic Golden FleeceShuddering in on moonbeam barsShimmering in once more this nightGlorious beauty on untouched heightOn silent wings it flies
10 Sparking in 'neath crimson moonLuring as the call of the loonQuesting across the skies.
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PinkScar red Skies
Pinkscarred skiesDazzle the eyesDancing in ripplesTo the tears the sun cries
5 Purplestained cloudsWisping to ayeShadowing the mornHeralding the dayDew drop cries
10 Tears of the starsDroplets of iridescenceReflecting the storms of Venus and MarsBluestreak slashingFlashing gray ribbons and bands
15 Silence unfolds asSolaris99 crests o'er the lands.
99 Solaris: the sun
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Star
You're a star,A hot gaseous cloudOn the verge ofAn explosion quite loud.
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Wild
Wild is on wingOn stretching vineClutching and covetousClaiming all as “mine”
5 Wild the blossomBe as it glistens in the morrow's dewWild is a portion emotionWild will not heed youWild is the starlight
10 Aflickering, flutteringWild is the callThat sets your heart shudderingWild is in all thingsTame it never be
15 Wild will set you chaotically freeWild is the feeling of how you see.
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Split Apart
Orange and black mosaicWe do make a sceneSwarming in loveCovering screen
5 Siamese loversLove makes us deadA single mind and bodyWith two single headsLovelocked and backbound
10 Deathblack wings small thunderingWhy do I love my soulmateThe one mind is aponderingThickest as a night,Scraggly few, now dead
15 A single mind and bodyWith two single heads.
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War of the Roses
Roses on a thorny stemLiving in beauty and splendorUnfolded to perfume the world.They are called to arms
5 To fight a futile warThat shall end themTime is an unfair opponentWith all of the advantagesAnd all the time in the world to fight
10 The roses wither and blackenLose their beauty to an unkind ageThe waning minion of timeCut from the stemThey enjoy a decomposing rot
15 Joy they wouldn't have had, had they fought notThe roses still blossomBlossom to wither and dieFighting the same war as you and I
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Supernova
His love was a comet's song;Beautiful, lovely, disastrously gone.Bleeding tears of milky despair,With the cosmos his pain to share.
5 He was taken with aflaring anger and fearful ague,And here is where it all grows vague,For which of you mayst nobly sayAught of the demented mood on that dayWhen the swollen red giant burst?
10 In anguished, doubting confusion, and what's worstOf all these passions, a selfhating shriekUrging selfslaughter in no way meek.This once dazzling and coyish entitySet fright in all who did see
15 His plasma smear the firmament,And to his fickle love was sentWord of his turbulent demise.On occasion she thinks and cries,Her cold tears streaking watching skies.
20 But she has no forgiveness in their eyes,And from where he once lay she's often fledLike cosmic winds to another's bed;And with thoughts as empty as his love,We now wonder if there's life above.
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Meteors Must Land Somewhere
Meteors must land somewhere,Even occasionally on frogs.They even cast their lightOn nights of opaque fogs.
5 With the green hues ofPurpled red and midnight's blue,Fall they haphazardly,Not knowing what to do.Then, like feeling from a dream,
10 They spontaneously depart,Leaving behind the awed worldTo wonder at fleeting art.I've never grappled one,But I know they exist.
15 Until I catch a shooting star,Will I know what I have missed?
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Chapter XIII
Pelham Renaissance
I'd like to think IMade at least a dentIn the plexiglass frameOf a world when I have spent
5 My last worthless Canadian pennyOn a thrill ride and accidentThat claims the lives ofAll the baggage. The mintProduces only one flawed coin,
10 The one that is subnonabnormal.I want us and my friends to beOddballs garbed in the stunning formalWear of fame and influentialness,I want to tease the world by
15 Exposing the garters 'neath that dressThat is cut too close to home.On the range where distinction isBoiled a new recipe should cook.The pot should be filled
20 With art and music and a bookOr two from the heart ofOperations where I dwellThis adobe house is stiflingAnd it burns like the fires of Hell.
25 The logs and kindlingOf creativity unsandedAnd unwhittled from the treeThat upon the ground landedIn the entrapping mire to rot.
30 I want this baggage to escape this airportTerminal where bags of future and capabilitiesAre lost and destroyed by a drug dog's snort.Bootstraps will have to be yanked and tugged,But one day we'll have our war
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35 That when won shall place usIn the Florentine histories forever moreAs the Pelham Renaissance,Mixed with ideas and diversification.To pull this off we'll need ideas,
40 Patrons, and some cooperation.
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Omnivenicient
Empowered with my Venetian sight100,I longingly peer through blindsInto a rustic courtyard, emptiness, whereMy vision has spilled, is present in many kinds.
5 The slate sky suspended distantly awayHas abandoned its loving rains.Lonely, it has become sorrowfully blue;The colour of one who complains.Solemn oaks and willows have lost
10 The intimate company of wind,Who must journey wherever Solaris'sHeated passions fickly send.No living being with a souleTakes refuge in the exposure
15 And have instead forsaken the courtyardFor the sheltered brick enclosureThat stands formidably and,As a turtle, low to the ground.The base foundation has been painted
20 By the deluge's silt that has browned101.Lo, movement stirs beneath the catwalkRoofed with one rippled tin segment undone.Like wildfire over thick humus102, theyBlaze a rampant course as they run
25 From the battered black double doorsTo the innards of the cafeteria's walls.One of these few streaking teensStumbles, slips, and slickly falls.As if arisen from the dead,
30 The ravenous youth moistly standsAnd angrily chases those who've fledMadly for nomadic sustenance103.With his jeaned departure all is still,
100 Venetian sight: the figure is peering through Venetian blinds101 Painted. . .browned: dirt skimming the top of the flood has collected on the brick102 Humus: natural debris in forest, such as dead trees and leaves; it's highly flammable103 Nomadic sustenance: involving migration to eat
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And fallen oak leaves are left alone35 In plastered heaps of rusty brown
Where by wind and rain they've been blown.But the solitude interwoven departsWith the stampede of unaware pupilsBoisterously speaking, without hearts,
40 Cold words and jokes and lack of thought.The lips do move, as do their legs,But neither makes audible sound.The promise of edible confetti104 leadsThem targetedly across the ground.
45 Despairing as they all pass byWithout a word or acknowledgment,I feel battered by ostracism.Of what do I need repent?A peculiarly unfitting sight has caused
50 Me from my thoughts to be awoke.This herd has a straggler;She's halted near an weathered oak.The wind, who has newly returnedAt this time of mortal repast,
55 Speaks mildly to his leaféd cronies—Presumably about adventures passed.The interaction of conversationStirs the residential dew of the leavesWhich gravely by gravity mattes
60 The red covering of where she conceives105.As if she can feel mine eyes,Glazed from staring observations,Upon me has she fixedA glance of considering consternation.
65 Alone, I slink back to my comradesTreading the boards106 where all can seeThe illusions I represent while stillBeing unable to perceive me.
104 edible confetti: food105 Mattes. . . conceives: damply mattes her hair106 Treading. . . boards: acting
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Why Do I Always Hear Screams
Why do I alwaysHear screams in this place?Is there some secret terrorThat I must one day face?
5 Anguish stirs meIn the dead of night,And I awake to voicesEngaged in a fight.What is the message they
10 Try to convey to meThrough their screams ofAnger and agony?It was unfortunate toLive in this unlucky house
15 Where one even hearsThe cries of cows.It would be better if ICould slip away in my dreams,Instead of being
20 Tormented with screams.
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Erroneous Misconceptions
This countryside I am of theeLimited beyond libertyIn my knowledge.In conceptions of foreign lands
5 And people, I misunderstand;This I do pledge.How can I be exposed of naughtAnd know more than what it has boughtThen stored in vault?
10 Though I question now what I think ,Worldly “truths” in error I link;It's Pelham's fault.The people of cities appearDifferent from those we have here,
15 And surely the South cannot beInbred for its entirety.[Ana]Baptism simply cannot beThe world's religion popularly;My genius and education here
20 Elsewhere would be quite something to jeer.Truthfully, I cannot base theWorld 'pon what I know to be true.Instead, I must seek out more knowledgeAnd experience to broaden view.
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Armed Forces
Let's all join the Armed ForcesAnd reunite at boot camp,For I find the tears atGraduation a bit damp.
5 And if you're going to cry,It might as well be thereDuring the warm receptionWhen they remove your hair.All is fair in love and war,
10 And I love you all as friends;Imagine the exploits we wouldFairly pull off should peace end.We could stay in boot camp.Hey, who really needs to see action?
15 Change the rules a little bit; eighteenHours of sleep'd bring me satisfaction.If a few of us could cook ,The rest of us could clean.We'd need at least one officer, and
20 Lots of boxerbriefs with Wolverine.We could molest the system,Start up a Pelham gang,Enlist all the on base kids, andTeach them to use oaths and slang.
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Chapter XIV
Perfection
It is only called perfectionBecause it humans cannot ha'e;We're too petty and immoral,And e'en those of the church are lay.
5 For what else is a lay personThan one of God's inferiors?Like Satan man sins and, therefore,Must get to His posterior.It is He and He alone who's
10 This sinful world's grand minister.If all are equal before His eyes, thenWhat's the holiness of being ordained?Education makes one not better, andE'en the priest will on that day107 be arraigned.
15 The beauty of perfection isThat it has natural order.God will always reign supreme, forMan seeks chaos and disorder.It's the simple discrimination
20 Employed to mark Man by the Almighty;There's a reason why we make mistakes,Why we will always be termed flighty.
107 On that day: Judgment Day
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That Which Offends Due to Its Unquestionable Filth
Would there was such an thing asThe perfect profanity.Judging from conversations, it'sBeen well sought by humanity.
5 Such an thing only wouldOffend the one it should.None else, such as the unawareOr innocent, would have to careA whit for what had been spoken,
10 And peacefulness would not be broken.Perhaps it would be an upsokePsionic message of a bloke[It is ever one rudeWho speaks language this crude.]
15 The curse would also, for each letter,Change the curséd's life for the better.Afterwards, one'd require a relaxed rest,For it'd remove anger from the breast;And such is such an exhausting process
20 It'd be spake only under duress.
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Perfect Idealist
The perfect idealistHas long since been dead,Unable to infect the worldWith the diseases in his head.
5 Idealists are toReality blind;One must employ sense,Not just the mindThe perfect Puritan
10 Never even existed,Or maybe fell overboardWhen his ship listed.They're overstudiedIn American schools;
15 They removed the complexBeauty from language, like fools.Puritans believedIn predestination,And their holyroller effects
20 Are still felt across this nation.
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If I Were Omnisc ient
If I were omniscientWould I repentOr end up insane asKnowledge overwhelms my brain?
5 An I were omniscientWould I bother to careAbout decencies or beTrapped by a primal snare?If I were omniscient
10 Could I possibly surviveWith the meaningless informationProvided by everything alive?An I were omniscientI would know how
15 To become omnipotentOr maybe a drow.
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The Per fect Couch
I need a couch with no cushions,And I'll be partially satisfied,If from that vantageThe networks108 were spied
5 Showing off the sinning actorsWhose illusory actions have lied.This would drive me backTo my work of writingDiligently with procrastination
10 And continually fightingTo use new words and rhymesAnd phrases rather biting.Furthermore sated couldI think my poor self,
15 If this couch was adjacentTo a handy shelfAnd had no cracks whose explorationRequires the service of an elfTo fetch a pen or highlighter or
20 Variously shaped tube of white outThat slipped from my dazéd handIn a thoughtful writer's bout.
108 The networks: on TV, such as NBC, CBS, and ABC
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Perfect Image
You are the perfect image—Of a fake!All the while whilst yeMake oaty passions bake
5 And expose the future pudgeWhither child wilst take hold109, Thine faith in faith and GodDost thou proclaim. BoldAre your teasings and shamelessly
10 Accompanied caressingsWhich wee birds chitter oft'Induce desires of undressings.Pretend not to be one thing withThy voice 'till ye speak.
15 If ye must too be Christian, makeWhoring an art discreetly meek.
109 Future. . . take hold: midriff
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Chapter XV
Social Il ls
The problem with social ills inAmerica is that the cureComes not in gelcaps or pills, and,If chewed, would taste like manure.
5 The problem with social illsIs that drinking deep thoughtsHas been replaced with theConsumption of alcoholic draughts.The problem with social ills is
10 There's no holistic solutionTo deal with pregnancy, abortion, disease,Gambling, violence, drugs, and prostitution.The problem with social illsIs that they affect people
15 Who are all taught differing idealsIn their choice building with a steeple.The problem with social ills isTheir tendency to be ignored,As they only manifest
20 When idle minds are bored.
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Generation of Suckers
This is nothing more than aGeneration of suckersThat impulsively bidsOthers' lips to pucker.
5 The taste put in my mouthHas a horrible flavour,Why, it tastes just as thoughThese suckers had no Savior.How many licks to the
10 Center? Few, I have found.As it is as hollowAs caves beneath the ground.Inside these caves is heard, “ThisGeneration can be played,
15 Hustled for all it's worth, to beMeaninglessly to rest laid.”The gooey core absorbsWhat controversy will sell.It110 is a worthless pollutant, but
20 Gullibility serves controversy well.These suckers are exactly whereWanted, at the end of a stickReady to be devouredBy the exploiting's shtick111.
25 Suckers are born every second;Such is this complete generation.Music is overwhelmingProof, check out a pop station.Even the looks of things
30 Is utterly appalling;For you are but dominoesAnd a chain of them is fallingInto the next unwitting victim.
110 It: the eagerly consumed trash of controversy (e.g. Marilyn Manson)111 Shtick: gimmick, trick, routine
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Armed Boxing
Not every aspect of lifeBy women who'd not be a wifeOnly and sought to things alterFor their rights would I fain prefer.
5 The weaker sex I'd not oppress,For they're entitled to success.But one of my conservative viewsWomen in violent professions eschews112.Great evil in these contemporary
10 Generations hath arisen. Marry,Some femmes feel that they would somehow enjoyThe masculine careers oft' scorned by boys.Is it from madness or a lunacyThat women would join the military
15 In hopes to one day serve on the front line?Is there something wrong with their endocrineSystem? It is a shame they wish to boxAway beauty to become a lummox.Maybe it is I who is in the wrong,
20 Though I think not at home do they belong,For I have a love of old chivalryWith its biased honor and dignity.It was ingrained by that Roundest Table,Robin Hood, and such medieval fables.
25 Now due to this loathsome need to respectThe ladies, and, if need be, them protect,I, quite shocked, wonder at their strange demandTo be treated rudely, as if an man.For opening doors why am I at fault?
30 I am merely doing what I was taught.Girls no longer want manners, sonnets, love;The desire's a coarse one who'll beat and shove.Sadly, such is the new gentleman's way.Be kind to a lady; you'll be thought gay.
35 “Why should you stand when girls depart?” they'd ask.
112 Eschews: forbids
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They make girls whores, for respect's such a taskTo complete it's not worth the endeavour!These coldly treated think themselves cleverBecause of this, as well as man's equal,
40 Though they're, in fact, the glorious sequel.For a good reason the bodies differ,For man's fate was to be one much stiffer;God decreed it to consist of labour.But, fair Ladies, do draw forth your sabre,
45 Charge in mad assault, and a bullet take,Should you feel you are a better makeThan I am, which is probably quite true.Ha! Dead, you can't stop me weeping for you,A thing my honour'd require me to do.
50 Though your brash foolishness me alarms,I say the world does not need your charms!It will be a less civilized place,A Siberia to Samothrace113;Go be pummeled by beglovéd arms.
113 Siberia to Samothrace: a blasted land of barrenness compared to a Grecian island
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Lusting
Covetous for what willNever be claimed your own,Out of a sinful heartHas licentiousness grown.
5 She knows you're there; sheCan feel your leering.Rip out your offensive eye;Staring is not endearing.Lifetime luster till your
10 Stalker's blood sets arusting;Maybe you'll luck up,And maybe you'll quit your lusting.
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Defamation
It's easy enough toStart conversations with girlsAs, oddly enough, they allAct as unladylike churls
5 Should one mention a rivalTo her precious attention.It must be a conventionThat each girl's her opponent.Till recently I was not
10 Aware of such jealousyWhich could be found in all ranks,From prioress to hussy.
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In Heat
The school is in heat,Desperate to breed good grades.The most perfect mateHas it been unable to find.
5 The school is in heat;It's that time of year.That its lovers will breedIdiots is its fear.The students are in heat. How
10 Many are having babies?Why? Many fold more thanAre contracting rabies.The students are in heat. If not careful, ensuing bedrest
15 Will keep them off their feetFore'er because of a slav'ry to desires.
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Take It from the Top
There is only one sanctioned way toDestroy an uncaring society:It must be rid of the onesWith the most apathy.
5 Take it from the top, thePowerful will care moreIf they're stripped of all vestiges of life,Than if it happened to the impotent poor.Take it from there, rectifying
10 All who are applicable,Until the world wisens upAnd anarchy's coffers are full.
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Cereal
“Chewy,” thinks me, fork in hand,Commenting on her taste.Throughout pubescence had I beenTaught etiquette and not to waste.
5 She tasted not like chicken butOf sumptuous carnal pleasure.Sat I picking at fickle114 fillet;I had deboned her at leisure.All of the girls who've died for me
10 Have touched me in endless ways.In love, I trust all've had the misfortune,I know of one crime that deliciously pays.
114 fickle: female
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Envy Me, Fools
I don't need a muted beauty;I deserve a figurehead.It's someone up there's dutyTo ensure that this happens.
5 She doesn't have to thinkOr care, just be suave.It matters not if she lovesMe or has a job.That her gorgeousness is rare
10 As impurity in a doveIs the only requirementFor she I shall call love.For then, when I am famous,Derisions can't claim her ugly.
15 For, though they mayst count their wivesLoving and sweet, they'll envy me.
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Artif icial Dr inks
I tell you it's evil, anTemptation of awfulnessThat dupes many perpetuallyWith commercial success.
5 What is this fascinationWith lemonade and teaAnd carbonated sodas?They do naught to refresh me.These are artificial beverages,
10 They merely augment thirst and have dregs.Their packaging authenticates freshness;Water never needed jazzy bottles or kegs.It was always readily enoughAnd plentifully consumed.
15 But packaging sells capitalism;One day they'll all be plumed.Haven't these people heard of water?It is what fulfills.A lack of this mercury,
20 Platinumvalued drink kills.
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Improvements
In their renovations theyDestroyed all sentimentAnd made it from me aloof,Something which I resent.
5 Improvements are destructionOf cherished memoryThat now only dimly playsIts surreal melody,And though they say I'll always
10 Have the images I have known;Betrayal is what I feel, since theTrue objects of affinity are gone.
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Chumps
How is it champions areConsidered losers and deridedOnce the outcome of oneContest has been decided
5 In the Olympics and suchLarge and competitive matchesWhere, for one mistake,Dishonour often hatches?Could you, the ordinary,
10 Do as well as the devotedAthletes over whoseLoss you have gloated?Could you perform to aLesser degree that event
15 Or would that compromise the lazinessYour life for which you've spent?Spectators are fans for a reason;How quickly do they turnUpon the “disappointing” star and
20 Let smug jealousies burn.
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Eyece
Some gentlemen oddly happenTo be eccentrically nice.Some fool fools treat theirWomen as bags of ice.
5 Certainly they should be brokenTo conform to your fragile needs,Handled rather roughly,And put down as lame steeds.A good woman deserves to be tossed
10 Around, treated with little respect.Why else would she linger?True love comes with neglect.
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Not Just a Name
Good Heavens! That's not justA name but a way of life,Which seems to be moreImportant than any wife.
5 It makes perfect sense to worshipAn intangible stranger never met,Whilst taking for granted and ignoringShe who should be called “my pet.”I completely understand your
10 Zealous fanaticism over lettersGestaltly strung together by oneDeemed to be one of your betters.A person that mortal simplyCannot possibly be.
15 Marry, he is some summaDemigod of realityWho receives the worshipAnd justly due admirationThat surely should not be for
20 The Maker of All Creation.It's a good thing I cannot write myName, lest I should attract a crowdOf nuts and ignoramiWho are so not endowed.
25 Anyone can become a friend;What worthless bondage to enter!But a signature is a rare and nobleThing which can nurse one through bleak winter.
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A Fr iend, A Fan, A Wouldn't Be Lover
“I vow to be offendedBy everything I can.For this reason aloneHave I chosen my man.
5 With Jesus as my lover,I can scorn you allAnd label the toils of your handsThe merits of one who did fall.This gives me closure in
10 My choice of derisions;If I am with a perfect one,I've made the right decisions.What need have I of listeningTo your brokenly corrupted pleas?
15 If I can find the simple path,Then any predestined can with ease.”Though we burned her as a witch,Not for arcane dabblings but attitude,Everyone assented she was fairly
20 Condescending, to each of us rabble she was rude.This must be the correct demeanor:Unsociable and condemningly uncaring.We Hellbound must not have been elect115,We preferred society and sharing.
115 Elect: one destined for heav'n according to predestination
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Chapter XVI
Seasons of Chr istianity
They peacefully maimIn a belligerent way,Mowing down the followersOf Eternal Day.
5 Crowds gather to throngAnd mock and jeer;When one falls is utteredSuch a cheerThat all others
10 Are shaken awakeTo view the oneThe enemy did take.Prayers are issued;All close by mourn
15 The bloodied chest. WhereDid once white adorn?Beleaguered by former fellows,Now the zombies of temptation,Inevitably one will consume
20 Not faith but hesitation.At that momentA good spirit dies;There's e'en some blueIn the blackest of skies.
25 And there, watchingThe young Christians fall,Towers the oft' ignoredCreator of all.
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The Fall ing of the Leaves
Watching the falling of the leaves,Tombstones ignore her as she grievesAn immortal, now, who no longer conceivesBut slipped through the strings of life's sieves
5 And from afar watches as she bereaves,But cares more for the falling of the leaves.Watching the falling of the leavesAnd wondering who she was,He is joyously unable to place her visage
10 And why it cries the way it does.Watching the falling of the leaves,His mind is a beauteous buzz.Watching the falling of the leaves,He has thoroughly forgotten his wife,
15 For to be perfect of body and servitudeOne must be sheared of the memories of life.Watching the falling of the leaves,Remembrances tasted the steely, holy knife.Watching the falling of the leaves,
20 He was an unentangled slave up above,For to prevent despair and corrupted adoration oneMust forget all those one quarreled, kissed, and shoved.Watching the falling of the leaves,His only brainwashed concern was Love.
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Already Got One?
If you really cared, you'dTranslate your own when of age,Instead of relying on the alteredTruths others scribbled on each page.
5 Just learn Latin, Hebrew, Aramaic,Greek , Futhark , Old English, and HinduAnd there will be no great work youCan't decipher, besides a few.Do you honestly believe HUMANS can get it right?
10 Would you ignorantly trust them with your soule?If you were I you'd decrypt Thoreau's old book116,Then read the length of its breadth whole.But don't give this translation to your friendsTo prevent them from being condemned
15 By your possible misinterpretationsOr certain passages you may have skimmed.
116 Thoreau's old book: The Bible, not Walden. Definitely not Walden
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Services
Unlike some hypocrites I know,Who regularly to church goAnd are devout ev'ry SundayBut profusely sin each other day
5 That's a celebration of the lay,I only sin on a church day.This is not intended to show disrespect,For before the Lord I'd genuflect.It but aids me to understand what the Words meant
10 When I commit something of which I must repent,And on these days it's more easily on my mind,Thus, it's easier the truth to find.I am holy the rest of the week ,Compassionate, humble, and e'er meek.
15 But at services He I adoreWhen hyped up on acid and much more.
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QuasiCultural Perspect ive
Being called Satan is a partOf life; I'm used to it by now.It's just like being a rudeAmerican: I must eat cow.
5 Truly it's not because IFollow a different directive,You're just a follower of anotherQuasicultural perspective[Religion makes no culture, indeed,
10 It is an afterthought of newbornsWho seek out language first, thePrerequisite for culture to form.]That makes you cautiously offGuard and with others protective.
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Being Made in the Image of a Deity, and Other Examples of Util i ty
The mind is overrated.The soul has been sung.The heart is used fallaciously suchA great amount it should be hung.
5 There is a certain science to all, can youLook literally at each moment entire,Or in your cataloging reflectionsAre you entangled in a quagmire?“What am I doing on this earth?
10 Couldn't it have been another planet?”Asks the being that should be calledLove but was corrupted into Janet.Making in an imageTransfers not the value.
15 Counterfeit Tiffany glassIs not as useful as a screw.Mass production ruinsThe starting value of a make.A mintconditioned Adam is pricier than
20 The collection of Sheol's every mistake.A manual presents troublesAnd sometimes their remedies;The lack of a thoroughly properUser guide may cause oaths and please.
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Role Model
I once had a friend,The excomrades will say,That I once thought evenSatan he could slay.
5 He exemplified everythingThat one should be/do.Then, one day he changedRight out of the blue.You can see him there
10 Deceiving his mind.Now in him theExamples we findBy reversal. MaybeGod learns from his mistakes.
15 Maybe he's the prototypeOf educating fakesWhose sole existence is toShow others what not to do.I'm learning something,
20 Are you?He's more effective than exhibitingPenalized drunk drivers at school;For conversation he's the ultimateRecruiter, patch, and tool.
25 Only, it's a shame noOne can save himFrom where he drownsIn waves of sin's phlegm.In double conclusion they'd say,
30 “He once was much more;Now he teaches by existenceAnd is empty to the core.”
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Pardon, Could You Spare Some Assistance?
It's amazing how farYou can drift awayWithout everIntending to stray.
5 Then, one day youWake up to a startAccentuated withA vigorous heartAt having
10 Drifted apartFrom the securityOf the dense fleetThat treads waterAs Jesus' feet.
15 You'd played pirate thenWent to bed one nightWhen against anchors theWind and waves did fightAnd tugged
20 You out to sea.Maybe you couldRescue me?
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Defense of Clones , Not of Cloning
Never did I think inMy lifetime to see such folly;Then, the world brazenly metThe cannibalistic Dolly117.
5 In angered outrageFor playing the Maker,There will be those whoPray a pox to take herWhom intends to have offspring
10 As a child, but only faker.If clones have souls,Soon the world will find;Doubtless it isThey will have a mind.
15 My view is thatClones will have a soul,Since it's doubtful that inThe making God has a role.This may be scribbled
20 As deists see,But why would he bother with the soulCreation for all humanity?What the devil isA soul anyway?
25 Is it just a wordCoined for cliché?Like “mind,” an unassigningString of lettersThat is rather undefining,
30 As it is not the brainBut, perhaps, yourself in fettersTo the corruptible human formThat wars with it118 and awareness119, butSuitably provides a comfortable dorm.
117 Dolly: the first cloned sheep118 It: the body119 Awareness: the vague feeling present in various puppeted body parts
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35 It is acceptable for oppositesTo share board; you seeEverything is business, althoughIt is taken personally.But maybe the soul
40 Is merely freewill.We'll know if they haveIt if ever they killNot for instinct asBase animals do,
45 But for feeling,Say, lust or blue.Maybe the soulIs no more than the mind,Since reason, not instinct,
50 Separates us from animalkindWho haven't, as I've heardIn a wellreported fashion,The possession of a soulOr the ability to ration.
55 It makes some sense that ifAnimals can have no salvationIt stems from theirLack of selfdeterminationWhich is the key to heaven—
60 Faith in Christ's name.For this inability can hardlyWe them sinfully blame.If salvation isn't for clonesWho will doubtlessly have a mind,
65 Then new scriptures shallWe humans findTo condemn the clonerAnd the ones created innocently.They weren't born into sin,
70 But they should have no mercySince they wereA sinful creation,
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Though they asked notFor life's duration.
75 Humans and clonesBoth begin as a cell;Why should eitherBe banished to HellFor actions in which
80 They had no partBesides the involuntaryBeating of a heart?Matters wereBeyond their control,
85 Perchance it is youWho has no soulIf the clonee you condemn—It is your option.Can't you see them as
90 A child of adoptionStranded and createdBy a sinful girlWhose whim forced itUpon this doomèd world?
95 Having no mortal father,As the Immaculate One,Women are to faultOnce this is begun.It's probably just
100The defying technology likeThe newfound ability to flyWhich God has merely enabledMan to acquire so thatThe world may faster die.
105But can it really be playing GodAn He gave man the ability?With the answers He enables,He creates at least indirectly.
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Jesus the Polygamist
Naturally, there are some nunsOf illicit illreputeWhose convictions are as a piccoloWhen compared to the flute—
5 Shorter of length, but sharper Are its notes of fervent duration,Though occasionally it squeaks in errCausing a great deal of exasperation.If the nuns, who art Jesus' brides120,
10 Can't maintain the straight and narrow always,How can anyone on that dayBe punished be they of the lay?
120 Nuns. . . brides: complete with wedding bands, so I've heard
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Basking and Asking
Christianity is a season inWhich to bask at the right timesAnd lazily wash off theGrit of the world's grime.
5 This season is like as to summer,When the faith burns as sun,And it spreads as fire consumingWild grass, seemingly to everyone.The spring121 begins with the chilled
10 But pleasantly unconcerned atheismWhich gradually is rather killedVirulently by an unseen Christianity,Towards the end122 the viri blossomIn coloured splendour and peace,
15 And the Innocence of faith untriedIs worn as Golden Fleece123.The autumnal fire124 is dwindling afterThe sun's heat did expose and roast.The virus125 that once was as flora
20 Now is exhausting the host.After questioning death, it comesIn winter's clinging duressWhere the faithful few are terrorized andFor spring silently wish under the stress.
121 Spring: birth and infancy/beginnings of faith122 Towards the end: of Spring (i.e. teenage years)123 Worn. . . Fleece: flaunted and highly regarded, yet easily discarded in heat124 Autumnal fire: faith of middle years/the number of believers in that time125 Virus: religion, faith
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If Deists Were Deer
If deists were deer, thenThey would adapt very wellIn ruminant groups ofSilence where for fear they'd smell
5 In hopes to live a while.Improper, roguish bandsOf hunters they'd avoidTo not be stuffed or tanned.To further add to it,
10 The hunters are alwaysHypocritical andBiased in such forays,For to have a belief'sTo be persecuted
15 Till another doctrine's joyIn “heresy”'s dilutedFor a spell and pausesTo think of the righteous actsHaply done to satisfy
20 Doubt and power. The factsAre ne'er objectivelyWeighed due to that within.Religion should unify,But it taints that sight to sin—
25 Coloured glasses that marA person's perceptionOf nature, where all's holy[Base and rife with deception]As all else. Oh, to be
30 Amoral as a star!
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A Condemnation, Like Many Things (I Wr ite )
Suicide displays the weaknessFor which you'll reside in SheolWhere from your torment ye shan'tBe able to hide as a mole.
5 Instead you'll be uprootedFrom your subterranean padAnd killed continuously everySecond, as an exposéd spy lad.“There is no proof of damnation
10 For leaving this world's drab party,”Some would say to defend a cherishedA ritual as the English tea.Oh ho! There thou art in err,Mr. So Religious Christianity,
15 For suicide proves that you areA wretchéd member of humanity.If that engineered book is to beBelieved, wherein your faith is found,Lays there one passage that
20 Your arguments do confound.Jesu Kristi promised to never burdenMan past the point he couldn't stand.Due to this one has no faithAn they slay via one's own hand.
25 You'd have no faith through persecution,Only innocence and emptiness.Soul search inside, unnatural murderer,And of your sins confess.You never had faith and beliefs,
30 Only the enjoyable deceit,Which when you came under fireProved you could take not the heat.Entertaining the notion is natural,The temptation of an weaken'd flesh.
35 Committing such only proves that yeAnd Jesus just don't mesh.
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Nigh Bouts
Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. WhatFollows might be sacrilege,Ergo I do not advise anyTo hang this upon the fridge
5 Door where the childrenCan read daily amidst munchies,Or rather the attack , and absorbIts contents near their scrunchies126
That hold the hair back10 In pony tails and buns
[I doubt they had suchTechnologie in the days of Huns.]Instead, keep it to yourself or inThe pulpit where you scorn my name;
15 Regardless of the outcome IIntend to write this just the same:Perhaps the judgment nighComing quickly as a thiefIn the night was hurried
20 And carelessly displaced a leafOr broke a twig making such a ruckusHe was runoff, killed, or slayne.Maybe he wasn't a good one127 andFell and tumbled and did sprain
25 His ankle and there he lies crippledWith a broken neck unable to walk ,Hearing less and less interest in himAnd more in “Jack and the Beanstalk.”
126 Near. . . scrunchies: in the mind127 Good one: good thief
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Chapter XVII
Sin Colored Glasses
You're looking at my worldIn shock and in pain;Everything I doSeems quite insane.
5 But I see thingsIn a much different light,Your strict and dull waysAre such a bland sight.To see as I see
10 Requires not classes,For my education comesWith sin colored glasses.Shade your eyesFrom what's right
15 And let avarice beThy guide through the night.I'm looking at the worldIn a sincolored way,But everything seems
20 As clear as the day.
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She Wore Smil ing Flowers
She wore the smiling flowersIn a dream so far awayThat wafted their aromaTo trap me for this day.
5 It seems I don't know muchAbout this girl and her ways,For I didn't pay attentionWhile we were out to graze128.I should have maybe thought
10 Afore I said those words,But “I love you” seemed to fitWell with the chirping of the birds.Now what am I doing hereEnding the pleasures of my youth129?
15 I still have yet to masterThe art of being uncouth.When the time has come to speakObjections before the world,Will I have realized
20 That I don't know this girl?
128 Out to graze: a comparison of cows chewing cud and courting129 Ending. . . youth: getting hitched
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Dreaming the Sweet Dream
She was dreaming the sweet dreamWhen the nightmares did come,And in her sweet rest it seemsShe's thought about it some:
5 This stressful thirst to slakeCould be done when awake.The banker was chargedSuch a high rateThat the taxes ate
10 Away from his plate.His loss of interest roseAnd he decided to foreclose.The thinker thoughtAnd did think he was free,
15 But he was boundedAs is the land by the sea;In the idealistic gloomy rainsHe found a way to break his chains.
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Silent Thief
Silently slippingIn on nights of fearThieving thatWhich is most dear
5 Recurring thiefFrequenting most nightsTossing and turningLiving without lightsBringing foul minions
10 To torture you unknownA flash of the lightsAnd they're gone.
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A Banana
Find ye a bananaStringless withalFor if stringy it isAll love shall fall
5 Find that fruitWhich genuinely caresAnd reciprocationOf feelings it sharesFind that yellow clover
10 And luckily happy ye shall beTo find straightforwardnessPlucked from a tree.Find that elusive bananaBut do search ye hard
15 A banana with stringsIs the origin of lard130
Search for the stringsWhich oft' are subtly smallMay ye find the stringless one
20 May its integrity be your all in all
130 The origin of lard: a pig
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The Truth of al l Bananas
The truth of all bananasSeems that they all spoilMaking you and what wasAs worthless as soil.
5 The truth of all bananasSeems that they all have stringsThey'll cut you looseOnce they've flown their wings.The truth of all bananas
10 Seems that they all deceiveThe peel a maskThey wish you to believe.The truth of all bananasSeems that they all bruise
15 Inside or outsideIt's you who shall lose.
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One Simple Blunder
I saw what you tried to hide,But my memory has your tongue tiedTo the truth of your blunderWhich has ripped the whole word asunder;
5 At least to me, a most important folly,Now can I let loose truth's volley.I saw what you won't admit,I saw it, and I heard it.But you would fain agree
10 To that blunder in front of me,For it was a mark of shame,And you have only your tongue to blame.Was I the only one to notice you compensate?It matters not, you were too late.
15 For now I know your devious lies,And now wonder what more missteps you've disguised.And if you would not look as a fool,You shouldn't have let your tongue rule.But tell me, and tell me now,
20 Were there missteps before, and howCould it be that one much betterThan I could stumble o'er a simple letter?Think it possible that you tooAre not perfect, as I am too?
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Real World
In the real worldNo one knows anymoreAbout themselves thanTheir life is but a bore,
5 Now in reality wolvesAre chased by sheep;Natural orders areOnly found in sleep.Consciousness is deceiving,
10 Thank heavens for dreamsFor that's the only localeWhere all's as it seems.
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Fear The
Fear the sightLest ye see itFear the soundLest ye hear it
5 Fear the coldFear the darkFear the sound of a night starkFear the beingIt entails pain
10 Fear the mindWith its lies of being saneFear the heartFear the mindFear the hope of mankind
15 Fear the nightAnd the dreams it may bringFear the bardAnd the signsongs he may singFear the storm
20 Fear the taleFear thee, fear thee wellFear the thunderOr the lightning it bringsFear the quiet
25 Or the dangersong it singsFear thee to giveFear thee to partakeFear the Fear that Fear will make.
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Fear Is
Fear is emotion on highFear is the idea to make you cryFear is the takingFear is the death
5 Fear is the joy of willbereftFear is spawned in sinstained plansFear is abstinent in no landsFear is abundantFear is here
10 Fear is the motivation of the deerFear is is seasonFear is in you hunting selftreasonFear is the hunterFear is the prey
15 Fear is waking up each dayFear is insaneFear is a hindrance to the brainFear is crazyFear is smart
20 Fear is a taste in your mouth that is tartFear is sadisticFear is hitting and hurting from a distanceFear is fellingFear is strung in your heart
25 Fear is what bursts it all apartFear is alwaysFear is neverFear is what you will never sever
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Fear In
Fear in angerThat you'll never seeFear in wrathThat you'll never be
5 Fear in sorrowThat you will sufferFear in agueThat pain has no bufferFear in the limelight
10 That all will seeFear in the moonlightThat no one there will beFear in distanceThat you'll ever be apart
15 Fear in proximityThat awkwardness will startFear in timeThat the ticktocks bring you lamentFear in the coming
20 That the days will be turbulentFear in deathThat you'll be sent to HellFear in demiseThat heaven won't ring your bell.
25 Fear in allFear in nothingEveryone must fear something.
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Fear For
Fear for the timesOf the night when you sleepFear for the timesWill come for you to weep
5 Fear for you may not meetSleep in your sordid dreamFear for you may meetThe Promulgator of your screamsFear for the that
10 Fear for the thisFear for the fulfillment of things you don't wish
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Alien Nation
Oh, what can save our alien nation?Oh, what can make it pure?For when none knows for what it stands,Then how shalt it endure?
5 Oh, what shall save our alien nationFrom the storms of other lands?Bringing over their muck and mireServes to make goop from our sands.Oh, what shall save our alien nation;
10 It's tread the path of Rome?There seems no way to save the unwilling;Where shall I make my new home?Oh, what shall save our alien nation?It shan't have long to last,
15 For we've forgotten what it stands for,And our glory days have passed.
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Amnesia
The world's catching amnesiaAt too slow a pace;There's still morals andLaws and religion and mace
5 To blind “them” fromAnarchy's fulfilling emptiness.If a carte blanche131 the worldWas, none could transgressAgainst the eternal commands
10 And the flimsier ones of man.I wish to be presentAt that moment, if I can,When this world's utterly susceptibleAnd theoretically puppets under control
15 Of whomever in that deluge that washedAway all clung to flotsam of the soulOr jetsam of the corruptibleMind, would I be the only toTake advantage and do as I feel
20 While programming mobile statues?
131 Carte blanche: blank slate, empty of knowledge
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Pax Gaea
Screw world peace!It'd make this world end.Pray not for it lestGod's iron will should bend
5 And the few thin threadsOf mercy that keep us mundaneShould snap like the boomOf an overloaded crane.Turmoil must exist
10 Till my goals are met;Afterwards I'll pray withYou until I forget.
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Voice of Temptation
Listen to the voice of temptationCrying from the wildernessThat there is too much workInvolved in achieving success.
5 The voice will rob youOf your potential potential.The voice is us all;It is often me.“It is often I am in denial132.”
132 It. . . denial: it is often I, I am in denial
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Chapter XVIII
Cr ime to Smile
Is it a crimeThat I should smile?Is it a sinTo laugh for a while?
5 Why should my joySet you at unease?Why does my pleasureSo displease?If I were to die
10 And never rewake,Of which two joysWould you partake?Joy that I was goneTo an afar off better place,
15 Or joy to never seeA smile light my face?
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I'm a Wussy
I'm a wussyBut I don't careSo what's your point?I'm a wussy
5 But that's okay I live my lifeRun from strife.I'm a wussyYou steal my lunchAnd my fruit punch.
10 Wussy, wussy, wussy, wussy,That's the chide y'all emitI don't fight and I can't spitNo girl wants to go out with me.
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Navy
So this is what it's likeWhen you sell your soul?I never understoodAnd thought Faust a fool.
5 Do tell me how will I feelWhen I look back upon this day,And like Faust realizeThere must be another way?Don't speak to me of friends,
10 Because they just don't understandWhy I was entrapped,Why I shook that hand.Half of them for me don't care,The other half hurt the me inside.
15 I saved my face and bit my tongue,But after the phone calls cried.I'm going full speed aheadIn the gamble of my life,And I'll forget to call and write
20 And find the perfect wife.It may be that I'll go underFor a few weeks or more,But when I rise I'll realizeI'm just the Navy's whore.
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The Jest
And all the while the joke's on me,To laugh at mine own demise;For, though thou dost giggle now,There's naught but contempt in thine eyes.
5 And thou hast slain me with suchA coldly apiercing stare,And I would be yet aliveAn you did but care.But I am in despair unwonted,
10 Since I'm ungainly in thy mind;And no need to tell me so, inThe truth of your laugh this I find.But the jest shall continueOn through wrenching anguish wry,
15 For an even greater joke would I beIf my jest broke and I should cry.
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Laughter 's Medic ine
“And I shall bust him in the nose!”“And I shall lop his ear!”The joy and delight they gained from thisWas a tad bit much, I fear.
5 But yet they killed him not,They sent him not to the grave,For sport with him they mayst still have,And Laughter's medicine shall save.“And I shall off his foot!”
10 “And I shall prod his eye!”They laughed and laughed a little bit,They laughed hard enough to cry.But laugh as much as they would,Their means of health133 him hurt;
15 And what kept them alive and strongEventually wed him to the dirt.
133 Means of health: laughter is rumoured to be the very best medicine
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Why I l ike Penguins Better
There's a reason I likePenguins more than you;Penguins can't beat meThe blackest shade of blue.
5 There's a reason I likePenguins more than thee,A penguin expectsNothing of me.There's a reason I've
10 Liked penguins from the start;A penguin, it seems,Has a heart.
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Slave
Said my boyYou're a slaveYou've no choiceBut to behave.
5 The world entrapsIts helpless preyIn chains that growTighter each day.How do you like
10 Having no choice,Being unrepresentedWithout a voiceIn the thingsThat you care for,
15 As well as thoseYou'd like to ignore?Matters reallyRub the wrong wayWhen you are given
20 No say.What do you want to do?Do you think you canLive less like a slave,More like a man?
25 Is it just enoughTo breathe,Or would you likeTo conceive134?
134 Conceive: think, not be impregnated
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Am I Nothing Then?
Am I nothing then?An object to despise?A knave to abuse? AFool to believe your lies?
5 Am I nothing then?Not e'en worth the wind to blow?Am I alive to you?Why set ye me thus low?Am I nothing then?
10 Only a toady used to flatter?Merely ground beneath your ladder?A soft stone to hear your tear drops splatter?Am I nothing then?Why direct thy thrusts to stab?
15 Will you cry for me?When will ye next jab?Am I nothing then?A bug with which to tinker and squish?Depart without the fulfillment of thy wish.
20 To you I'm repulsive as foully rotten fish.
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Little Girls
Looking backOn the way things weren'tAnd on the friends andOpportunities spurnt
5 By the rashness ofThe worthless lust,Not to be oneOf the famed busts135
Like Dante or Voltaire10 Or Socrates or Plato
Or any otherGreat man you knowThat stood for loftyThings in this world,
15 But for the attentionOf little girlsContent to yoyoMy feelingsAnd treat me like
20 A handful of shillingsWhen they thoughtTo do so best,And uplift, praise,And use the rest
25 Of the timeTogether spentUntil my temper'sVeil was rentAnd we departed
30 One glumly great day,I wish thatI could not sayThat I obedientlyAnd haply obeyed
135 Famed busts: the plaster statues (shoulders up) of the great that are seen, if nowhere else, in Muppets' Christmas Carol and mentioned in Poe's “The Raven”
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35 An immature snotBecause I was afraidTo lose an underClasswoman sweetheart.I wish I'd known my
40 Feelings from the start.
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Bombardment
How would we feel if our country was bombedInto the ashéd ruins of cratered pity?Would we have deadly wantedTo be present in that city?
5 Would we experience agony,Apathy, despair, and rageOr an overwhelming amount of stimuliToo great for neurons to sensually gauge?I cannot speak for you;
10 I can only answer for I.Should I yet raggedly live,In the rubble I would cryTo see rockgnashed friendsSlayne by war they've not waged,
15 But, instead, by a distantPolitical heat they've been phaged136.Illegally, many heartlessChaotic price gouge, in anarchy loot.But these images bothered less
20 Than seeing bloodied friends covered in soot.
136 Phaged: devoured and destroyed
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Chapter XIX
Spectacles for Love
Love is blindAs am IBlissed with anAstigmatized eye
5 Blinded to looksBlinded to painBlinded to heartacheOnly joy remainsI need no spectacles
10 To seeThat love is blinderThan you without meI only need loveTo lead me through the night
15 Trust in love and hopeAnd not your sightLove needs only a wayWhich it will makeBlinded blinded by you
20 In love do I take
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A Mil l ion Miles
A million miles from nowhere,Trapped inside your love;We go together as well asA lamp inside a glove.
5 It seems I am a lampWhose fire others must not see,Because your oppressive loveIs adept at smothering me.But the irony of it all
10 Is when I manage to break free,I long for nothing moreThan for you to smother me.They say the grass is greener,Thus I desire to change my side;
15 Yet I remain miserableWhether I run to you or hide.
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Adam et Eve
He's unsure how to actShould he continue or stopConfused he's thinking too much a lot.He must get back to her
5 This much is trueShould he continue or stop. . . what to do?At a dilemma point of his lifeTo disappoint or disobeyBut he keeps thinking and thinking
10 With naught yet to say.
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Loved
Love is painThat never will fleePressing your heartAgainst an Iron knee
5 Sadness entailsWhat love won't fulfillLove is as emptyAs a placebo pillMocking your hopes
10 Mocking your dreamsRipping your worldSlashed down the seamsOnly fools fall in loveOnly fools want the pain
15 And, when they realize what they have,They've already gone insane.Downtrodden in happinessPushed to and shovedFell the sorrow
20 And know you're loved.
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Love Like Tow'r ing Hands
Tut, tut, they were immature. ItWas love like a game of tow'ringHands. But the way that they did fitTogether was o'erpowering.
5 Almost anyone can mesh wellA temporary stint of time,But it isn't love, should they tellWords good as those of pantomime—Meaning as much as saying naught.
10 Indeed it was a childish game—As love e'er is—in which they're caught;They'd barely known the other's name.It seems only children stack handsFor domination and for fun,
15 Howe'er, such a childish game standsFor their love's course since it's begun.They were green emotionally,In envy, and experience,Which might be why, ultimately,
20 Each played the part of a love dunce.It was a game without winner,Mindlessly pointless overall.They played the part of the sinnerQuite oblivious to the fall.
25 They accelerated quicklyUntil the point they could not beatThe simple facts of life. Sickly,They were destroyed by their heat.Love collapsed like the chant of a crowd or
30 Rhythmic intensity. It is a chore.
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If
If I could go backAnd never have cried,Would it be worthNot having you by my side?
5 If I could change timeAnd alter its course,Could my meddlingOnly make things worse?If I could have stopped it
10 Coming and never have changed,Would I be better offThen or deranged?If I stop before I say,“I love you even more each day,”
15 Would it be easier for youTo stray or stay?If I'm finishedBefore I'm done,Would you say
20 It was all in fun?If I could haveJust one boon,Would you prefer to liveOn mountain or sea dune?
25 If I could have givenLike you gave,Would that have beenEnough to save?If I could have helped
30 And never had to look away,Would you be with meHere this day?
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Breaking Up
I want to break something,Shall I break your heart?You mean nothing to meThou wench, thou tart.
5 All that I've told you'Tis but a grand lie.I think I'm happyTo watch you cry.I feel elated,
10 You've made me smile.Your sorrow is my joy;I'll drink your tears for a while.Your cries and pleas are empty,But to my ears sweet.
15 This is the best part of our relationship;I like you here, groveling at my feet.I've used you and abused youAnd need you no more.I've taken all I want;
20 You've given me more.
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Regret
If you and IHad never met,Then I'd have nothingTo regret.
5 If you and I Had never spiltHarmful words,Then I'd have no guilt.If you and I
10 Had never sharedThoughts, then IWould never have cared.If you and IShall never see
15 One another again,Then I shall be free.
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And She Was Crying
It was dark ,And the lightWas blinding meWith visions
5 Of happiness.And I was moving,And she was crying,But I was movingOn.
10 Unspoken voicesCry unspoken words.Why can't they hearWhat I feel,What I think?
15 And I was moving,And she was crying,But I was movingOn.The despair
20 Of a burning hopeWrought miraculousPain andTorment inside.And I was moving,
25 And she was crying,But I was movingOn.In the perditionOf forgiveness,
30 I writhedIn joyUnspeakable.And I was moving,And she was crying,
35 But I was movingOn.
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The silenceRang out loudlyIn a deafening roar;
40 They couldn't hearMy unspoken words.And she was crying,And I was moving,But she was crying
45 On.
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To Forgive
I have no need to forgiveYou were in the wrongYou used and abused meAnd I danced to your song
5 To you I meant nothingOnly a new toyBut I am gladThat I gave you such joyYou can say you love me
10 We both know you lieThose words are as emptyAs the tears you cryYou don't want to give me upThere's use for me still
15 But how could I be happyKnowing how you feel?
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Forgive
I can forgive youBut I'll never forgetThey ways that you've changed meThe way your words hit
5 I can forgive youBut I'll never forgetHow you treated meHow you did neglectI can forgive you
10 But I'll never forgetMutual disappointmentSince we first metI can forgive youBut I'll never forget
15 The times you've made me cryThe times you've made me fretI can forgive youBut I'll never forgetA fall from grace
20 A nervous sweatI could forget youIf I could forgiveBut I'll remember how you changedMe as long as I live.
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Forgiveness
You have nothing I wantYou mean nothing anymoreYour words are hollowMy heart's passed out on the floor
5 If I cannot trustOr believe what you doWhy should I acceptForgiveness from youThey say it's a sin
10 To fly two standardsAs such you transgressWhen you proffer those wordsSorry is a wordI'm not willing to hear
15 Pass the lips of youWhom I once held dearI know whom you areI know how you thinkI perceive the betrayal
20 Concealed when you blinkYour eyes do begOf me to forgiveYet how can I whenYour betrayal does yet live
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An Eye for a Cry
Crimson floodAtoning the sinAllying the doubtThe fear
5 The end that hadDrawn nearMaking all rightGoodly and pureNo more need to worry
10 This makes sureTill your sinful heartSins again.
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Communicate
You made my blood course,You made it pulse,But what at allWere the results?
5 You made me pant,You made me sweat,You even madeMe forgetWhom I was
10 What I'm here for,Everything I vowed,Everything I swore.Relationships can't surviveUnless you communicate,
15 But I ratherFind it greatThat we haven't talkedFor a spell.You know I never
20 Managed to tellYou goodbye; I cutThe lines between us.Now there is no relationship,No communication between us.
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Spastic
It's great that you are spastic,A shame you don't know it.Your emotions are elastic,And make you seem childish.
5 Out of the blueYou blow upOver things that are trivial;I wish you'd grow up.Is there something hidden from the eye
10 That causes you to fly offThe handle and chronically lieTo all those whom you curse?
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No One
No one say you love me,As did she,For I am unlovable;None should be with me.
5 Her actions it wereThat made me realizeThe lipservice she pledgedTo me was naught but lies.No one say you love me,
10 Let not that fell word fly!For its stings I can't handle,And I dislike to cry.
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To all the Ones
To all the onesI shall never kiss:You'll never haveMe to miss.
5 To all the onesI shall never hold:You'll never regretThat when old.To all the ones
10 I shall never harm:You'll never knowThat or my charm.To all the onesThat broke my heart:
15 I should have known betterFrom the start.To all the onesFor whom I've cared:Thanks for the lives
20 In dreams we've shared.To all the onesThat I despise:You've hurt me worseWith your lies.
25 To all the onesThat I've made cry:I'm sorryFor any undue sigh.To all the ones
30 With whom I'll never be:You're better offTo have never had me.
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Eulogy
I'm dead, I'm deadI'm gone awayLife's gameNo more I shall play.
5 The salt's all gone,The pepper's shook;But I fear my life'sA closed book.For in the secret
10 Realms wherein I did stay,Many a disguised egg of hopeI did lay.But their true yolksMay be hid
15 'Neath the white liesOf a pickled lid.
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Chapter XX
Loathe
I loathe to visitYou whom I loathe so dearFor when I visitIt seems like a year
5 I loathe to see your visageTo hear you discourseI loathe to communicateAnd do it by forceI loathe you dearly
10 I loathe you trueI loathe no oneAs I loathe you.
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How Do I Loathe Thee
How do I loathe thee?With all the explosive energyThat shaped creationFrom the indescribable void.
5 The greedy passionOf the galaxies gobblingOne another up comparesNot to how I loathe thee.How do I loathe thee?
10 As the tide snuffsThe windgiving spinOf this axial earth.As the etching riverTortures the limestone
15 Over time's passage,Thus do I loathe thee.
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Cast Your Tears
Cast your tearsUpon the sea,But cast them notUpon me.
5 Cast your tearsInto the air,For it aloneShall care.Cast your tears
10 Upon the sea,For water willWith water agree.
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Eva Rhea
Eva Rhea thinks she's in love,But love does not exist,And when she gives her life awayFor that, she will be missed.
5 Eva Rhea was once a pleasantBeing as she was naïve. The horrors (truths) of lifeWas she unable to conceive.Love is only a delusion,
10 A ruse to acquire intimacy;Eva Rhea should have been sparedThe lies by living life promiscuously.
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Mute
I'd like you better if youCouldn't talk or singOr shout or curse orScream at anything.
5 It only displays weaknessTo your voice raise,Yet you do it night afterNight after endless days.It'd be nice if I could
10 Mute you when we're near.I'd never let you utterEnglish or French137, dear.
137 French: oaths
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Souleful Compassion
There are viri that haveMore of a soule than youAnd act with more of aSparing and mercifully holy residue.
5 There are mummies out thereWith intuition who have more beautyOutwardly, than you have insideWhere you're gunky and sooty.There are black holes out there
10 With more visible lightThan there is in your tormentedMind where you keep all as night.My tennis shoes have moreOf a soule than you'll ever find,
15 And I have run hundreds ofMiles on them. I am unkind.There are storms on Jupiter,Saturn, and Neptune of less forceThan your tempered blows
20 And tantrum's discourse.Of course there are songsBy James Brown with more soulThan ever you'll have in theEmptiness that swallowed you whole.
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Malic ious, But True
She would not beAllowed to breedIf my commandsAll did heed.
5 Because she's an attitudeWho beat me up,She should be kickedAnd punched, clothes ripped up.Yea, she's a violently
10 Stupid girl who's wildAnd would definitely procreateA retardedly churlish child.Though she can't breed,She could inhale,
15 For I'd like her less blueThan now when she's pale.
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Paint Thinner Chips
I didn't want to break your heart;I wanted to shred it insteadAnd feel the warm slicknessOozing from tatters as it bled.
5 I didn't want to break your heartUnless liquid nitrogen was involved.Breaking it upon linoleum,I'd know the problem was solved.I didn't want to break your heart,
10 Just cut it out with138 a dull buffoonWho all the while sniffed paint thinner chipsWhile braying donkeyishly at a sunken moon.I didn't want to break your heart;Such can be done with little ease.
15 I'd planned to snatch it outFrom the vantage of the knees.
138 With: in the company of, though the other might be painful :[|]
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CurAid
You are like a bandaidHanging off my footWhere with full adhesivenessYou I did previously put.
5 But now you are annoying,Attempting to cause me to stumbleWhile idly you flap with stepAnd silently do you thus rumble139.Like a brainless parasitical
10 Leech you are “there,”Regardless of my wishes andFeelings for which you don't care.You are even painful atAdieu when you say goodbye,
15 And with a jerk of hairpullingPangs, you try to make me cry.You disturb my wound,When can you be gone?The only way that I shall
20 Heal is to do it alone.
139 Silently. . . rumble: even small and insignificant things make sounds, but humans oft' hear not
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Il leg itimate Father
Why should I claim you,Such an illegitimate fatherWho couldn't even be aroundEnough to not bother.
5 You were not meant to beA father, your actions speak ,To a defect who calls himselfAmong other things, a geek.Like an illegitimate ruler
10 You have no claim to powerOver and in my life—I amEighteen—for even one hour.Like illegitimate offspring youAre disguised in secret bitterness,
15 If thine goals wert thineDeparture, thou achieved success.Though you gave me a nobles'Birth, thou art not nobility.In my life ever you are a
20 Debilitating mark of humility.You are a bastard fatherWith whom I never wish to be.Why should I acknowledge or give youRights, an you could not be a daddy?
25 You can never inherit my love,Any affections, only scorn;The title of the untouchablesShalt be the only thine name to adorn.
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Chapter XXI
¡Wow!
This is a great dayIn world history:Mexico had a revolution,Gasp, peacefully.
5 This was not the case withSanta Anna and the Spaniards before;Changes in power had alwaysInvolved death and bloody gore.But they've come up with a new
10 Concept to vote democratically.It only took two centuries to rub offFrom the borderland of the free.
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Hamiltonian Perversions
Dictators have it right.Never create a liberal regime,As only troubles will resultFrom implementing said scheme.
5 Governing the populous is bestDone sans their interferenceAnd the media's and Congress's.It is unnecessary clearance.A strong central government
10 Is needed to enforce controlsAnd keep them from developingPrivilegeminded holes.Rights and liberties are privileges,Utilized only when bored;
15 Should they obstruct the correctPath, they should be ignored.The media is an appalling evil naturallyLacking a sense of remorseFor the damages it inflicts
20 For profitable greed, of course,The press should be controllable. CensoringShould encompass more than prior restraintTo manipulate for government's sakeThis snottily infectious taint.
25 Far away from war should it be kept;Battle's bloody and compellingTo pity senses while the trees ofInvolvement's support it's felling.The media should, however, be used as
30 Propaganda by a leader with ambition.Giving it free reign and derisive powersCan make a term perdition.As the media the army shouldAbstain from battle so as not to be sapped.
35 But it should be available for ready useWhene'er a country needs to be slapped.
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Religious freedom should be their choice,But the office should be amoral.Preachers should keep their voice
40 In the pulpit and quit lobbying.Religion only cripples governmentWith its ethical stupidity;A government should be unrestrainedIn its decision—IT should be free.
45 Extensive bureaucracy? Nein.Just some Justices in the JudiciarySystem who will the blows ofAntiregimists skillfully parry.A cabinet is a must.
50 Every ruler requires advice;Blindly leading upon whimMay prove to have a tragic price.To keep an Enlightened guise, peopleMust have freedom of religion
55 And, among a few other things,That to vote and of petition.The rights to arms and assemblyMust, for safetysake, be eclipsedTo prevent a group from nimbly
60 Trying to usurp in coup.Handguns are a source of deathTo thousands in that land whereThe citizens consider themselvesFree and buy and shoot without care.
65 A government can't govern peopleWhen of freedom they're dead.Though they may storm/gripe/complain,It's preferred to what'd happen instead.Without readily available death,
70 Militias will be curbed and illegal,Which is appropriate as they are onlySubversive threats to the regal.Criminal's rights should be no complication;What's wrong with illegal search and seizure?
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75 Letting criminals flagrantly transgressIs a weakness, I am sure.If you wish to curb crime,Then felons must be deposed.A real government erects no barriers
80 To make justice repose.A regime should just actAnd give its citizens the finger.Controversy and outrage shouldn'tMake acts and decisions linger.
85 But though it may act withThe general citizenry's consternation,It shouldn't make George III's mistake:Give the ruled an explanation.Be not surprised when the common
90 And stupid masses don't comprehendHow the action was their godsend.God bless Alexander Hamilton.Give the vulgars a real reasonTo feel a sense of political inefficacy,
95 Act totally unrepresented asIt seems to be in the land of the freeWhere the educated and wealthy areMobilized and the rabble rarely voteInformédly or at all, except for those
100Whose choices the political parties tote.Democracies are no fun.One can't invade or take lands,Instead one must protectAnd make them friends.
105Nationalize as in Sweden and alsoProvide great social services through tax.As in Germany careertrack for collegeAnd vocation. Show no mercy for the lax.Further the people in any way, but don't let
110 Them overstep bounds for fear of salutary neglect.If government is sensibly ruthless with their fortunesIn mind it will be disutopian, but perfect.
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Mercen
Mercenaries seem to have beenA lousy idea throughout history.Part of this stems fromThe abundant lack of loyalty;
5 They only fight for the moneyAnd wish not to meet demise.Why on earth should a servantBe slayne for an ill franchise?When the battle has come and
10 One side the other's defeating,Then the smartly paid helpMay be found retreating.If through these hands only your army canBe strong and you make them mates,
15 Then perchance they'll one day rule,And your head'll be on the gates.How much of the services in AmericaAre comprised of mercenaries, as in Rome,Who enlist for money and education
20 And other reasons such as leaving home?
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Procreatory Success
If at first you don't succeed,Be content without an heir.Life's too short and changingTo be bothered with such a care.
5 You could learn from Henry VIII,The father of Edward the Sickly,Who caught syphilis from concubinesAnd the marriages arranged fickly.He should have been content
10 With Catherine of Aragon.He was wed to her twentyfive years,Who cares about a son?The fruit of all his toil140
Died before he could be king,15 After endless work of
Beheading wives and divorcing.Luckily for his last wife she survived,Unlike the third one who'd died.Two and five were beheaded, one and
20 Four were why Anglicanism was tried141.Napoleon should've stayed withJosephine, the devouted, adulterously.For her lack of harvesting a sonHe was distraught distractedly.
25 He scorned the sister of the Czar,After his heartbreaking divorce.After his marriage to Princess Austria,Russia was angered, of course.This proved to be one of his undoings,
30 Though, as Henry, he was a Defender of the Faith.He saw the advantages of placating people,And religion can strengthen the golden wreathe142.Don't divorce for a dynastic heir,Only for love and lust.
140 Fruit. . . toil: Edward VI141 Why. . . tried: divorce142 Golden wreathe: the crown
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35 Don't stress yourself, dynastiesFrequently end, as they must.
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Chapter XXII
Sel lout
I can't waitTill I'm a sellout,And I causeSome to pout
5 By appealing to whatThe vulgars have foundPopular and amusing, asOpposed to the profound.Nothing would be original;
10 It'd all have the same format.But only the fastidiousWould care about that.But to be a selloutI'd need an audience
15 To dupe as if theyWere in a trance.
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Brutally Honest
Don't feed me linesOf cracklike liesAbout what I do.Please, do not disguise
5 Disgust and slash orBoredom with what IHave here written, forEven I hate most of this.Garbage comes to mind,
10 But not just for their songs.Do not build mine ego or 'gainstYourself and God commit wrongs.By untruthfully proclaimingMajesty in mine works for
15 This is truly immensely shamingFor the both of us.Enlighten me with the truth,As is your reader's part.But should ye inform, leave me the
20 Shred of my mind called the heart.
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M. Poster Boy
Shall soon I labelMyself an impostorWhen the works ofThose whom I did foster
5 Or inspire in creationOf new cataloging of ideasI peruse? Would then IBe just an empty fizzOf rhymes that keeps a pathetic
10 String of words from growing flat?When my comrades surpass me,Can I possibly live with that?
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Pr ivation
There must be a tragic endTo original perception outré143
That will culminate inStressed redundancy one day.
5 What will I do when it's all been scribbled,And I'm a dry well, to say the least?Shall I bravely orienteer toFind myself in the Far EastPortion of my mind? Until
10 Magnetically I return,Shall wizened144, boring rhetoricBe the toll of my sojourn?
143 outré: bizarre, eccentric144 wizened: shriveled
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Concise Inter ruptions
A collection of brief wordsAnd interrupted thoughtsIs the prize which myToil has sheepishly bought.
5 Though I'd not wantTo be the foolish brideThat is married blindlyTo an sinister prize,I cannot help but to feel
10 Proud every three versesFor capturing portions of passagesMy mental mind rehearses.I hope that not for brief words andThoughts alone will my life be spent
15 When I can scribe no moreAnd this soule hath went.
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How Truly Weird It Is Others Can See My Words
How truly weird it isMy world others can seeThrough the sketchy wordsThat paint it semilucidly.
5 “Kiss me on my scratchy chin”Is a phrase I currently enjoy.The massacred simple languageI use is often a cool toy.What if I create mine own words,
10 Living languages must evolve,And English, unlike French, has noSet standards around which to revolve?What sense of luckless aweAllows me to survive by the choice
15 Of people who art not me blindlyHappening upon my distorted voice!But how can I expressIn one limiting quatrainHow anyone else reading
20 My thoughts does not seem sane?
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The Zenith of Oblivion
The success of my oblivionI shall never surpass,Should I scribe an epicFor each lad and lass.
5 Oblivion is my acme,Zenith, and bounteous yield.In it the greatness of myCharacters was developed and revealed.Compared to it all else
10 Lies as a barrenly fallow field.Nothing else could achieveOblivion's universality;Everyone can attributeIt to me.
15 Should even a few recognizeOther works my pen doth decree,Oblivion's numbers grow dailyAs the flora in the lee.
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Disdain from Wittenburg Castle
“It is easy to disdain from a sheltered place,But harder to shelter the place of your disdain.”
I can attack your inherent flawsBecause I am protected.With luck , you will change,As I have not projected.
5 And from a secure place in my soul,A speck tedious to locate,I sit 'neath a willow tree.I weep for you and agitate.I would shelter you from
10 This if I only couldDisguise the barbsAs satirists would.But then this assault wouldHave no satisfaction
15 By achieving an indignantOr hostile reaction.
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Hardly Deep
I must extend my worthlessSympathies to those who misconstruedThe signs around these murky eddies.What can I say but, “Sorry, dude?”
5 An arroyo is hardly deepIn liquid, excepting in flood.But even creatures of aridnessCan sting and draw forth blood.I'm sorry if somehow I've convinced
10 Anyone that I'm profound.It is quite the opposite,As you have hopefully found.
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Dialectal
Sometimes language has suchA simple beauty I care notWhat stringéd phrases I createAs long as in their rambles
5 They are not caught up in bramblesBut with joined words they sateMy aesthetic hunger with soundsOf calm glee, in my pronunciation,Which probably isn't copied
10 Exactly in any dialect's nation.
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Wary
I'm wary of influencing anyLike my would be facsimile,Who, though of differing experience,Often involuntarily mimics me.
5 With dark bitterness insideOf envy, anguish, and renunciationComes discourse silently, though not at night,To further some provocation.Thus should be the way of controversy,
10 Sheltered in secrecy for the blinded naïveWho would some innocence lose. AssuredlyI have no goals to make others grieveWhen they could be sparedOf what I would have never dared
15 To with many have shared.
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Chapter XXIII
Secret Agenda Man
For those of you who know me not,I am Secret Agenda Man.I do things for a reasonOr purpose whenever I can.
5 I may be misunderstood,But would you even know it?I go through life without emotion,Or perhaps I do not show it.My name, my name, it matters not,
10 What matters are my thoughts;Those have been encrypted inIncoherent alcoholic draughts.
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Meticulous
An145 I am meticulous,What trespass do I commit?None I say, for in this cautionLays safety, this you must admit.
5 Unless great wrong is hereby doneIn plotting for my benefit.An I weave loopholes,What's the evil in escape?None I say, for it is my future
10 And mine alone to shape.Escape and death are the future,At least in my view,And death comes in many shadows,And it could be you.
15 To stop planning an escapeIs to invite some death,So I shall be meticulousTill ye pilfer my breath.
145 An: if
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I Wish I Could Say No
I wish I could say “no,”But I don't know how,And wind up pushed aroundLike a tipped cow.
5 I wish I could say “no,”But it always turns into “sure.”I wish I spoke that wordMany times fewer.I wish I could say “no,”
10 But instead I'm getting used.I really wouldn't mind that muchIf I, this fault, wasn't abused.
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Whispers
There's nothing like whispersTo make me lose my temper.It's not nearly as annoyingTo whine, grovel, and simper.
5 Whispers are ungodly,I'd prefer to cut your tongue outBefore you transgressed at night;Why can't you just shout?I would gladly slay the world if
10 I thought all whispering would end.But it would only returnTo haunt with whispers again.
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W Turn Off the Lights
When I turn off the lights,Will I still be the samePerson that I always wasRegardless of the name?
5 There's a certain bit of dreadThat results from not knowing.Ever in the dark thisFear continues growing.It's hard to find a way
10 When one must grope aboutIn the pall of confusionDescended to breed doubt.
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Retrograde Amnesia
Sorry for interrupting, love, noIntentions were of being impolite,But I was spurred to thoughtBy a sound or various sight
5 And was unable to mentally restrainMyself from blurting this outIn the middle of your comment. I'll abstainIf possible in the future, butOnly if you'll forgive
10 Me for making conversationsSound as if on anesthesia.I doubt the exchange would haveBeen as lively when my thoughtWas lost to retrograde amnesia.
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Grade.Average
How does it feel to driveSomeone away from thePlaces they once playedAll because of a grade?
5 It feels like cellophaneAnd the perfect diet;I lose the weight of friendsThough I eat right.The more I exercise,
10 The less I grow socially fit;I'm now a power house, and forTheir GPA they're scared of it.
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It Started In December
Somewhere in this storm I mustSearch and conquer, divide and destroy.Winds rage and howl more fiercelyFor moments of importance and joy.
5 Did it begin with a gentle breeze?Alas, I do not remember.Was it a perfect storm?No. Well, it started146 in December.An unknown mist is ever present,
10 Blown ahead by the breeze.Perhaps it is the only storm147
That can be quelled with ease.
146 It started: I was born147 Storm: life
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Some on My Eighteenth Year
What does it meanTo lose eighteen years?Does it mean I alsoLose etching fears?
5 Does it make my eventfulLife a waste or two,Since there are deeds I cannotEver possibly hope to redo?Can that loss make me a man
10 In more than a numerical way?I still feel as lost and aloneAs I did yesterday.Can it hide me fromFigures of my history,
15 Memories, guilted bliss,And the preadult me?What could it possibly do besidesMake me ponder an hour or twoOver how and for what I've changed
20 This miserable life through?
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Pods for Transportation
I don't driveTo be free of the guiltThat washes overMy soul like the silt
5 From the floods of the NileFrom passing one strandedBecause of the fearsOf any blows landedTo borrow my life
10 Or pilfer my vehicle.Fear and intentionsPut me in a pickle.I don't drive to preserveThe life of another;
15 Drinking's not required to separateOne from their motherOf sickness, disease, and corruptionSome blandly label earth.But accidents of no kind
20 Are filled with mirth.Why drive when youCould travel by podAnd feel the moistBounciness known as sod?
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Always the Exception
Always the exception,Never the rule;Never the matadorAlways the bull.
5 In peaceThe only one to die;In loveThe only one to cry.If the battle
10 Were half done,Then to the otherSide I'd runTo tell themIt has just begun.
15 Always the exception,Nature's joke.Laughter is the thoughtI seem to invoke.Always the exception
20 To life's laws;In me Nature has investedAll its flaws.
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I Never Claimed I Was
I never claimed I wasWhatever it was you decided,But your cruel assumptionHas my spirit slighted.
5 I never claimed I wasA hero, dashing, daring.Yet, you drag me into a rescueJust because I'm caring.I never claimed I was
10 A genius that is smart,Yet you've blatantlyTold me so from the start.I never claimed I was a god—I'm rather more of a lemon.
15 But if it matters,I am his gift to women.I never claimed I was Santa;Are you calling my friends short?If I had flying reindeer,
20 I'd hunt them all for the sport.
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Meaningless Depression
For months I sank into a meaningless depression,Angered at the world and fate,And seeking mainly for regressionTo a time when I enjoyed life.
5 But there was a vacuous pleasureDerived from this selfinflicted faux pain.It led to an addiction to this,As opposed to a life that was only plain.For no true reason, other than for joy,
10 The sun became my deep abyss to flee,All light abomination; Depression a toy Employed to feign enlightenment.Why did I quit my pathetic game?Did I grow weary of being drearyhearted?
15 Thankfully the days whence IPointlessly burdened life have departed.
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Dead People
I hate dead people;They always catch me in an awkward place,Only to gloat in seeingA startled look on my face.
5 It's not that I hate them all, onlyThose who abuse their powers as a ghostTo use me as a conduit.Those I hate most.
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Spell ings
A basic misconceptionThat deluded me a decadeWas the fruited bitternessAn uninformed ignorance made.
5 Though I greedily learnedFantastic foreign alphabets,There was a simple truthMy mind could not get.No languages had I learned,
10 Just the idiom's phonemes.I was not a bit closerTo my multilingual dreams.The spellings of words assuredlyHave no direct translation.
15 The spelling of “foot” is“Pie” in that Spanish nation,And in Greek would notπιεMaintain the same denotation.
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Depths of Dubious Deception
I am the most profoundShallow fake that I know,And I'm hoping that thisAspect will in me grow.
5 It's great to spout nonsenseUnquestioned by the massesWho would read more into it,As if they'd the right glasses!It's soothing to profess
10 In an openly veiled guise.If one asserts mistruth'sFalse, is't still counted a lie?O, how great it is to have someThing in which I cannot excel,
15 Such as my running, much deridedBy those who enjoy doing well.
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GroundLovers
I don't seem tall,You all seem short,As if it were the loveOf ground you did court.
5 But, though I am two yardsIn measurable physical height,When I gaze down upon my feetI am rather confused by the sight.If standing, I reckon my height
10 To be about three measly feet,But I resume the fullness of statureWhen, oddly, I recline in a seat.Perhaps our characters shrinkWhen we stand upright,
15 But I'm satisfied in this light;All shrink proportionallyAnd therefore in relationOur heights remain the sameAs they were in that time
20 Before upon our feet we came.
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Inkéd Blood 's Transpiration
I murder pens,It's a darkly evil crime,But I frequentlyDo it all the time.
5 Slowly I drain them ofBlood as black as ink.It would be more thanTorture if I did drink.But in all honesty,
10 I confess I chewThoughtfully in ravenous ponderingUpon the fleshy, plastic tissue.
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No One Ever Notices
I lose me when othersHave gathered roundAnd a member of groupThought have I been found.
5 None can perceive the maskPresented calmly to societyWhich differs occasionallyOnly by expression. I am meWhen alone only, if even then.
10 Masking subconsciously myselfIs a regrettable sinWhich compulsively happens sansTemptation or thought spontaneously.From this surely few are free.
15 I am unsure of which identityTo above all be true to. TrulyIt's a sad predicament,As is my tendency to be usedBy others since my inability
20 To refuse is often abused.I'm not too sure if I mindAfter the point when done completely,Since the greedy and fauxPraise and thanks result in glee.
25 Also, I've got lusty earsThat listen for the most part,Excepting for the omnipresentSadsob tales of a broken heartWhich I am tortured with
30 Against my wishes in their despair.Again it is not noticed thatI share no sympathies or care.
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Ireun
My mouth no longer makes theCorrect sounds to pronounce iron;In my mind I hear it soundSimilar to the name Byron.
5 Yet, each time I say it,Nasty Southernness seeps through.Naturally, it sounds as írenuhAnd consciously as írun.I cannot say it despite what I do.
10 Among other words I mutilateIn the efforts of trying to speakIs the bothersome one “human” whichOft' induces me to interject “Freak!”
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Myself
Myself, I am as an old shoe:Worn out and broken in.I also have a tongue, andMisty148 says I rarely grin.
5 My soles are beaten thick ,Though not as grassstainedAs when my feet went unclothédEver outside, e'en when it rained.I suppose the hitchhiking parasitical
10 Stickers upon my feet performed surgeryAnd scarred them with calluses; Dr.Booker only left me a “z”Upon my right foot's bottomAfter kindly removing toes
15 Of tumouredly increased length havingThe webbing that a frog grows.The two nailless joints of the sameSize as my pale foot's thumbAre only a few of the defects
20 Which prove my biodad dumbOr evil, as I would tend to believe,As sins are rumoured to be paternallyInherited. Though I love kids andA dozen I desire, iniquity
25 Hampers the making of a congregationUseful for yardwork and playing baseball;I wouldn't want to burden themWith defects or sins at all.My toes were hacked. Was
30 It to make me more understandingWith the crippled and handicapped?Or was it a test of my withstandingOf jibes and insults and criticisms?Was it for firmer footing upon which to stand
35 For my thoughts and passions and others?
148 Misty: Misty Reynolds
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My right hand's larger than the other hand.Was this accomplished for me to graspAsymmetry and the toils of inequality?A “perfect” nose149 had I before an
40 Youthful accident changed its identityAnd branded it with a scar of “L.”For misdiagnosed polyp, I nearly lost smell.Now am I unable to pick at another's nose.Is this to enable me to sniff out woes
45 Of others and cast them toMy twisted canal of an earWhich easily retains water and asA child was oft' infected, I fear?Is this excess length of maze
50 To block and trap sinful gossipOr to enable the hearing of thatWhich others keep bottled up?Alas, my teeth have conspired againstMe in order for me to miss
55 What I truly don't need butWant, namely, a kiss.An eye has astigmatism,Is it to see?My tongue once rolled up,
60 Was it for secrecy?I still cannot talk , butI stutter and stammer alright.It's such a brutal pressureIt's driven me to write
65 [Excessively.] These defects mustHave a purpose. Could it beTo be mindful of each personAnd to trap myself within me?If I am defective as a recalled
70 Product, can I justly slanderAnyone else with flaws? I seemTo be much as a salamander:
149 Perfect nose: I had rather thought it so
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Slimy and unwanted and despairing asI drown myself 'neath the dark
75 Rocks of burdens and work whileHappy couples skim the surface in a bark.That's not to say I'm jealous,For I breathe through my skin,And the joyful chemical of companions
80 Would I gladly take in.It's nice to know some can be content,Though every perfect couple's flawed.Just the same, loneliness hasThis salamander gnawed,
85 And it yearns for the emptyCalories of epithumial sugar's150 meal.I eagerly dine, sadly, in retrospect,For when I could have had veal.Though a salamander's skin is mucous,
90 Don't consider it snotty or a snob;It is merely a misunderstood andListening and lonely blob.And, me, I don't like myself,I'm a sucker for selfdeprecation.
95 Constantly do I gloatIn its painful application.Call me a masochist; I'veBeen called worse before.But don't be deceived when
100Taunts I seem to ignore.But back to the old shoe metaphorFrom which I've seemed to wander,My soule is often beatenAnd of it once I was fonder.
150 Epithumial sugar's: lust's
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Packaging Peanuts [Safety]
I am a pack ratIn most aspectsI discover when myselfI lazily dissect
5 To analyze the mannerismsAnd occasionally driving motivationsThat guide me into or provideEscape from circumstantial situations.History pains me with its
10 Gaps, as in some girls' teeth.People constantly reinvent the wheelInstead of merely a wreath,As knowledge is lost or destroyed—What a naggingly painful thought.
15 Irony would be the destructionOf this poem I have wrought.
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Without a Mind's Eye
I can imagine IAs many various things.Yet, despite concentrationNo sights does my mind bring
5 To the mental forefrontOf darkness, each eye shut.Perpetually blinkedI see strange colors, butNo form's definition
10 Dances e'en wispily,Though I attempt futilelyTo force my dreams mentally.Picturing images inBooks has ever been through words,
15 For though I grasp the concept,No scenery to it girds.
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Amoebic Pseudopod
Teammates have real feet usedTo attain speeds quite fast.But, lacking these I oft'Finish quite dead in last.
5 By loving grace was ICreated by the GodWho saw not fit to formTrue feet but pseudopods.I suppose it's better
10 Than moving by filament,As others who do naughtWhilst I race with my knees bent.
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Infall ible
I am no Pope, ergoY'all can criticizeThe failed attempts ofMy pathetic, meagre tries.
5 Catholic can I not claim toBe, nor the Bishop of Rome.The Vatican, though close in size,Is not the city of mine home151.My first name is not Alexander,
10 And I'm not language's master.Truth be told, I'm more ofA threat or unnatural disaster.My diction is common, unflowery,And unlofty as plain white plaster.
15 Simple are my conceitless schemes,And I'd be neither152 e'en in dreams.For, though either way I'd be close to God153,I'm certain I have the very best bod154.
151 City of mine home: Pelham, at that time152 Neither: the Pope or Alexander Pope, a deceased literary genius153 Close to God: one's a religious leader, the other's dead154 I. . . bod: It is not decayed or agédly wrinkled at the time of this writing
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Chapter XXIV
Doors
Everything is a door,Behind unswitched lightsThat are hidingVarious new sights
5 That morph. You won'tBe quite the sameAs once you were beforeThrough that door you cameInto a new plane that
10 Your identity scars.Each new door gives higher rank ,Adds another barOf arrogance toHow/what you see.
15 Sometimes rank will changeWith whom you wish to be.
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A Valediction: Truth
I have becomeMy own,And biasesMy life has sown.
5 You the truth,The fact,By biases displaced,By opinions made to react.There are two sides
10 To every story,Then there is you.You never more shall I see.With my desires,I become blind
15 To the truth;Bias is all I find.
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A Valediction to Innocence
Where have you gone,All that I once held sure?Why is it thatInnocence shan't endure?
5 But with ageComes the powerThat is knowledge; washingYou away in a shower.Happiness and peace,
10 Contention in life,Replaced with your lossBy an unending strife.You left me void;I must decide what to do.
15 Wisdom at one hand;Consequence in the shoe.
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A Valediction: Forbidding Morning
Fare thee well,Sweet slumber.But on earth dwellNot, bright morn;
5 For you bring the endTo the passing of spiritsWhich have no way to defendAnd only spirit me off.They leave me in lands
10 Of sweet peaceTo walk the soft sandsOf dreams.But come not, fell morn,Nor you, rending dawn,
15 Or the sun you adornWith pink skies.For you come at nightAs a thief, to stealThe dreams at their height
20 Silently.
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To What Was: a Valedict ion
I am no longer whatI was once deemed;What was me is gone,As is all I dreamed.
5 The icy hands of change haveFirm grasp upon my vapors,And futilely should I prayDuring evening's vespers.Into the dusty bowels
10 Of a painful oblivion,Living on in the druggedContrasting memories155, I went.The empty shell ofMy existence was filled,
15 And the stuff of my stuffingProves unpleasant to taste.And I yearn for a biteOf what was once before,But what was went into the night,
20 And I'm sending farewells from the door.
155 Contrasting memories: no one will remember me perfectly, and contradictions will arise
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It ' s the Goodbyes That Count
Why is it we struggle forFame and immortality?For, in the end, all will beForgotten, lamentably.
5 Some carve one's name to etch outA permanence that will giveThe world and generations aReminder that once one did live.But why fret over a lasting name
10 When everything will be destroyed?Oblivion at the world's destructionCan neither Shakespeare or Plato avoid.Perhaps to spite this, we humansAttempt to try to have fame?
15 But renown upon this earthIs meaningless and a shame.When ev'rything must be forgotten inOrder for the next generations toHave a feeling of desolation and
20 Accomplishment, just as with me and you.Thus, thoughts are meaningless, since noneAre original, but have beenShared by generations who haveDied, as we all will in the end.
25 The only controllable thingsAre our eked out lives, after all,Since we cannot control how we will beRemembered, if, indeed, we are at all.It would be well to make the most
30 Of this power and cultivateFriends, acquaintances, andEnvy, greed, love, and hate.But be sure to set things aright whenAt the end of associations,
35 For it's been said a dying manMay at the end take salvation
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In the last hour, no matter theActions. There is hope until it's goneWith one and the faretheewells
40 That will render one alone.If one should ever wish to live, thenMemory is such a crucial key.Like the Ghost of King Hamlet,One's actions must cry, “Remember me!”
45 How can one be assuredA life in recollections?I say it's not best doneThrough wealth and perfections,For people recall most vividly
50 Births, funerals, and separationsAnd forget the bulk of life'sEvents' conglomeration.And because we'll ne'ermore be asWe all are here at this right now,
55 We should honour and make the most ofThe occasion before saying, “Ciao.”Wish you all luck and happinessAnd truly hope you will have foundThat, though together we may have grown
60 For a time, it's the goodbyes that count.
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Dark Blue
In the dark blue156
Seas will I sail,Who tided islandsThoughtlessly impale.
5 Winter is symbolicAlway of death,Soon of black uniforms,And, of course, frozen breath.Truly a great thing
10 That hue must be,If it is, as it seems,Destined for me.Any sorrow's forThe rutted life left behind,
15 As any fear is forA new one to have to find.
156 Dark blue: The Navy
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Here Marketh the Endeth of the Poesy and the Beginneth Of
ProseWORKS
including short stories, thoughts, lists, a deliberate double negative, advice, quotes, and blah.
This section is dedicated to Mrs. Grace BuckBecause she encouraged me to start writing
Again. Thanks. Sorry if this section is notWorth of you, Mrs. Buck.
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Chapter XXV
Bananas
It is generally recognized by scholars that bananas are the source of all evil. Their imperfect creation, for they contained strings, led the most mighty Lucifer to delusions of adequacy. As a few of us have been imparted with the knowledge of what next happened, it becomes of the utmost importance to speak no more of Satan's fall but of Eve and Adam. Eve was in a garden and had just been quite let down by a banana, or, more specifically, its strings. Lucifer, sensing an opening, was apt to proffer the apple, as it is commonly acknowledged subconsciously. The apple was a most perfect and stringless fruit; the desire for perfection outweighed a trespass against God's commandment.
Modestly do I propose to end the terrors of this world through that plan which I shall now disclose. Petitioning of Our Lord God Almighty should commence immediately. He cannot easily ignore the cries of the troubled. Like any ruler, He derives His power from the popular and sovereign common folks. Working in prayer together shall we convince Him to scrap the world and all other planes, start anew from scratch, and this time create a perfect banana. After all, one mayst do anything in faith.
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Bananas Revis ited
It seems that only scholars and infants are in possession of capabilities enough to understand that bananas are the source of all evil. “Evil,” what is associated with this? Surely the fall of Lucifer. On the seventh day while God yet rested, Lucifer was exploring heaven in all of His glory. The Lord had seen good in all things, and, indeed, the bananas were good but yet imperfect. The tiny strings inside were revealed to Satan. Lucifer, as he was then called, was taken with wild fantasies upon learning of this fault in creation. Bananas were indeed the inspiration157, and, as such, are the root of all evil.
157 The inspiration: of the war against the Throne
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Messy Breakup
The silence was broken by only a beep. Then, another followed quickly, as if 'twere an echo. On its heels, the light crept into mine orbs. 'Strange,' thought I, 'Sight hasn't seemed to grace me for a while.' With the next quick , onomatopoeian beep, turned I my head slowly. The room was empty except for an mortal or two and some pseudoflowers.
Having little better to do and being yet too lethargic from sleep to stir, I began to study the figures. Namely, the masses of tissues happened to consist of a slightly balding man in his middle ages and a lady in an white outfit who bore a needle as an implement of war. Drawing dangerously near, with it she smote me and consciousness fled as the needle, a heroinaddict's158 best friend, sank into my IV.
When I awoke possibly much later, the lady was gone. The man was present yet, hunched slightly over, and countenanced with a look of sorrow that melted across his steely brow.
“Why so glum, stranger?” I asked the curious looking chap. Then, the more important question proceeded, “Why the devil are you in my bedroom?”
The realization of his acquaintance flooded my frail mentality when, alack , he unfolded himself to his full height. Ah, of course, he is the father of my bonnie girlfriend. Was the father of my exgirlfriend, rather. Unpleasant laments of memories my weak mind taunted in a deluge as large droplets upon a tin roof. Only a snatch of his prose communication did I catch.
“An eulogy, you say? Well, I suppose I could. You might have to help me up, though.”A crisply overclouded morning later, stood I in attendance at her graveside funeral, where tex
tured and clay red heaps of earth were strewn about in decoration. The small crowd was silent, no doubt due to the awkwardness of speaking when an apology is the only phrase which can be uttered. Her father nodded to me, and I hoped my voice would come. I began.
“You were a person, may God rest your soul for that alone. My happiness you engineered. My worthless burdens of cares and troubles in your presence were insignificant. In you many found an escape to which'd be called happiness, and you are ascended to an afar off better place, now. We all love you.” Some of the throngéd nodded in assent. “I love you, even though you happened to slaughter my family, almost slew the one called I, and offered up yourself. You were a special person, and your desire was only for united assembly there in heav'n. I just never realized how much you loved my family before. But you were always thoughtful, caring, and overly loving. You produced the only perfection which mattered, the gainliness of all. Had I not survived the precious gift of your injuries, I would be in company with you celebrating and psalming.
“But I should not grieve your passing or that of my family. You would not have wanted that. Indeed, your actions expressed an eagerness to have me with you ever. I'd like to think within delusions that that was to make my present grief over you unnecessary.”
I know it's not a great eulogy, but I'd prefer that you'd cut me some slack. I'd only been out of
158 Heroinaddict: an abuser of heroin, a drug that kills, especially artists
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the hospital for a day, and three days prior and attempt had been made upon mine now empty life. Afterwards, when the clay entombed her temple 'neath a mound which would later depress, her father and I grabbed an Ensure. Thus fortified, we, like men, cried ourselves to sleep.
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High School Love
My Dearest,
Is there a burning passion within or without your heart perhaps wishing that we were just slightly more than friends, or are my sympathetically aligned emotions sown in the bloody fields of a barren heart? From the length and breadth of my soul, however deep that might be, I wish for nothing more than for us to be just slightly more than friends. With your consent, we could be happy and do the same old things together! We could have penguins together [the little ones with yellow fur, if you and any other readers don't mind.]
We could talk about all the same old things, exactly as we've always done. We could flirtatiously glance with a secret knowledge that we were just slightly more than friends, and, maybe if I am lucky, I can give you a piggyback ride. I could call you mine, and you would be. For at least a tiny part of your brain would belong to me for what it felt. As would any hormones that may or may not cause your heart to race faster when I go near, even should this be attributable to your running like an ostrich the other way. When thinking of my high school experience, I could look back upon our justslightlymorethanfriendship and romanticize that you were my high school sweetheart.
Furthermore, when asked about the love of my life by a college dormmate, I could take a sigh, raise my head, and look him in the eye to say, “Mine moved on to greener pastures, though she'll eventually realize dry hay is for what she yearns.” All night could I stay awake and wonder if you were or were not thinking about me, what you were or were not wearing, and what you were or were not doing at that nocturnal moment. Every time I would perceive the stars through this haze of love or hear any random song that you may or may not have liked, I could sigh, as any romantic should, and think of you. In only ten years could we reunite at our high school reunion. Perchance we could waltz in connected to each other's arm. But it is highly unlikely, since you will not even go to prom with me. Oh, do not fear that being slightly more than friends would obligate you to go to prom with me, for, truly, we would still just be slightly more than friends.
Truly yours,Yours truly
No One in Particular
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High School Love: 2
My Dearest,
To my attention has it come that you have been rather reluctant to go to prom with me. While the sheer reason for this hesitancy still eludes me, I do hope that you might change your mind.
IF YOU LIKE LISTS:
The Top 3 Reasons To Go To Prom With Me:1. Wes has the strangest rash.2. Green is not my favorite color.3. You love me.4. My finger you broke.5. I can count.
IF YOU LIKE POETR Y:
Roses are red, Violets are blue,And I really wantTo go to prom with you.
Or
Elvis died on a golden stool,And if you think he's a fool,Then I am but a fool for you,And your eyes that are not blue.And it would surely break my heartIf, when prom does start,You were not upon my armWith all your beauty and some charm.
IF YOU PREFER PROSE:
Well, it seems I've got to convince you to go to prom with me. Why, you are the only thing I know of that could make the night special. But, if I know you, praising your beauty will not work , and
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neither will bestowing grand epithets upon your name. Instead, I'll threaten you, my dear. If you do not accompany me to prom, I will implore your mother to make you. I might even entreat her to fill your unfillable place in your absence. You know I'll do it.
If You Want An Explanation Of Why I'd Rather Have You Than The “Others”:
●Danyall is too young and could not even hold a flame thrower up to your bright light.●Laura contracted the rash from Wes. Ick.●Your mom doesn't run from or sick dogs upon me.●Marcus is taking Laura already.●You make me feel like Ebola inside: warm and tingly.
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Death Rides a Green Bicycle
The blistering sun presented shimmering waves of heat into the open arms of the Mexican desert. The scalding sand was too harsh for most animals and surely all mortals this day, and yet, across the arid land rode a figure. A black figure, in this climate, black!! Slightly hunched over the handles of a green Road Master, he rode diligently onward.
To the normal observer, this eccentric figure would be strange enough. Yet, upon a second look's passing, it all became a tad bit more disturbing. The waves of heat did not shimmer this person's figure as a mirage. Indeed, it seemed to desist at first contact with is blackness. The normal observer would have been intrigued, upon further observation, at the lack of dust of any amount which he disturbed. But, then again, the normal observer would not observe him for many more years.
On through the undisturbed sand and desert brush rode this welldefined being. In a matter of moments, he had biked the distance that a cheetah would need many minutes to cross. On this mercurywinged biker rode. Presently, this mysteryshrouded oddity arrived at a shoddy leanto. Pedaling around the back , it found a sunbaked man lying on the ground, gushing his life's blood, and otherwise out of it. Dismounting, he reached out with an emaciated hand ominously. The stranger's eyes shot open.
“Me llamo Muerte.”“Your name isn't Death,” replied the wounded man, in a surprisingly healthy tone, despite his
condition.“Oh, it isn't is it? What would it happen to be, then?” queried the blackgarbed figure with his
most proper Spanish sarcasm.“I do not know, but it isn't death. You do look like him, but any fool can purchase that attire.”“Look closer. Then, notice that my attire keeps the heat from my body,” replied Death<?>.“Bah, I don't believe you, but do come in. Mi casa es su casa.” With that the wounded man rose to his feet, walked knockkneed back to his leanto, opened
the door, and made a gesture to Death to follow. When they had both entered, he shut the door and sat down upon a vegetable crate.
“Why do you doubt my credulity?” queried he whom had announced himself as Death.“Well, for starters, I'm still alive.”“That can be taken care of.”“And another thing, why are you talking to me? Shouldn't you have just grabbed my soul and
run?”“That would have been rude. Besides, I bike. Mind if I have some water?”“That stuff will kill you,” replied the Mexican.
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With a rather patronizing look , Death took a dusty glass and filled it with the dustier Mexican water.
“Now, as I was saying, that would have been a rude action. My duty is not only to collect souls, but also, in part, to inform you, the deceased, of which stupid mistake(s) led to your demise.”
“And mine was?”“Probably the stupidest one I've ever encountered. Did not your mother warn you of playing
with Mexican fireworks?”A conceding grunt was the only reply. After a few moments, the situation's paradox finally oc
curred to the deceased.“How is is that, be you Death, you can stand here and talk to me, and such? Aren't there thou
sands dying every second? I mean, I feel honored and all, but isn't there someone else you could go bother?”
“You see, my mere mortal, I am immortal. As such, I can create my own time system, much like railways159. In effect, I could stay here with you as long as I wanted, which isn't long at all, mind you. Yet almost no time whatsoever will have passed in the place where the demised feel it matters. In this manner, take I my vacations and breaks. Could your simple, illiterate mind imagine how incredibly depressing it would be to see corpse after cadavre every second of the day and never get any rest or relaxation?!” Death actually shivered.
“Hmmn. I suppose so. But what's with the bike? I've always heard tale that 'Death rides a pale horse.'”
“It's a common misconception. It should be 'Death rides a green bicycle,' but there's nothing to do about that now. You see, my subject, it all happened only a few centuries before you were created. In memory of my excellent service, the Lord had presented me with a unique white Arabian mustang, license plate DHW257. Out of Christmas Day gratitude160 I decided to use it the next time duty called. It just so happened that the next deceased was a scholar of some sort, and he was taking pains to scribe. He had seen me through the window of his cell, stiffly riding my jouncing steed. He immediately began writing of me, and when I had snatched his soul, he had written, 'Death rides a pale horse.' What he had originally meant to scribe was 'Death rides a pale horse, badly.' Since then, I've found the time to clear up the misconceptions and to be courteous. I do not snatch souls anymore.”
“But bikes have only been around for a century or two, and only a few decades in my country.”“My master is AllPowerful, AllKnowing. He has “your” technology long before you do, much
like the governments of this world. Do you have nay other questions?”“Why do you need the water?”“It is a demonstration of the power of my shroud.” With that, he poured the infected water over his cloak. At least he attempted to drench that
159 Much like railways: time zones were created because of railroads needing to have an accurate time so that they would stay on schedule from location to location
160 Christmas Day gratitude: using something once and tiring of it immediately afterwards.
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opaqueness. The water itself hovered about an inch from the shroud and cascaded downwards161, marking his supernatural forcefield and its bounds.
“Most impressive, Death.”“Ah, you believe. Those will be your last words. I know you've always wanted to see the face of
Death!” With that melodramatic communication, he flung his hood from off his head, and the Mexican
was entirely freed from the bonded shackles of humanity.Truly, the face of Death is personal, and not a static, bony visage. It instead is the likeness of
that which we love or despise most. Indeed, it is a most appropriate way to dispatch people to either heaven with a pleasing face or to Hell with a nightmarish apparition. The question now concerning the Mexican is, did his screams issue from the fires of Hell or at seeing his exwife up close and personal?
161 Cascaded downwards: water has a tendency of doing such
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A Tall Smooth Shaft
In the dark and putrid waters the orc swam. The dark tower was ahead. Swimming about the exterior, he finally found the door. Carefully he opened it a crack , while placing his body completely behind it. This was not for fear of a squeak , but for fear of the possible magic traps rumoured to be found about the place. Hesitantly, his head he moved into a position to peer into the dank recesses. He sniffed and waited for his eyes to adjust.
Glancing around, he saw only the walls of gray slate marred with darkly gilded patterns. This did not settle well, the emptiness; his fixed stare was analytical of each detail now. There was a guard, of sorts, indeed. The aging armor he wore that blent in well with the walls was no protection in his sleep. Gently, with strong black hands of stone, the guard was muted and strangled. Above was the treasure vault, but no stairs were to be seen. Hostilely picking up the dead sentinel's body, the orc sought out some form of transit to the next floor. Groping along the wall, a set of patterns collapsed mushily; it was most likely flesh preserved through arcane arts. The center of the tower floor made a small clicking noise. Alertly, the orc sloughed the corpse from around his neck , and used it as a shield.
One could not enter this tower armed and expect to survive. Its attacks were as powerful as the combination of weaponry and armour could withstand, should one lack dim wits. Few goblins had thence tried to enter, as none are very intelligent. Those that have were heard screaming for miles around. It proved a deafening roar for the grand procession led to the tower and served to dash hopes and slightly damper morale. This one, though, had journeyed alone in the midst of night; no one would be sure of why they must lament, in their own barbaric fashion, should he not return.
When the floor did nothing further, he edged the dead body onto the side and up rose a translucent disc, distorting the walls. The orc hastily jumped aboard, and lay with the guard's armour blocking him, he hoped. Looking down, he saw the floor and the gaping door; maybe it wasn't too late. The orc shifted to the edge of the disc and hung supported by his weathered arms. When the lift stopped and the guard's body was not consumed by fire or magic, he ventured back onto it, and then onto the precipice to the left that led to a short bit of stair. Advancing cautiously, he made it undisturbed to the top of the stair where was a pedestal, or maybe, in his creed's fashion, an pagan altar.
To his great disappointment, only a small black pebble was upon it. It was not for this he had risked his life. Greedily resigned, he shoved it into his pouch. The next moment he was falling.
Like the pixelated blocks in an ancient video game162, the textures of the walls passed by as he slid down. This would prove to be an enjoyable night, after all. With a splash he plummeted beneath the murky surface, only to return like a bloated cadavre. The orc swam around to where he remembered the doors to be and gasped in astonishment.
There she was. Or more accurately, there her formless figure was. The stark black hair blew with
162 Like the. . .game: games such as the original Doom appear blocky in appearance as of 2000
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its own wind, and she seemed to be beautiful, if silk suggestions could be true. Speaking from a voiceless face, she rasped like an armadillo with laryngitis.
“I am Sefri, great lord; I serve you. You disturbed me from the chains of slumber, and I should worship you if I had the body. Save my soul from this dark tower where I was banished, and I shall be yours. Look for a locket.”
And like love, she disappeared.Repeating the process, he cautiously opened the door, sneaked in, and strangled the aged guard.
Pressing against the triggered fleshgilding, he started the lift upon which he placed the lifeless form of a useless wretch. He assumed his position of the pendulum, dangling as the translucence elevated him towards the precipice. With a sickly splat the arrow registered in the guards body as the ghostly archer disappeared. Gore163 was everywhere, in savourous patches on the disc above and upon his orcish hands. He had been lucky this time.
He took the departed's flesh box164 with him as he mounted the precipice and stairs. perhaps the castle would find the sarcus of some use for future gildings165. Approaching the altar, where the previous guard lay slain and excavated like Egyptian tombs, the shimmer of a lusterless object caught his eye. There dangling from the bloodied gauntlet was a twisted chain of burnt ivory and jade with a heartshaped ornament of the impurest samite clasped to the necklace for its life.
Tossing the unbreathing down with ease, the figure peeled the gauntleted hand's lifeless fingers from the necklace. The emaciated body revived at that moment to sit up and reach for the object it'd been safeguarding. Like before, his guarding ability proved to be nonexistent. A thick blow dispatched him. Several bones were heard to clatter upon the floor of the tower after plummeting over the drop behind the altar. But the orc had no time to fix his attention on this.
In the water where he found himself, having not been dropped but transported, Sefri glided toward him. The locket he extended in an open palm. It was lifted by the formless fingers on invisible arms to where her mouth would be, judging from her raven locks. It opened and, as a bloodcolored something was drank , her form gained the outline of a golden and opaque flesh. She called him master.
She followed him flitting in a floating fashion as he parted the doors minutely and created a crevice. Before he went in, she placed upon him the necklace, which she assured him was for protection. Now having an audience, he took the slumbering and now even more so decrepit human in his painful hands, smothered his muffled screams, but could do nothing to hide the hollow echo the crack of his neck made. Sefri seemed impressed. The disc was operable by heart, and this time he stood valiantly by the slumping dead one. As it reached the top before crossing the rim, Sefri uttered the curdled scream of one enjoying dying.
It tickled at his mind, and sent tremors down his soul. It lasted till the precipice was level. He felt weakened, but the bodies of the two former guards, this time whole and evil tumbled down the
163 Gore: blood and guts and glory, not Clinton's VicePresident164 Departeded's flesh box: dead guard's corpse165 Gildings; such a the one upon the wall that triggers the lift
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stair, more lifeless than they'd been before their blades they drew to rush the former killer. Sefri was laughing; the orc was perplexed. But greed and power caught his eye.
There on the pedestal was found the object of his intentions. A crimson globe swirled and pulsated with blood. On the sides were the skeletal hands of an ancient and puny mage. It was the ultimate source of destruction, and it was his. As he stepped forward eagerly, dragging along the third dead body, he focused on the crystal made from coagulated screams and blood. It would be his. With remarkable ease he found himself near the evil orb.
Stroking it with fondling fingers occupied the passage of a moment before he tucked it with the pebble in his bag. He found himself and Sefri in a perilous water the next. He only wished there was a storm brewing.
Dead guards and other demons filled the waterway with evil. They were sorrowed to see him depart, thus they'd attempt to keep him here. As Sefri screamed and leveled some few, the orc exerted his new found power. The menacing demons and their spawn met metamorphosis at the hands of the orc and his globe. They became helpless babes drowning in the mire.
The terror of such gurgling screams was a pleasant boost to morale. One of the toddlers he willed levitate at the nearby seductress. It obeyed the bidding of the ball and presently was cradled in the conforming air circa the orc. He tickled its ribs and feet, drawing blood where his finger traveled. As damask etches singed trellised paths across the flesh, it squealed in delightful anguish. The orc would send it on its way wingedly.
As he tucked his prize safely back up, Sefri asked if they would venture inside once more. He told her no and pointed to his caves; the amulet burned with a glow.
“Sefri, what are you? From what delightfully fell power does this necklace protect me? I have felt my very being itch and tingle and yearn to flee.”
“I am a banshee, the spawned evil, soulhungry succubus. It protects your soul from my shrieks.”
More than enough of an answer, the two sweets headed back to where he would be king. It was day elsewhere, but in the presence of the evergiving tower, it was as black out as his soul.
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If Deer Were Deists
“If deer were deists, I'd be one,” said a ruminant to an egret pecking painfully at his side. The egret took this as an offense and pricked once harder with its beak.
“Do you say I've driven ye to godlessness? Is that what you imply?”“Only quite the contrary, you are a moralizing spirit. Another, me, brought about my fall, and
deism is not without a god. Perhaps you confused it with atheism?”The egret pricked her pretty pinnacles166 and cocked her plasterwhite pate to another side while
peskily perching. “Oh, really? I am unfamiliar with that doctrine, as with all others including mine. What is that that it should be believed?”
“Well, I cannot speak for deists, who believe God to be more or less aloof from the inner and everyday working of the world, but only for what I believe, which happens to be the core of most dogmas. There is a God; there is a Christ; and the resurrection troubles not mine accepting mind. There is a Heaven; there is a Hell; and perdition's what we make of it. There is pardon; there is sin; and it is weak woman's fault. Among a multitude of other things, that is how I identify.”
“But do you affiliate with no group? Is that to say you don't practice or congregate?”“I'd not fainly become bonded to any at this moment. But, before you try to me convert, as any
does when hearing an unsure or desolate cry, instead of merely offering aid, know that I have checked into many doctrines. None of them suit me, I am afraid. Of your cult's particular brand of Christianity, as well as the others', I know too little but far too much. It is funny how the trivial things separate the cults and sects into divisively hostile factions, but at the core most are the same.
“I just practice and embrace the core set of beliefs which are the things that matter. Why bother with the flimsy additions of man, which breed wars and prejudice? I need only prayer to talk to God through His Intercessor. Bishops and priests are but a creation of those seeking power and control. As for congregation, yes, I attend the temple. God said the body is the temple of the Lord, and I try to keep mine clean as pure as humanly possible. I attend in spirit those services which are held within, and where I gather the only important person is (Jesus.)”
“O woe to see you err thus by practicing the basic beliefs. Though denominations truly don't matter, churchgoers must be subjects to fiefs!”
“Lament for me not,” continued the deer, “for whilst one day I may be God saluting, ye mayst be gnashing for selfdeluding by believing the words which man enjoys polluting. Perhaps you think He'd not let the Bible be corrupted? I say look at how the world slipped to sin as did man within due to freewill. Also, what is the Bible? Is there a definitive answer or translation? King James had one engineered, the Apocrypha is perused by some, the Dead Sea scrolls are too sexist, and books like that one the Mormon have been created.
“If eager for another work of perversion, invite everpresent Jehovah's Witnesses inside. Then, ask of how many can go to heaven, if such to them exists, and of giving gifts and blood. Most be
166 Pinnacles: projections called the outer ear where the earlobes are
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sides, among a few others, 144,000 disappear after death never heaven to see. Apparently th braindead creator misread Revelations concerning the 12,000 Jews from each twelve tribes. Though Christmas is a happy celebration, they believe not in gifts and such glad remembrances; what spoilsportive louts. Blood, a gift of life, should not be shed e'en to give, as such is a sin. A lad is damnéd for in play pricking another's skin. Why would any crave to be thus restricted and unhappy, if not because of the needed joy of being deluded?
“There are Muslims, and there are Buddhists. There are Shintoists, and there are Hindu. There are Hebrews, and there are a plethora of splintered cults and sects of Christians, such as Baptists. Certainly each religion is flawed, but at least one of the faiths is somewhat right. The others, being deceived by false witness, which He warned against, give an perfect example of the Word's corruption. Each has its collection of instructions and History claiming to be from divinity; is it not possible to doubt the integrity of what man purports as His Word? Doubt is, after all, the defense mechanism of logic, the realization of something skewed's presence. This rational reason of doubt is why it is detrimental to faith, an innocent and irrational consumption in belief.”
“So wise, but so foolish. Deer, whatever has happened to you to make you thus?”“I have happened to myself. One day I awoke in sad epiphany with awareness of the hypocrisy
in which I lived. I was literally in the depths of a faithless pit. Woe for that buck I used to be, as well as the fawn I was before that, a sinner in my naivety. I became by accidental circumstances part of an elite group of the despairing. Though none of us were quite the same, it was refreshing to find another in which to confide radical beliefs. One cannot speak the things we've felt to just anyone in the hunting grounds of Southern Anabaptistry.”
“How did these sinners change you?” queried the querulous egret questing for the quintessential mite.
“No more than I did them; we grew from the other's weaknesses and trust. We could not tattle upon the other for being just as stripped and lowly. I would not call them sinners as you connotate, for, though all do sin, which is an everyday occurrence for me, we were and are perhaps more holy than the hypocritical sanctimonious, who judge others while lolling about lavishly in sin's bubble bath.”
“You surely speak of Southern Baptists, but how are ye more entitled to judge?”“I am no more entitled than any other that breathes, albeit at least I realize it to be a fault.
But speak not to me of being judgmental, you are a stickler for meting the mote. You remind me of an old me whose skin and life I used to wear as an innocent adornment. But a latter me before this time poisoned him when rather deprived of senses and yawning167. Alack , that I could be blissed with the ignorance of innocence again! That I could behave as condescendingly, certainly, and biasedly as do you. But even at mine most ungodly hour, I retained some precepts to which I once adhered. I'd curse not or behave as illy as the others who caroused and smoked, snorted, pierced, tat
167 Deprived. . . yawning: think of how when one yawns hearing sort of rumbles and gets drowned out by some internal avalanche, and sight becomes blurry, etc.,
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tooed, inhaled, or injected. What hypocritical measures forced me to restrain from being truly immoral in these times I comprehend not. I suppose I had a lingering character.
“I rather hope you lose not your innocence, although such does have its benefits. Eye E, I am more acceptant and placid. Once I too scorned for petty actions without exploring one's innards, but now I cherish mine ability to understand and listen to all. It must be the residue of once believing myself destined to be one of those clothed celibates who hears confession.”
“Farewell, you pious grounded one, I fear I must you leave. I cannot suffer to be robbed of that which I believe.”
And as the egret flew thence, the deer obstinately cudded. He lacked not zeal; he was not coldblooded. He only was alone because of that beneath his breast, which was a loneliness that, indeed, he'd keep from the rest. Of the innocent and sheltered, he once was one of the best, but he'd lost the bliss, as musical exposure will oft' attest.
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AA Meetings
It was the Christian thing to do, to give someone a second chance. She'd tried hard to combat drinking. Personally, Bob hated such fermented sins. But if she disliked it, too, and saw its evils, then what was ill of his action?
“Hi, I'm Bob, and I'm an alcoholic.” With those words he lied to find compatibility. Bob had never tasted alcohol, but he knew it wasn't for him. Only the weak of emotion, thus spirit, needed a sinister resort.
“Hi, Bob,” was said in communal sobriety.After the meeting he found Sandra, who purported to have been dry168 for six months. She
thought Bob was a nice name, and Bob thought Sandra was a beautiful woman. These two factors worked to his favor, and that Sunday they had a date.
Bob would have never met Sandra had he not come to the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and he would have never thought about coming to one, if it wasn't for the hairbrained idea of his friend Josh. But events worked out to please Bob. This hairbrained idea of going to AA meetings to meet women seemed not to be all that hairbrained after all. Now, as long as Bob did not marry Sandra, everything would be honkydory and okay. No meaningful or monetary relationship should be founded upon a lie.
168 Dry: sobre, abstinent of grain and grapes
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Sleepy Date
My friends told me I should get out more; to this end I went on my first blind date. I had received a call saying that the perfect girl for me had been found. To be sure, I was quite skeptical. Anyone perfect for me either did not exist or was seriously flawed.
It turned out to be the latter, though that's not a bad thing. It was, perhaps, the best flaw in a person that I have ever discovered.
I'd been up for the past fourty hours before I was to pick her up. But that was normal for me. The abnormality was her desire for me to meet her at her house at 5 PM. Having naught better to do, I obliged.
The date was not the most successful, at first. It was just like any other ritual of trite courtship. I picked her up figuratively, we went to the movies, and then out to eat. The movie, being a new age and meaningless chic flic, was uneventful, and I was rather disappointed in it and her personality. Afterwards for dinner, we ventured bravely forth to Burger King. It was only 7:30.
I was honestly unsure of the quantity of toleration which I could endure concerning her. We just did not mesh well. In fact, the only things that were meshing well at the moment were her face and some ketchup on the brown, plastic tray. After I actually noticed what had happened, I began to smile.
I savoured the moment for quite some time, but soon I gingerly lifted her highcheekboned visage out of the red stuff and attempted to remove as much of it from her hair as possible.
When she came to circa ten minutes later, I was unable to gleefully restrain myself from relating the event. She smiled in disarrayed dismay. Something was troubling her, and, in due time, a moment, she disclosed her personal secret, her flaw.
She was narcoleptic to the extreme, her reason for loneliness. Dates had never quite worked out for her. In fact, she wanted to be liked such a great amount that she had taken a healthy dosage of ginseng prior to our rendezvous.
Personally, this was the kind of gift I'd been dreaming of for ages. Everyone else thought I was strange because I almost never slept. But I had little time to romanticize, for her head was drooping again.
She was fast out, ergo, I carried her across the threshold of Burger King and out into the parking lot where my car was napping. A pilgrimage to her residence was undertaken, and I put her in bed. She awoke soon afterwards, as tends to happen, and I commenced reading Dr. Seuss books until she was no longer awake. It did not take very long, this feat, mind you.
The second date to the zoo found her asnooze upon a blanket located somewhere under the stars and heaven and dew. I needed not a third date to realize she was the perfect person, the only person, I wanted. She was so beautiful, her and her sexy narcolepsy.
I still remember proposing to her, as it was a somewhat important event. I had sat her down in a chair as a precaution. Then, kneeling upon my knees, I uttered those unforgettable words, “Will
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you stay awake long enough to inform me if you'll marry me, my dear?” She did and ditto.Life has never been better for me since before that time she was discharged into mine own care.
I have exactly what I want: someone to care for. True, we've never had any children, but I do not mind. It is probably for the best, as she might fall asleep during labour, a time when she should be breathing. However, it's not like the bed rest would kill her. She's my baby and my babe, and I love her just the same.
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Santa
There once was a woman from Sao Tiago who fell in love with Santa. Well, it was rather hot in Sao Tiago as it lays in the Atlantic tropics off the African coast., and the reindeer were unable to frequent the heat. Ergo, Santa could only visit her about once a year. To keep Mrs. Clause from growing suspicions like icicles about the presents, he decided to make gifts for all the people in the world. They were made especially for the naughty ones, like that person from Sao Tiago.
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Knowledge and Excommunicat ion
Communing with oneself is a cardinal sin. This selfsufficient chatting implements a system of selfknowledge. Possessing any form of knowledge whether it be of bananas or else of jackanapes, is a sin against the AllKnowing. As knowledge is power, any knowledge subtracts from His and is treason.
Therefore, I propose that any such that should dare attempt selfcommunication should suffer. Upon the first offense all offenders should be promptly excommunicated. The second offense should therefore be met with the first death, which shall be followed by excommunication's second169. The knave who dares attempt to hold lengthy conversation following the second offense shall have his—for he it always is as women are faultless and men are the sources of original sin—tongue removed posthaste
From thenceforth, he should be a rather jolly citizen, if mute.
169 Excommunication's second: if one is excommunicated, one shan't make it to heaven and would therefore suffer in Hell and the Lake
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The Naked Mole Rat and the Penguin
Once, there lived a penguin, and she madly fell in love with a naked mole rat that fell in love with her. The penguin came to live with the naked mole rat in his burrow. But, alas, she couldn't take the heat.
“Honey,” the penguin said, “I've got to get out of the kitchen.”“Well, come on inside the living room burrow and lay down in the cool. I'll finish supper,” the
loving naked mole rat said.“No, honey, I've got to go back to where I came from. I want to stay here, I honestly do, but I
can't.”“If you cannot live here with me, then I'll go to Antarctica with you. I cannot live without
you.”They packed up their love and left the homely burrow to live in cold and windy lands. But, just
as the penguin could not take the heat, the naked mole rat was unable to cope with the bitter freezing cold. He died. In the snow.
Moral:There are some things love can't conquer.
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Pygmy
A serpent and a pygmy, kangaroo rat/miniature Shetland pony halfbreed had had enough.“I've had enough!” hissed the serpent seethingly.“So have !” joined the pygmy halfbreed. “Senseun, I just don't like this party. The full breeds
are squares, and they delight in mocking me.”“I know, Hajj,” lamented the serpent Senseun. “They simply don't realize the sheer synergism of
our symbiosis. I mean, why can't we be friends?”As Hajj and Senseun departed from the party, which was a total drag, they began to sing, al
most inebriatedly, that song which was aforementioned. The residents of the area were none too pleased with this disorderly conduct or their tragic rendition of “Why Can't We Be Friends.” An ensuing chase by befurred authorities followed. Befuddling their would be captors by switching tunes to Christmas carols, the two decided to hush and go home.
“Hey, Senseun,” commented Hajj as he rode upon the undulating ripples of massaging scales, “have I ever mentioned how the patterns of your hide seem like a kaleidoscope?”
“Thinks me, no,” said Senseun.The barrage of mindaltering designs upon Hajj's furry mind ended as Senseun's serpentine
spine stopped its vacillations.“Snarky!” Senseun heatedly exclaimed. This was followed quickly with, “Curses, I suddenly,
upon reminiscence started with the successful arrival to la casa recall that I left the keys inside. The door is locked to boot.” The last seemed to be an oath squeezed through his fangs.
“Bummer,” Hajj replied. “Guess we'll have to break in.”“Certainly.” This was said tensely, as anger suffused Senseun's body. Tonite had not been his
night. Everything had gone wrong, and, as he launched himself into full assault upon the door with the intentions of breaking it down, a grievous mishap chanced. There, in Senseun's tight coils, was Hajj's poor, halfbred, constricted form. His oversized hind feet kicked in nervous spasms, but his life was gone. To make matters worse, Senseun was still locked outside without his key.
He decided not to let a perfectly good meal go to waste.Moral:Violence is not the key.
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Scales
Fish have ever been known to be the greatest land warriors. That kind's prestige and valour is undisputed. All creatures feared the scaled blitzkriegs and pamphleteering they were notorious for. Thus, it came as no surprise when the fish attacked the frogs; they'd long been enemies, and fish are itching to be belligerent.
It was a petty and trivial cause which served as the aggressive catalyst, as such things of war normally are. The fish felt slighted by small children who mistook tadpoles for minnows in infantile ignorance. How could they, the mighty fish, be confused for such base, slimy, and petty creatures as frogs. The two were completely different! Fish have scales. Perhaps it was a feeble reason, but it should be, as it was only a mask for the truth. The fish would battle frogs o'er anything due partly to rivalries of habitat but mostly to hatred. Fish could have easily gotten over sharing flies and space with amphibians.
Fruestro was a part of the army on the occasion of that joyous assault. It was an astonishing event of awe to mark his brethren charge in masses onto the land, pointed helmets on pates. He would not interfere with the others, deny their honour, or mar the triumphant scene. Thus, his manners forced him to let others go first. As he watched his comrades be mowed down by the slings of suffocation and the tongued hordes of berserk frogs, he fully grasped the importance of honouring his father and mother and subsequent commands. If not for the politeness which they had taught him, the flopping throes of an asphyxiating demise would have him.
Sheer reason told him via voices in his head that death lay in store, should he partake of the assault. Perhaps there was indeed enough room for coexistence Using his head, he stayed within his element. As he swam home, he began to focus on forgetting the horror of the Chapultepec scene and his perished friends. Sheer happiness was more important.
Moral:Put others first.
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Ground Beef
Laendrax was a philosophically attuned chipmunk. He had studied diligently in the university and learned every aspect of thought and manipulation. But, such studies had rendered him ravenous. One day he set off to scavenge, for he had learned naught of sustenance's cultivation. As he roared internally, Laendrax noted Borac by the dead oak tree caressing a slice of pizza with his mouth. Laendrax was led by his belly and deep convictions.
“Friend Borac,” he began, “I cannot help but notice how you feast upon that betrayal.” To Borac's displeasure Laendrax ranted upon the evils of a chipmunk eating pizza. Pizza's an Italian dish, ergo Borac was betraying his culture, kith, and creed. Sure, it starts with a medium sausage pizza with breadsticks, but where will it end? Borac was long asnooze when Laendrax concluded with a statement of culture's destruction. He finished the pizza, but only to ensure that Borac would always cherish and respect his native customs. The crust he left.
Proud of his trickery, he later happened upon Shoile, who was presently grooming. She was the prettiest of all chipmunks, ergo she was the most deceptive. Should he in some way best her, then he would indeed be the rodent with the most cunning. He wasted no time with becoming a victim to her charms and utilized such moments saved to sermonize. An eloquent discourse gave he which dwelt upon the sin of vanity. She should not discard uselessly her moments with grooming and such narcissism but with the worshipping of God.
She heeded him not but ignored him in her sleep. When, quite becomingly, she drooled heavily in an nearcomatose state, he knew that he was a master orator.
He decided it was time to get a manicure and a haircut, but, before the barber's stripe spied he, he spied another victim, a stepping stone of practice. Jalill sat upon a root lusting mouthily o'er the octuple double cheeseburger with onion which he held tenderly in furry paws. Eager to exercise his talent more than make a casualty of the cow, Laendrax struck his pious pose to perform. He would still eat it though; why waste?
It would be a most excellent message dwelling upon health risks of red meat and onion's profanity of breath. Jalill hesitated not before he drew his piece like a sketch of the purpled sunset. So ended he the lecture abruptly.
He had always been leery of men who professed or lectured greatly, for they are nearly always hypocrites. One thing Jalill could not tolerate was that form of sinner vile. Another was for people to rant about dieting and weight loss; he knew it for the sham it is. He would not fall victim to the anorexic promulgations of the greedy who would eagerly destroy youth. He simply could not tolerate an attack upon his food. As he chowed down upon four pounds of burger, he inwardly glowed and developed an hankering for garlic. Laendrax had learned not to come between a chipmunk and his ground beef.
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Moral:Speeches are boring.
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Mandibles
A pizza, a breadstick , a potato wedge, and a buffalo wing had always been competitive. In the burgeoning childhood which they shared together, never had they cooperated. In competition and bitter rivalry play time was spent. Supposedly they were stronger for such demeanor. In their prime a bet did the group make concerning which could survive longest in the desert. As that reindeer's party170, they left for the West to live alone in each other's aidless company.
Almost immediately the hot wing's expiration date stood him up. He was merely a gaunt, skeletal figure thinly surrounded by a greasy hide. Such a fatless, meatless waste of mastication could not last long surviving from his own body. Though he was arrogant, he was dead. If any sense had he, he'd have brought food along.
Not much longer did fortune smile gaptoothedly upon the pizza. An entourage of small woodland animals on vacation happened to pass the slices in their travels. They befriended it via their devouring bellies. One can't begrudge the fuzzballs though, for the sylvans were doped up on catnip and absorbed in Pink Floyd's Ummagamma. The munchies are too powerful a force to be reckoned with peaceably; the pizza will be sorely missed.
Alack , alack , the wedge the dust bit. The chap had withered into an decrepit emaciation of gauntness, a shell of his former self. Its starches were evaporated, and a sickly rash of mold he developed. Perishables cannot survive the sun sans refrigeration's shelter. He perished for heeding not the cacti's ways: conservatism.
Though the breadstick won, she too lost. She wept wee wat'ry weepings for her friends' loss, but such is the fate of food. Her own destiny was, without a doubt, just as lamentable. She was built for survival, for she was tough, filled solidly within, and sexily tanned. However, she contracted skin cancer from being by Solaris rebaked in the pursuit of the perfect tan of vanity. As she lay withered upon her tanning bed of death, the victory of the challenge was less than the little consolation of nothing. Ultimately, the challenge had been as worthwhile as the humiliating toils of a game show. The edibles should have used some common sense and collaboration.
Moral:Buffalo wings are useless.
170 Reindeer's party: Donner
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The Pimp and the Pheromone Rose Garden
A wealthy man took his abode in a large and drafty house at the intersection of the two largest roads in the city. The front lawn was festooned with the crimson blossoms of his roses. The sweet perfume of this garden was overwhelming to the senses, especially to those of the feminine persuasion. This was due to the sweet pheromones that emanated from his specially cultivated roses. To protect his precious and valuable buds, he posted signs reading, “NO TRESSPASSING!” and, in jest, “ALL VIOLATERS WILL BE PROSTITUTED.”
The pheromones remained too much, and one morning he found a young, beautiful lady passed out in the midst of his garden. A handful of his thorned stalks were grasped delicately in her hands. Always kind and gentlemanly, he roused her cautiously, as one should do with any stranger. She, in turn, begged and pleaded that he not send her away. She'd seen the signs, but was too intoxicated to care. He took her inside and placed her in one of the many empty rooms. He figured she was stressed or otherwise out of it. Largely forgetting about the young lady in the face of his work , he came home to find her on the corner.
Not wanting to earn a bad name, he rushed her inside. By the warmth of the hearth she explained that she was living up to her end of the bargain. Shocked and horrified, he protested. She agreed to quit the nonsense, provided she could keep the room and visit the roses.
Upon returning from the office the next evening, he discovered an abundance of feminine company. As luck would have it, the authorities had dropped in as well. When the ordeal was over, his reputation had been destroyed. With nothing to lose, and perhaps something to gain, he began letting the females live up to the commandments of the signs.
Morals:Sarcasm and jests are lost upon many and are taken as literal.Women are weak.A truly desired object may cause one to give up anything.Once the pride of a reputation or tradition is lost or broken, little else matters.
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In the Off Season
“In the off season I'm a banker,” he surprisingly began.I had not expected this phrase to be spoken by such a man. But then, I had not expected my
love to run off trancedly and fixedly as she had done. We'd been walking by this large house and she had disappeared. To be completely honest, I had not noticed her absence from my side for a number of moments. I was educationally studying a house we'd just passed with rather seductive lawn gnomes. When after a few minutes of oggling these ladies of the night no rude comment was made, I came back to thoughtful consciousness with the hideous awareness that my lady was not there.
When extensive and furtive looks around the environs provided me with a glimpse of her meandering through the lush crowd of forbidden pleasures, I gleefully pursued her with a heavy heart. Fending off the advances was a delightful nuisance. Maybe she had not seen.
“Dear, was it something I did?” I knew what I had done and was expecting her to taunt me with a threat that, 'since I liked to stare at them so much I should court them.' Or maybe that she was becoming one because she wanted me to stare at her that way. But there was no answer.
In the center of a labyrinth of a rose topiary garden and maidens she stopped. Fully expecting her to turn around and retort belligerently unfair words, I halted and cringed. Instead, she took a big swig of the air and sighed like a lovesick airbellows.
A man who looked odd in large gold chains and baggy clothes bustled limpingly over to her, shoving aside the other mistresses who obstructed his laughable strut.
“Ah, a fresh recruit,” he spoke. “Ma'am, you have just trespassed upon private soil and ignore the posted consequence.” He nodded to some signs I'd not noticed for the seduction draped 'round them. “You must now serve as a woman of ill repute for each day you remain on this property, rooms will be provided for you, and you can leave when you wish. I imagine you'll stay for the roses, no?”
As he said this he jerked his head to fix his stare on me. Several chains and piercings dangled. “You sir, please follow me. I expect you arrived with this woman.”
I had no intentions of selling my body—I wish to have kids171—but I followed anyway. Inside this gargantuan establishment he led me to a room of modest proportions where I suppose he conducted his business.
“But unfortunately, I haven't had an off season in a while,” he continued. “I enjoy numbers and money, I really do. But the ladies, they just won't disperse. It's the roses you see. They have some chemical that attracts them. I cannot destroy the roses; they're insured. It would do no good, in any case, for the ladies have them grafted and planted all over the rooms. But you probably care nothing for my woes, for the girl you were with is becoming a salesperson outside. It's happened before, I regretfully add. The fellows come in angered at me. They threaten me, rough me up a little, and snatch at my clipon chains and jewelry in an attempt to inflict pain. But after I explain every
171 I wish. . . kids: prostitutes rarely have children because they take care of themselves too well
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thing, and offer them board and free admission to the activities, they all leave relieved—relieved!—to be free of a drain on their income. They don't want to stay in the same house with them, but I have spotted them with the free pass tickets a number of times. I proffer the same offer to you.”
Well, to embrace the Socratic truths, I knew I'd love to be in such a position. Room and board and entertainment would be completely provided. It would be like taking a cruise won or paid for by parents. I guiltily confessed as much.
“Well, this is certainly a first. Someone willing to take residence because of the roses indirectly.” To which he added the comic afterthought of the offer. “You wouldn't happen to want to take over the affairs of this estate, would you?”
“Would I!”“Then sign here,” he said with gravity as a set of papers he produced from the desk. It was a le
gal contract to sign over the management and operation of the prostitution ring under the terms of Nevada law for reasons that it was just too big for one pimp to do alone. It also contained a number of stipulations including providing housing, leisure time in the garden, and maintenance of the permit172 for the business.
Stripping off his clipons and grabbing a suit, he strolled over like a man relieved of a thousand nattering wives. He patted me on the back in thanks. I noted that his dap173 no longer bore the signs of mental retardation that it had earlier. Then, he left me to run affairs with this warning.
“Enjoy these arrangements if you wish, but there's no future in pimpin', I warn you; it tires the soul.”
172 Maintaining the permit: the permit was especially important, for he'd had had the authorities visit him for sinning without one previously.
173 dap: an affected way that someone walks
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Chapter XXVI
Letters and Epistles
MEMO TO: Teverance/Friend & EditorFROM: Pheleppi/Unaspiring Author & TormenterRE: Letters and Epistles
“Literature Spr ings from Bloodshed”
Literature seems to spring from bloodshed. The ancient rituals that resulted in dramas were mired in sacrifice. The Iliad and The Odyssey have their roots in the bloodbath that was the sacking of Troy. It seems Shakespeare has his fair share of bloodshed and suicide as well. Why, literature from the Age of Reason sprang from the corpse of King Charles I, so to speak.
Since literature so issued from the prominence of plasma, I have had an epiphany, although perhaps nothing quite that deep. I could send you sections and brief encounters of uncapturable thought in words via letters and epistles. Then, if you were quite accommodating, you could send back criticisms. Replies do not have to be purely constructive, for I understand how much that would injure your abilities of expression. Besides, an requirement of an author is the ability to take deconstruction and negative suggestions. Eventually from these should you grow.
If and when you tire of this, kindly disregard this form of exchange. Above in the first paragraph, is the first selection, picked only to warn you that you may develop bloodshot eyes from which my style and subjects may benefit.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Letters, epistles, literature
Let me begin by inquiring to find out if, forgive my ignorance, letters and epistles are not one and the same. Now, to the real beef, are you implying that I'm cynical or sarcastic in any way? I resent that implication, but mostly because it is true. You say “you” at the end of the second paragraph. Am I to understand that you feel that I need to grow, and from that infer that I am short? I simply do not comprehend myself and why I put up with your remarks, but this sounds as if it should be an effective manner for me to constantly deride your work. No longer will I have to wait for each branch of thought to be compiled with the others. Oh yes, you will pay.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Grecian Forgetfulness
“If Adam and Eve Were Greek”
If Adam and Eve had been Greek , we may not have been here today. After partaking of the fruit of knowledge, they realized their sins. Because of these sins, they were cast out of Eden to multiply the earth. But if they had been Greek , the two could have taken a sip of the River Lethe and forgotten everything, including all of their sins.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Not to be curt...
Shouldn't this rather state that they'd merely forget everything, since knowledge was the sin?
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Nuns with olives
“The Sexuality of Virgin Ol ive Oil (and Other Per ishables)”
Why is Virgin Olive Oil called Virgin Olive Oil? Is it because the olives used to make it were pure and virtuous? Were they never touched by the hands of men, never profaned due to their chastity caps? And Extra Virgin Olive Oil, what is this? Is it celibate for twenty or thirty years or something? Were those particular olives grown at monasteries? Who knows. . . ? Due to its moniker of Virgin Olive Oil, should the freshness seal be called the hymen? I mean, once the freshness seal is lost, it is gone for good. Should we call the freshness seals of ketchup and milk , etc., the hymens as well? I guess it's a good thing that milk loses its virginity at an early age. I don't know if I would want it if it was untouched and pure for twenty or thirty years. I don't know anyone who would. But that's pretty much all I have to rant about.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Okay, that was awful
Would you really care to know anyone who would want to drink thirty year old milk? If so, I can refer people to you. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this rant. Keep up the great work! There, I do praise and encourage you from time to time. I rather fear that you'll switch editors if I do it too often, though.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Destroying belovéd children's cartoon characters.
“Truth about Bambi”
Mention the name “Bambi” to anyone these days, and one can watch the whitebeset eyes fill with love and admiration and zealous fanaticism for the much belovéd hero. But, ask an aficionado why he is a hero, and, if one actually contemplates it, hero he his not. People naturally accept the more polished views, the more romantic ideals that good publicity has given him. He protected his girlfriend, he saved the forest animals from hellacious flames, and he is King of the Forest, now. The sad truth of the matter is that society watched him grow up and that Bambi is male.
When one knows someone intimately, one must forget the other's shortcomings in order for one to live up to one's own personal standards. If someone meets not one's standards, one then becomes beneath one. Well, multitudes were acquainted with Bambi from his birth, and this bond blinds endless numbers to his faults and leaves them limited in vision, as the visible light spectrum, to his innocence and cuteness. A sense of adoration is cultivated because of his family's power. The combined effect of the friendship and power leaves us unable to find faults in him, as truly, friendship and power condone anything.
Bambi is male, and males are scum who are weak , proud, and needy. Bambi was weak , for he could not resist the mere batting of Feline's eye. He also had to have his daddy rescue him from the fire. The pride comes with his status, an undeserved rank at that! He did not assay to try to attempt to save the other animals, much less himself, from the ravaging flames. Bambi was so romantic, fighting for his love. Yeah right! He was defending his claim. He did not love her; deer have no souls with which to love. Availability was everything.
Bambi is an oversung hero. He did not try to aid his fellow creatures in a time of desolation. He fought for lust, not love, and his rank was handed to him. Alas, society is blinded to this, and, in turn, twists these event into ideals. This is due to a prolonged exposure to blinding innocence. Bambi is male, he's weak , proud, and he has needs. He may also be proud of his needs.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: I'll never look at him the same way
I hope you're proud of yourself! I know I certainly am. It's not often an imbecile effectively destroys misleading interpretations, and I'm proud of myself because, well, let's face it, I'm me. For some reason I cannot help but to think that with this you symbolically used Bambi to represent guys as a whole. Continuing this train of thought, you made effective use of a framework to introduce opinions and bitterness, as shown with the neglected remembrances of a friend's faults as found at the second paragraph's beginning. Kudos. I cannot wait without hesitant enthusiasm for the impending Snow White parody, which surely must follow.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: I'll stick to real monsters
“The Real Story of Frankenste in”
Frank was only five, but he was still a baby. He listened to his mommy. He helped her bake cookies and cakes and pies and more cookies. But the worst thing he ever did was to eat his vegetables, like his mom had always told him to do.
Last Monday was his first day of school. But Frank was a big boy, and his mom had told him not to be afraid. Naturally, he wasn't scared.
That morning, on the short drive to school, Frank saw a horrible car wreck and there were dead body parts and blood everywhere. When he arrived at school, all of the kids started laughing at him and making fun of him and kicking him and calling him mean names.
Frank had made a few new friends by lunch time. But his teacher hated him. A lot. In the lunchroom when he was walking to a table to sit down, the kids threw food at him, and took his money from him and took his food from him, and stuffed him in the garbage can, and poured milk all over him. After the principal knocked the garbage can over, Frank crawled out; junk was dripping all over him.
The only thing anyone would let him eat were the moldy, nasty, rotten, disgusting vegetables. So, he ate them like his mommy had always told him to do. Frank got really sick and threw up all over the place, and, because of this, his teacher took all of Frank's clothes off and chained him to the water fountain. There, all the other kids laughed and spat upon him.
Frank was starting to change that night from a cute five year old boy into a horrible monster. In fact, he scared the monsters under his bed.
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Frank was eager to go to school the next morning, and when his mommy went to kiss him bye, he bit her head off. In class he learned how to hurt the other students and tear them apart and eat their bloody hearts raw.
I hear Frank ate his whole school, and all because the school food turned him into a monster. By the way, he starts school with you tomorrow.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: But women are monsters. . .
I'm not exactly sure how this story fits in with anything else you've done. At first I was intellectually bored with it, though basely amused. But then, upon your admission that it was an allegory, albeit a weak one, I distilled much into pure pleasure.
If I understand correctly, it parodies the evils of school. At first, Frank was obedient, caring, sweet, and the perfect son. But then, after being ridiculed and exposed to others, he lost his innocence. I'm not exactly sure how to completely explain the lunchroom scene, other than to say that school food was a bad experience. The whole monsters under the bed allusion surely must refer to how other kids ruin the simple joys of life (e.g. There is no Santa, Easter Bunny, or Boogeyman.) I suppose people really enjoy torture and illtreatment, at least women seem to take pleasure in pain.
Biting his mommy's head off is a figurative element, no? He'd grown up enough to retort and refuse kissing in public, no? His teeth could not have been sharp enough to literally bite her head off, although I could see gnawing. The ending, well, I suppose it's symbolic of every student. They destroy each other with taunts and snobbery, and each day is a fresh start to repeat.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Whirring pipe organs
“Organic”
Playing the organ is like flying a helicopter. Every limb is engaged in a continual process. Pedals are involved in both. Mistakes on either are quite tragic. A large amount of difficulty hinders learning the operation of both. These monstrosities produce really neat sounds.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Musically untalented
I would not know whether this comparison is correct. I'll have to take your words to be the truth. A decent comparison it was, in literary terms. Nothing deserving of great praise. Maybe, if it were longer and involved some sort of transition, conjunction, or sexual reference, then it would be more enjoyable.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Songs by the Rembrandts
“I 'm Here for You”
“I'll always be here for you.” How true those words are. One will always be where one is; and that, for one, is “here.” One can be in Cincinnati or Tokyo, yet you will still always be “here” in relation to another person. One could be tied up, unable to get to the phone, and slash or plotting his/her death, but one will still be “here” for him/her. As long as one never says, “I'll be there for you” one is okay. The magic word “there” means that one would have to be literally with that person. This can be quite impossible at times, especially at those times when one is plotting his/her death.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Conspiring
I've noticed that you haven't been around lately. Should I be worried? Should I take the repeated mentions of conspiracy to the extreme? Should I stop being critical of your work in order to preserve some elongated longevity? Nah, if you're going to kill me anyway, then I might as well be unrepentant and abrasive. You suck. Only a fool would use “s/he” to replace “he/she.” You write choppy English sentences; I've known mentally impaired Pakistani who could write more fluently and incorporate a vividness that attracts better interest. This does not say much, though. I'm packing my bags and leaving town now.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Pwegnuncy
“Some Thoughts on Female Brain Shr inkage”
A scientific study concluded that a female's brain shrinks one eighth of an inch while she is pregnant. This accounts for the loss of memory that often plagues pregnancy. It may also explain the impregnated's desire to masticate on certain bizarre combinations of edibles whilst pregnant.
My question is, does the brain shrink a quarter inch when twins are carried and threeeighths for triplets? Or is it only an eighth of an inch in total despite the number of babies one mayst have?
If it is an eighth per child, I feel sorrow immense for the lady who had those octuplets a few years back. Gosh! That is a full inch of her brain she lost. Perhaps suffragists were aware of this long ago, and the movement developed from a desire to quit bearing litters and actually utilize the brain.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: I won't ask , although you've told.
Are you certain this is factual? I'm not sure how that would work. But then science, like many formulas and postulates in mathematics, is something to be taken for granted unquestionably.
Should she who bore octuplets have lost a full inch, it is quite lamentable. After all, women have never been known to have large brains or intelligence, unless, of course, they are horrid of appearance. In those cases the resources intended for the body seem to have been diverted to the mind, much to the sorrow of we males. But, should my theory that beauty is derived from shrunken minds prove correct suffragists must have never had offspring. For, it is quite apparent from portraits that the gracing beauty of pregnancy never visited. Indeed, no form of gorgeousness seemed to have.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Topographics and elevation
“Just Because You're Out of the Valley Doesn 't Mean the Hil l or Mountain Is That Great”
Case in point. A lonely insomniac after years of his disease, finally gets cured. However, he immediately turns into a narcoleptic. This is a great change of events, eh? While one mayst think it
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natural for his/her body to desire to catch up on sleep, especially REM, does one think that s/he thinks it fit and proper to pass out while placing clothes into or removing such from a washer/dryer? How wonderful would be the purchase of a new freezer intended to keep the ice cream solid, only to have it frozen unscoopably?
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Rendering ice cream unscoopable
This seems as if it were a work of your infancy, which is not to say that you have improved much. You can do much better! Should you try to prove a point, then valid evidence through specific examples or truths is quite handy. I also think you should change “narcoleptic” to something more intense and expressive of sleepdeprivation, such as “student.” I notice that you've used “s/he.” I knew you'd fall for that trap! By the way, you've never fallen asleep in the washing machine have you?
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Genetico
“Mothers Know Because of Chromosomes”
Does not it seem odd how a mother can tell when one pilfers a cookie? What supernal phenomenon allows for such heightened abilities? There can only be one plausible explanation of an answer. Mother's intuition? I think not. Unless, of course, a mother's intuition is derived from chromosomes. After all, we are half our mother, and that would explain the link that seems to betray us.
“Genetics”
Some people think that God gives mankind the technology to do what it needs. Flight, for example, was a feat of technology made available to the lowly insane by God. Well, the human species has not been weeding out the weaker genes [if you believe not this visit the South.] According to evolution, if a society does not filter out the weaker members, or, as we humans oft' do, it pampers and encourages these defects, then it will perish. I, personally, take some issues with evolution, but the thought did occur that God could have given this race genetics to eliminate weaklings, not by natural selection, but by fixing or blocking the bad genes, and such. Perhaps more than just the iceberg's tip was exposed with this thought.
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“Extinction”
Any creature that practices sexual reproduction seems to develop weaklings over time. If these reproduce, defects can be preserved and mutated through the generations. Dinosaurs evolved for millions of years, while humans have only been here a few thousand. If humans can produce such sicklings as seen today in that relatively small quantity of time, what did the dinosaurs produce after millions of years? The answer: extinction.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Where should I begin
Not to be uncreative, but perhaps you, the child I mean, are a sloppy thief. That, and surveillance cameras, would be probable explanations for the maternal allegations of petty larceny. Do not me misperceive, I do like this one. Wouldn't it truly be odd if mothers were in tune with the silent hum of their half of our DNA?
I see that you were in a genetic mood when you wrote these. Thoughtful, at times, “Extinction” left me wanting more resolution and conclusion. By “a few thousand years” do you refer to biblical genealogies and not the silly scientific dates by scientists prescribed?
The opening of “Genetics” is disturbingly inaccurate; no one thinks anymore. Also, I would advise not knocking the South, for we do live here. Someone might grow perturbed, and no one wants that. There's nothing quite as disturbing as drunkards cruising in claydrenched trucks with mounted flashhunting lights, numerous gun racks, and antlers who scream beoathed mutterances sans intelligence or any form of enunciation whilst wielding the firearms they were raised with. Besides Women's Lib, of course.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Bastille Day
“Is Nature Alive”
Is nature alive and living well in its own strange ways? Or is it just the mind's eye that perceives nature as unfamiliar when the psyche is relinquished of its control of perception and description? Nature is alive, but it does appear strange unless a person in opened up and unhindered by the
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Bastille174 of Reason. Indeed, a great many things are not registered because such are obscured and glossed over by the obstructing processes of censoring minds.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Right
I'm not exactly sure what to make of this, to be somewhat honest. I had entered this fully expecting some reference to July 19, 1789. Instead, I found circumstantial complaints which could possibly be sued in a Supreme Court case in which the mind is prosecuted for violating the First Amendment. But how would the brain be prosecuted for censoring, thinks me? Is this the continuation of the semiphilosophy that you seem to express in unconnected and inconclusive statements of short length? For what it's worth, it should be longer and pertain more to the comprehensible reality's expression by including examples and other such elements. This would smooth the jaggedness that could prove harmful to the reader's fragile interest and intention. As of now, the response is more verbose than the stimulus. But that's intended not to be negative or express any patronizing affections for you and your abilities; you know I could never compare with thy creativity and expression. That is after all, why I am simply an editor.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Endos
“The Appropr iateness of Hymen”
Hymen is the Greek God of Marriage. How appropriate that is. One would almost think the Greeks were cynical or smart in some manner, for, when one marries, an offering of consummation is made upon the altars of Hymen.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: On dope?
Pointed, sexual, and satirical are three words to describe this brief thought. Should I elaborate further or merely make the point that perhaps certain aspects were appointed with labels after the
174 Bastille: a Parisian prison that was stormed and marks the symbolic beginning of the French Revolutions. The implication is that, though the workings and ruts of the mind may seem imposing, these are conquerable, especially in times of frantic confusion and orderless destruction.
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figures from Greek mythology. At the present, I am not referring to constellations.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Bloodsucking punk
“On Vampires”
The world and culture of American vampires is sadly lacking a future: there are no children. How can a society survive without the brats who will be misled and erroneous in decisions, just as with each destructive generation before it?
There being a dearth of youth, vampires must be imported, as great music and beverages, after they have come of age. This does not allow for the mixing/tossing process that other cultures have had. Instead, it results in prejudice at both ends of the spectrum. Unnecessary violence, bloodshed, and sucking has plagued the relationship of misunderstanding ever.
But, should the kids have aged into adulthood as companions, Hebrew with Slav with French with American with Basque with Vampire, etc., then the communion of friendship would develop. But this respect and understanding is never to be. What's to blame for this outrage? Why, nothing more than mandatory education laws. It is sheer death for a vampire to be out in sunlight. But maybe this insensitivity will end, and the Supreme Court will make an allowance for vampires, as for the Amish.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: If they existed. . .
This would be truly saddening, if vampires were not bloodsucking punks. That comment, “bloodsucking punk ,” I initially felt was directed towards me, the critic. But I'm certain that that cannot be now. By the phrase “as for the Amish,” I suppose you are alluding to the Supreme Court ruling that lets Mennonite children exit school at eighth grade and tend to farms due to religious/cultural beliefs and the pursuit of purity. If that is the case, and, since vampires could possibly be said to be practicing a religion, then I am all for separation of mortals and immortals. But, then again, I do not believe in vampires, only ghosts and aliens. I'm going to get a V8 Splash; send me more at will.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Drunkards and potatoes
“Why the Ir ish Fight”
Many Irish are fieryheaded. Like many other redheaded chaps, the blokes have an heated temper. Eager to fight because of hair coloration, they have earned the name the “Fighting Irish.” Yet, it is more such as their red hair has caused them to frequent the pubs. Following the example set by others, an attempt is made to drown sorrows, which in this case are over crimson hair, in ale. When minds have been courting alcohol, the Irish, or anyone for that matter, are more prone to fight. Ergo, hair pigmentation causes them to fight not only when sobre, which is hopefully not often, but also when they aren't.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Hail the Brogue!
You do know that potatoes came from this New World, and not Ireland? The Irish only became dependent upon tubers to such a degree that, when famine occurred in the mid1800s, they had to flee to America to get a decent stock of them. I do not think many returned home to Erin; the potatoes must have been too heavy to lug back on a drunken swim. Oh, yes, stereotypes concerning hair color, drunkenness, and temper might be considered offensive, even if earnestly intended to be in jest.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: The vernacular balances
“Misunderstandings Expand the Vocabulary”
Misunderstandings and miscommunications are the cause of an expansive vocabulary, for people and entire languages. Perhaps the most obvious example of this is the advent of curse words into vocabularies. There is always a misunderstanding involved, even if one only observes or hears the misunderstanding. Then, when a miscommunication occurs, people [may curse] try to relate ideas in a different manner for clarity's sake, and thus new words are often absorbed.
Then, there are people whose sole intention, or at least one of their many such sole intentions, is
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to miscommunicate in order to disguise covertly in a hidden fashion thought. In this way new words are created. People often do not fully and utterly comprehend one another, and these misunderstandings can lead to cultural clashes wherein one culture will assay to become supreme over the other. Should this occur, words and phrases will be swapped and created. Curiosity and interest, and the resulting intermingling, will also lead to the formation and exchange of words.
Ultimately, there is love. Love is a misunderstanding, a miscommunication that one can never truly express. Love has festered at the root of multitudes of dark misunderstandings and miscommunications, as well. It is the word that keeps giving, judging from the number of words that can be attributed to it. These futile explanations originated via wars and other misunderstandings, as well as from the attempts to express love, a miscommunication which has spawned sheer amounts of synonyms, etc.
Miscommunications themselves are, ultimately, in the end, when all is said and done, a misunderstanding.
“Balances of New Ideas”
As long as the world never becomes dull and stagnant, then never will there be a shortage of new ideas. The new ideas will ensure that the world never grows stagnantly dull.
Nature is chaos by nature, and to wax dull and stagnant would be to enforce order upon world. Chaos forced into order is dangerously unstable, like the confused and gullible teenage mind. The instability will inevitably emit bursts and snaps of chaos, a radiation to keep stagnation from the complete destruction of newness. These newnesses will take the form of a random event or thought—an epiphany. The thought or event will lead to new ideas—inventions, songs, stories, poetry.
These ideas are expressions, or personal and personally twisted reactions to events or thoughts. These inventions, songs, stories, and poems will become events and thoughts. These, in turn, will shape perceptions and cause others to forge their own personal views and beliefs, which will then be perverted by the character of experience [events.] The slowly expanding ripples without fail will have less magnitude as more and more twist the original meaning, as well as because some people shall find the expanding ranges of thought too radically extreme. The key to keeping the chaos and new ideas alive is to change accepted ideas by proving them faulty or adapting them.
Nonconformity is chaos; chaos changes the unstable order; and order fears change. It's completely against the rules and systems of order. Nonconformity must exist to balance the standards that destroy creativity.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Nonconformity is the key to originality
At least they were well thought, if simple enough. You seemed to be bored witless during their fell spawning. Were these the products of a math class? It looks to be trig ennuí175 to me. I delighted in the excessive measures used in “Balance” to justify what could have been expressed in my subject line. At least you assayed some support this time. In “Misunderstanding” your rationale lacked truly specific examples. I kept thinking “kids on a playground,” “your deliberately confusing writing,” “the conquest of England in 1066,” and, well, love needs no examples. The Eskimos have scores of words to express it and its different shades.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Innocence
“Innocence to Cor ruption to Mindset”
A person's views, supported by knowledge, are innocence, even though these may be wisdom. Innocence will one day face the corruption of others' innocence or wisdom, should the expression of the corruption be listened to by one in that exhausted state of being slightly unsure of thought, belief, and action.
With luck , the individual will develop a firm belief, or a mindset, after judging the arguments and sentiments attached. Sadly as an elegiac tone, many live without ever creating true and personal mindsets. These senseless and oft' codependent allow their innocence to be passed through cycles with each close person's utterance of thought.
Innocence Left Unattended
Innocence left unattended leads to chaos. At first, civilization tends to take root. But in the face of an inevitable fear, civilization loses power. The raw passion, emotion, and desires sparked and augmented by the fear greatly renders civilization powerless, though this occurs gradually, subconsciously, and irrationally. The wild passion will destroy any sense or religion. After religion has vanished, intelligence attempts to stay for a while longer. Yet it will be slain, and with it civilization shall inevitably perish.
175 ennuí: boredom
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Naïveté
A smarter man than I would have ignored the theme and asked how you fared, and if all of your systems were functioning properly. But unintelligent am I. Innocence, like order, seems to be a fixation of yours. It is only natural, as you are in your burgeoning years of creative development. These both seem to use the obvious to state something you feel. The former eventually slams the codependent and stupid. Could this be an attack on friends who've disappointed?
From the latter I've gleaned not only the theme of Lord of the Flies, but also a statement on America. We were unattended with benign neglect, and war ensued. Some aristocracy was had for a while, but the attempts proved in vain. Could this land truly be called refined with its prostitution, murder, alcoholism, drug addiction, lack of respect and manners, subglobally par education, football, and fast food restaurants? Prejudice and other such petty fears, as well as greed, have slowly etched with speed this society. The Civil War, Civil Rights, slavery, the Asian Exclusion Act, and multifaceted Miami all prove the former.
Support for the latter, greed, is bolstered by William Randolph Hearst's creation of the SpanishAmerican War via yellow journalism, the corruption of railroad builders, and those who would corner the Stock Market, etc. America is the great land of passion—not in bed—but of fauxissues. Taxation in the Revolutionary Days was laughably misconstrued as harsh and unfair; England was fought over it. The desire for legalities and loopholes excluded religion from its normal governmental role. One cannot expect religion to survive in the hands of mortals; perhaps the lack of a national religion was an attempt at atheism. Thinkers are still occasionally bred, but artists and creators alike almost always perish young due to the messages of our society. Eventually, the experiment of the Founding Father's clique will fail, for those departed dead were the great thinkers.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Nuclear
“A New Brave World”
In the beginning, there was chaos. Then, order seeped through the cracks and crevices. Order and chaos combated for years, until order eventually achieved victory. Chaos was hunted down, and its mother, Nature, was tortured and destroyed.
Order could not last forever. Indeed, the more order it tried to enforce, the more unstable it became. Soon, the world was at war over nothing, over everything, over order. Order tried orderly weapons; the most orderly were fusion and fission. So orderly were they that their instability made
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radiation inevitable. After radiating itself thoroughly, order was fairly well wiped out.In the ashes of civilization were left radiated idiots. In a world of decay, these mindlessly
chaotic followers adapted. They formed loosely organized bands and hunted the toxic creatures; they gathered their radioactive flora. The primitive and natural tribal system of squaws and braves guided by a chief they followed. They existed not because of order, but because of chaos. Chaos was “[their] way, [their] truth, and [their] life.” Free of order, they formed a new, brave world.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Sounds familiar, though not quite
You should definitely expand upon this and prevent others from thinking you a complete Huxley ripff. Oh yes, I must stress this, you need more simple sentences. They are the only methods of conveying profoundly conjuncted thought.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Donne's wrong
“Men Should Be Islands”
It were better if a man were an island. As such, he could never hurt anyone or be scorned. Rejection amiss, he'd have nothing but loneliness and radical ideas to populate the hours. Doesn't this seem worth losing the joys of an occasional moment in a special someone's company?
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Ripoff
In response to your question, go get laid. I would be intrigued to know what is occurring in your socially personal life. I have a small inkling that you read John Donne recently. You seem to have been imitating [flattering] others a lot lately.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Communism
“Humans Are Not Made to Be Alone”
Humans have evolved into a social group. We form friendships, collaborate, and gossip. Important decisions are made in groups, and we care for each other as family units.
It seems we are never really alone. This is probably a good thing, despite the wishes of those who hail from larger families and desire lonely solitude for thought. When alone, one thinks, and thinking will undermine the whole human race, as pensive athletes are far more dull than exciting. If one is alone for too great a period, ideas become quite radical and eventually evolve into the higher thoughts of lunacy. Though lovable, usable, and prevalent, no one needs another crazy person, expect for the few remaining asylums. Ergo, humans are not made to be alone.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Capitalism
That is an interesting social observation you have made. I will say no more.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Yellow things
“Banana Republic”
Imagine a banana: perfection. However, the peel is a facade adept at deftly disguising the strings of life. The core may once have been decently good, yet it has been layered subtly with deceptive asphyxiators.
Imagine what would chance if bananas governed. Fat, ripe bananas would sneeringly peer down from the tree's hierarchical heights at the other bananas. Difficult to access due to height's power, they'd thoughtlessly suffer those of the lower branches to suffer. In each would be the same core, good fruit since the beginnings. Yet the puppet strings and motives would be masked by a generalized peel.
Imagine what a republic should be as if of, by, and for bananas. It would be a republic where strings are even attached to “free.” A cold land emotionally would be created, as bananas possess no heart, only a core. A utopia wherein the whole is as pure as the mixed motives anchored by the sub
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tle strings would this prove to be. A banana may be plucked there, yet another shall fill its hole and position with little upset, uproar, or care.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: America, America, God shed...
Was this allegorical? Do you dislike bananas?
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Another read
“Conscience”
Were I King Claudius, Hamlet surely would have mortally smitten me by now. “The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king” spake he, and my conscience is caught during the week seven days, and not only is it captured by plays.
I am weak , a sinner, and human. Weaker than most at that—I have no backbone and am overrun by others. During the perusal of volumes, whether at home or with scholars, biting remarks sting mine guilty conscience. The visage momentarily suffers a pallid and pained snap, and returns to the brooding mask of calm that hides my trespasses. In the brooding find I a more harsh punishment of selfjudgment, a gnawing pensiveness and relentless pestilence that feeds even in the night.
I must wonder if the writers put the words there to bite. If they did, they do. Surely am I given away to some who know me better. If I were to disclose my conscience's capture, I would feel better; it matters not what others think. Death is a welcome embrace to run to after a lonely existence of imposthumous guilt.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: How do I break this?
No one cares about feelings anymore. Romanticism is dead, and this piece does not look that great either. Indeed, it's not even good romance, if such could possibly exist. Don't bother. My, that was easy.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Mirrors
“Reflections upon My Shr inking World”
In a world small enough as it is, there is no room for that which would decrease spaciousness and densify. True, compression can be had, yet it enforces order. Order builds up the pressure of chaos. Eventually implosion is inevitable. like the bang of supernova, all shall be released; what was reduced to nothingness and only heat left.
How can two masters serve another, feudalism's no more? How can one master be supreme over quarreling factions? Space is the stuff nightmares consist of, and it is never empty.
My bubbled world was filled with continual shrinking under the pressures of loathing. There is no more room for aught else, lest some laws of physics be broken.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: I thought I broke it?
Charming, if this was elaborated upon further, slightly less cryptic, and neglecting of the depressing, then it would be better. Stop. Writing as a telegram. Stop. You do not make a good or enthralling romantic. Stop!
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Happiness
"Death"
Death is not something one can or is supposed to reconcile. Instead, one is expected by the forces of pressure to accept the simple finality and assay to forget it whilst developing and moving on. If one continues dwelling upon the event, spidering intellect and sympathies for why and how, wishing adamantly, and pondering over the unpreventable's prevention; then one only hurts oneself and ruins one's life.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: One last time. . .
Short and somewhat to the point, it seems you are drifting into a set pattern of tone. This next is an attempt to sway you somewhat to a side and out of this rut. Take the hint. Write no more of this tripe. With the exception of your work , Romanticism is the most revolting era of the arts. I would burn these last few works to prevent it having a rival. Some things are just better left alone. The rebuttal follows.
"Death, Part 2: Processed Meat"
It is actually the unmentionable stuff inside of hotdogs and processed meat that makes them delectably tasty. The fact that one's brushing with death at each bite is quite exhilarating.
There, now that wasn't terribly difficult or long, was it?
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: The tube
"Television"
Society ever looks for a scapegoat to pin the troubles of today upon, as it hasn't the courage to see the root of the maladies. Such a scapegoat has the television become. People see the violence and profanity through that mystical black tube, and, yet, though worse is heard and sometimes done in the individual homes, the television is the evil corrupter, especially of teens. For that which does not occur in the home, the said violence represents what should not be committed. It teaches not to kill or maim, etc., in a subtly underappreciated way. Truly, television has had a positive influence on teenagers as it is educational, keeps them out of trouble, and is misused due to a poor family unit.
All is educational, in some manner, if only we choose to attentively heed it. Indeed, one is constantly learning, even should one fail to realize the fact, or that knowledge is power and should be greatly sought after. The television is one of the most holistic and easily accessible mediums for learning. To remove television would not remove the blemish of strife and violence marring our society, but only impose ignorance. Ignorance only ensures the continuity of the turmoil and contradicts the Lord's will to "be not ignorant."
This black box of demons actually keeps teenagers out of trouble, believe it or not. While educating the teenage world, it steals its attention. If thus engrossed, adolescents cannot rob a store or slay someone. Aye, 'tis the benefit of being a couch potato. This is one of the major reasons TV is an
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effective medium: it enthralls and still teaches valuable lessons on life.Knowledge can be used beneficially or detrimentally to humanity; it depends upon the person.
This person is shaped by his/her family. The family is the most important aspect of lives; it teaches from birth and, to a large extent, shapes character. Therefore the misuse of knowledge gained from the tele is due to poor family units. "Poor" does not single out povertystricken families. Marry, a poor family unit may be quite wealthy monetarily, as far as possessions are concerned. But if the attitudes alienate and horrid examples and standards are set, then it is quite poor indeed. Besides, if parents truly are worried about what their children view, there are means by which it can be blocked, filtered, or canceled, should subscriptions be involved. But this would just hinder the flow of the river of knowledge.
Society loves to pin the blame on the donkey, which is, in this case, the television. It is wrongfully in err in this action, for the television is an excellent faucet to tap into the well of knowledge. Another important facet is that it harbors teenagers from trouble. The "negative effects" of television are honestly not the television's fault, but those of the family unit. Families make the person—even the television producers. Ergo, the television has only positive effects and the chiefest of them is knowledge; without knowledge the decisions of tomorrow cannot be made and survival would become something of a chore.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Ergo
This sounds as if it has been written somewhere before. Initially, I thought this was to be about tube socks. Sadly and sorely disappointed, I battered my intellect with an unprovoked defense of television. I could see if it concerned video games; violence is great. Ask the makers of Kingpin176.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Why can't we?
"Fr iendship"
If a friendship is a commodity exceeding valuable, why is one presented with the possibility to misplace one over an abstract sum of money, which only symbolically possesses worth? Volumes concerning the former friend's esteemed worth can thereby be deduced. Perhaps it is but the sinful human nature in humans to be more blindingly concerned with wealth and other worldly things. Regardless, anyone who centers existence around money has no friends to lose other than dead Pres
176 Kingpin: a lovely first person slaughter sim banned in something like 27 countries. Woohoo!
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idents. Those who have lost friends over monetary issues, consider the money and then the former friend's face. Then, ponder over which smiles more often and has committed more grievously embarrassing things.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Well,
You've obviously grown up in a small town; friendship is an afterthought, an amusing one at that, in large, impersonal cities. Money is the prevalent concern. Your thought became more relevant with friendship's description as a commodity; more people should be able to relate, until, of course, you mention it being misplaced. Friendship can only be lost, as is said in the trite diction of clichés, or brutally severed. Inform the wealthy that money only symbolically has value and mark the uproarious reactions. A simple instruction to ponder money versus camaraderie will achieve little, for money will ultimately reign supreme on this plane.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Sorrow
"Beggars Are Choosers "
Beggars are choosers, despite what the popular adage may state. They choose in which direction paths are trodden and blazed. They choose what is by others seen, and, therefore, what is seen not. They choose the way to induce feelings of guilty discomfit.
Away from or by them, the more fortunate generally tend to walk , often in hopes to avoid them completely. These betters tend to mark them not and completely ignore. Regardless, those shall ever feel uncomfortable. If aid is given, uneasiness stems from the knowledge of the minuscule amount of help that can be personally donated and accomplished. If ignored, then discomfiture arises from the guilt of selective sight.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Blasting
I cannot blast at the moment, I'll be sure to later, when I am sure of what approach to take. I could play the part of the beggar and be offended, or I could seem to be a business man. I'd not know of what you babbled on about. I could assume a Rockefellertype attitude and state that the
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poor are impoverished due to their own devices, but I fully realize that every human requires help at some point. Have not you heard of Habitat for Humanity? Such a group only goes to prove your statement of how a person can do little to be incorrect. Grab a hammer and stop typing me memos. Do something constructive for others.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Disease
"Infect ion"
Families seem to view friends, especially those of romantic completion's nature177, through the eyes of the human immune system. Nonmembers of the immediate family are foreign bodies, and are, therefore, dangerous entities to be observed coldly until such a time when these infections must be destroyed. God forbid that actual happiness should be found with a stranger! Family secrets might be disclosed, etc. Not kith and kin, the appendages of affection must be destroyed as painfully as stupidly possibly.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Disease
It's nice to see that you've used the cliché kith and kin at least once. Every good writer does. What every good writer does not do so bluntly is attack the entire possible audience; some employ satire. Should teens appreciate this presently, it would be an annoyance when, as parents, the same are forced to separate passionately deceivable youth. You should fully have appreciated this truth had ye been laden with a litter and a score older, for it is sometimes in the best interests of the offspring to be single. Potential futures have become just that, only possibilities due to hotheaded youthful decisions.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Drug War
"Just Say No"
"Just Say No." Why? What is the personal benefit? Why wear the red badge of a hypocritical
177 Those of. . . nature: romantic interests
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public's outcry, the mark of what is in essence a religion? For, what is a religion but a set of governing beliefs for which to be discriminated against and to form biases 'gainst arbitrary evils? In this case, drugs are the evil, and a few would to make others believe through the media's propaganda of conversion.
Why pledge and swear and be represented in allegiance to that dogma, when people's views and decisions vacillate as alternating current or within their minds is the truth submerged? Hypocrisy is horrid, and to take a stand currently is to possibly later commit this sin.
Furthermore, some are destined to do them, to make mistakes. If it were not for these people, personal enmity and distaste would not be aroused. No examples could be given at gatherings, and commercials might become happier advertisements without the witnessing of the dead. Humans would not learn to hate things without those who err. Many learn a greater amount from mistakes than from formal education, thus Americans would be even less intelligent178. Some people just have to be screw ups. Some people just have to be the ones who won't say no.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Silence
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Heroics
"No More Heroes"
To understand why I proclaim there are no more heroes, one must be quite aware of what "hero" means to me. A hero practices what he preaches, has high moral values, and above all, knows when to give up and quit. It is almost impossible to find someone who is the practitioner of that which he urges; the few who are are mainly thugs who advocate and abuse gratuitous sex, drugs, and alcohol. But, lacking moral standards, these noble sapiens cannot be heroes. Plentiful multitudes have high moral standards in oral performance, if naught else. Yet these either do not practice these ethical guardian guidelines or fail to practice a nonmoral object of promulgation or preaching. Those remaining innocents experience the heroical holocaust by failing to acknowledge the necessity of death's admission.
It is lamentable that the world has sunken thus low. It is now an existence when the population of trueblue 3/3 heroes has been decimated, even 2/3 heroes are scarcely found, and 1/3 heroes abound. It is quite reminiscent of Twain's comment in a novel concerning a lynch mob and how no
178 Americans. . . intelligent: other countries have out done us in education, and we are by far the biggest pill popping nation
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"full man" was present. It was, at best, a large collection of cowardly halfmen.MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Holocaustic
Mark Twain would have said that he too was a cynic. I think instead it was you who have sunken, not the world, for many always claim it's gotten worse than it once was. This is far from true, only rosecoloured memories. By the way, leave thugs alone; they are people, too!
Now that I have read your irrational discourse on heroism, please feel free to peruse mine own. I rather enjoyed turning Linus Torvalds179 into a Christ figure, as ye shall shortly see.
INSERT HERO ESSAY HERE
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Predictions
"The Future Is Escape and Death"
The future is the rest of our lives, a time of uncertain length and pain. This is spent endeavoring to escape reality, duty, and what we care not to see and feel. When running the race of escape, the finish line is death. Death is the termination of us all, and it is in everyone's future. Remarkably some perish more than others.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Bad forecast
Perish as in the last line means spiritual and emotional death, no? What possessed you to write such a depressingly fatalistic selection, for your last submission? "No More Heroes" was charming and wittily uplifting.
179 Linus Torvalds: Finnish demigod who created the Linux kernel
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Lies
"Truth Is the Worst Sin"
Truth is the worst sin. Its painful effrontery has hurt more people than gently sparing lies. The simple truth of the matter is that truth is blunt. The lies do not pain feelings and emotions until the truth returns as unjustly as the prodigal son. If everyone knew the truth, the world would be a glummer and less imaginative place, what with no need to fabricate lies.
No one can take excessive truth; even the Puritans deluded themselves. For this reason, it should be ignored, as truth can "push someone over the edge." Despair is a sudden realization of truth, and truth is the murder of spirit and mind. It steals the calm assurance lies extended, which needed not disappear. It covets the lies of our neighbor. Honouring thy father and thy mother waxes difficult when the truth is exposed, and with it flaws, sins, and imperfections. In termination, if one is to treat others how one desires them to treat us, then truth utterly violates the golden rule.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: As you suggest
A wonderful praise of lies. Or is it? What would you have me make you believe? If ye seek praise for this work , then, of course, that is what it deserves. As I read this, it became visibly apparent that I do not believe that we attend the same church. I would invite you into my salvation, but then you might only seek to destroy the temple with praise and lies. As well, though I am most assuredly not a Puritan, I rather hope that your argument of deception resides not solely upon Anne Hutchinson. It does contain even more concrete logic behind it such as their being members of humanity, no? I did enjoy the final statement, but only for its use of "in termination" as opposed to "in conclusion," and the implication that humans would prefer to be lied to.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Gophers
"Why a Trapped Animal Is the Most Deadly "
A trapped animal has had to realize that it may very likely perish. Once anything has reached this point, it becomes less worried with itself. Why should it be? The whole object then becomes to
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injure the trapper and hopefully incapacitate it. If luck is with the trappee, it may slay the trapper and continue with its instinctual life. A trapped animal's deadliness originates from the loss of pride and humiliation's fear, the very things that keep many in check nowadays.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Rattlers
Ah, but this is not so. My fashion sense keeps me in check , nowadays. Should my thin fabrics of ornate senselessness be considered garish, loud, or clashing, then I might just die.
Should this have been about humans, it would have been titled "Why a Trapped Human Is the Weakest." This is not to say that a weakness resulted in the snare, for it is often circumstance which plots and betrays. It is merely a comment on the suicidal tendencies and the foolish inclination to capitulate to demands in negotiation situations.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Sup, my brotha?
"Which Murder Is More Unnatural? "
Unnatural Murder—to kill a family member.Despite the unnaturalness of this sort of heinous action, patri, matri, sui, and fratricide oc
cur too often enough. It seems that a more rare and obscene murder is through love. The physical shrouds of flesh mayst be preserved when obliterating someone's spirit and being in the name of love. Would it not be deemed more unnatural to achieve the reverse effect of desires and affection? It indeed happens, and this murder is more painful and effects more suffering than a mere swift stroke. After this murder—an annihilation of spirit and mind—will the victim effectively survive life or the hereafter? It is more unnatural to destroy through love.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Not much homedawg
So, what you're trying to say here is that it is more unnatural to destroy through love? Animals love to eat and kill through that affection. Do not some dams of rodent species, etc., become cannibals upon bearing the first litter? Do you not think that some carnivores enjoy eating? A lioness must butcher to eat.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Percentages
"50% of the Right Choices"
Is there anyone extant, or has there ever been, who can boast that one has made seventyfive or even fifty percent of the right choices in one's life? A personal question this may be, but the answer is undoubtedly no. Fifty percent of all the choices one has ever made can scarcely be attainable. Current divorce rates exemplify this. The statistic that everyone will be in at least four car crashes in life points to the fallacious decisions of drivers. Then, Christmas shopping, juries, and the mechanics of language must be tallied and considered. Choosing to misspell words, even subconsciously, is a decision. The placement, diction, and usage are also decision. It seems that with all the mudslinging of politicians that they have made even fewer correct decisions than most.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Ratios
But if the right decisions were always made, no knowledge would be attained. People learn through mistakes, as well as become entertained via home videos and political mudslinging. This was previously discussed in the "Just Say No?" section, no? Would you really desire a perfect society? That would require order in grammar, law, and behavior, and, based upon your "Balance of New Ideas," this would destroy the creation of new ideas. Knowing you, jealousy at one for being your superior in language, etc., would develop. By the way, I just paid you a great compliment. Not only did I remember your work , but I also referenced it.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Innocent bondage
"The Once and Future Innocence"
Man is innocent at birth. He lets others care for him. Indeed, he has no choice in the matter. Then, the responsibilities of selfmaintenance is he forced, or at least expected, to assume. It is at this moment he loses innocence. A life of turmoil and confusion ensues, and, at the end, man must be attended by others, again. The innocence returns and sometimes ushers in a mental innocence.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Caustic
Would you write something as deep and vexing at an old and venerable age? Will you keep this to pore over and torment yourself with when aged? I know as a babe you couldn't. Innocence has its merits.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Pride
"Relig ious Prejudice"
Religions instill prejudice. Despite commandments not to judge others, and such, it occurs. Some of the most devout people are some of the most prejudiced.
History proves this point. Throughout the history of the Catholic church, "heretics" and other religions have been persecuted. It was just not healthy to be a Jew or Muslim during the Inquisition. The Islamic church felt superior to the infidels of other faiths, and even if one would fain argue that Muslims are, the point is that such is prejudice. The Hebrews, while carving out their own share of Canaan, were ordered not to mix with those other peoples in that land and to kill them all. Depending upon interpretation, this might be considered biased or slanted. Even today in Northern Ireland, Catholics and Protestants lose their lives because of the hatred between religions. This also occurs between the Jews and Palestinians. Frequently.
In personal experience, this has held true as well. Once I, like a handful of my friends, was extremely prejudiced by association, for no tangible reason. This resulted in me missing out on some really great music, not because of the work itself, but because it was esteemed taboo by the Christian churches, or at least those in the locale. The Pumpkins actually made good music, but the songs were sung by someone other than Veggie Tales. These same people that will not expand their musical tastes are the same ones that frequently glance over a person, judge them, refuse, outside of gossip, to acknowledge the possibility of their existence, and remain unwilling to, if not befriend, acquaint that person and his mind.
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MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Jane Austin
Personal issues aside, everyone judges, even should one not be aware of it. I'd like to warn you that this could step upon toes, faiths, and friendships. But, with its slim odds of being read, it probably won't.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Hezbollah
"Terror ism"
Modern religion is terrorism. One isn't inspired to attain heavenly salvation or to desire to praise Him, so much as to avoid going to the other place. The Bible tells significantly more about that Hell than it does about that City. It dwells upon the woeful outcome of sinners and the great gnashing of teeth. Revivals and religious events almost always end with some comment stating, "Repent sinners, for you could be riding home in thirty minutes, partake in an accident, and go straight to Hell!" One is more or less frightened into salvation and not led to the glory for the proper purpose, which is Love.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Perpetuity
A definite accompaniment to "Religious Prejudice," this is quite complementary and thoughtful. Don't expect anything to change, though. Should this happen, do not believe the lie. I would not blame the churches, but only human nature. Well is it known that we are guided and directed by fear and greed, not love. If inspiration was sought, then more classics and poetry would be read and far fewer trashy romance novels. It is, after all, called harlequin—the name of a fool or buffoon—for good reason.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Cosine, tangent
"The Joys of Sin"
Sex is a sin and great evil; there will be none in heaven. When Adam and Eve were yet pure, God shielded them from thus. After the fruit fiasco, He punished them in many ways, and sex was one of them. Many of the "pleasures" of this earth are no more than a punishment meted out by God as the retribution of life. Should humans experience the lust and greed and fame which are taken for granted to be the pillars of earthly civilization, then mortals will appreciate the subservient poverty and insignificance Heaven promises.
But, though God would punish us with sin, he would not turn us loose to its anarchy sans repercussions. If one can do without, then one is much better for this abstinence.; for it breeds character. Sex is the perfect example of this. Adam and Eve were protected from it by innocence, as all are, initially. With the loss of innocence, it became a punishment. As sex evolved into a taboo splendour, the punishment required its own punishment. Pregnancy served as the protection against unwed trespass, for it was telling. Humanity countered this with forms of birth control. God would not be toyed with and plagued the wretched with disease; one should not sin sans punishment. As we humans cure disease after disease, the question now becomes "As what will the next divine pregnancy prevention scheme manifest?"
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Cosecant
Right. I think , perhaps, God will make people read the things you've written. When humanity is dead of suicide, then He wont' have to worry about pregnancy and sin.
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Slips
"Cult "
A lack of faith could lead to severe doubts in Christianity. In particular, fears such as what if Jesus was not the real Messiah could arise. It would be painful to question whether or not the New Testament was a collection of brainwashing halftruths of a cult led by someone disillusioned who
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would disillusion us all.
"AntiAgnostic"
There must be a god. This is the only explanation for the empty hole in man that nor woman nor beast cannot fill. This gaping pit has resulted in the creation of god(s) for each culture. The hierarchy differs greatly among monotheists and polytheists and animists, but there is always a god.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: Slides
"AntiAgnostic" is a nice recovery for "Cult." I cannot gage how much it might placate the anger at the first one, though. It is, after all, only a statement of the obvious. If you had included something about creation and catastrophe, perhaps it would sway more sentiment. It is not enough to proclaim that every culture has a chieftain entity, this is common knowledge. I suppose you consider atheists subhuman?
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: How beautiful it is
"Think You're In Love"
One always thinks one's in love, but love does not exist. There's a difference between making love and fooling oneself into believing that one possesses an intangible feeling for another person. One thinks that s/he is the only mortal for one, when one really knows that a few months later the feeling that one found and touted as unique, as expressed by the common delusion of an ejaculation, "I've never felt this way about anyone before" will be attached to another person.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: I know
Is this a criticism of teenage idiocy? Is there anyone in particular to whom this is addressed? I'm sensing consternation. Tell me now did you once love me? Was I the object that caused you to fret and feel exuberant? I'll be waiting for no reply.
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MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: Shortness
"Fr iendship: Again"
Perhaps the reason friends are easier to get along with than family is because one does not have to live with a friend's faults and annoyances. One also does not have to get constrained and restrained and trapped by the will and decisions of a friend, as much.
MEMO TO: PheleppiFROM: TeveranceRE: As always
You do realize I'm only satirical, etc., when I have nothing better to say, no?
MEMO TO: TeveranceFROM: PheleppiRE: About the Author
"Huh"
It is my biggest fear that I will leave this world completely misunderstood. True, it may possibly be impossible to understand me to the utmost, yet I may have the power to enlighten some as to who I am more clearly.
I have done many foolish things behind sundry fleeting masks of moments. "There is method in his madness" Shakespeare would say, but then, he's bisexual, and therefore does not count. Ambiguity is what allows me to say and do things, for I choose the underdog meanings and reasonings that few would expect normally, at least in where I was when this was written.
I wonder what I will do when I have driven all my friends away? Make flimsy acquaintances for <pick your type of the six> love? I have frightened aaaaahhh. . .
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Chapter XXVII
Lewd Reference Dict ionary
Adultery: 1. Acting like a grown up. 2. The national pastime of the French.Ass: 1. A Biblical animal that many people resemble. 2. What is kissed to get ahead in life. 3. A driver that cuts one off.Asshole: 1. A sinkhole that opens up magically to swallow a driver that cuts one off. 2. A pit full of Biblical animals.Asswipe: An often necessary swipe that wipes away lipstick , etc., right before one kisses up.Bitch: 1. A female. 2. The act of being female. 3. What a female does.Bite me: An invitation used by cannibals to show their love for someone.Blow job: The typical occupation of a congressman or other political blowhard.Cat house: Where a woman spends her time after doing a very naughty act that her husband disapproves of; the female version of the doghouse.Chlamydia: The reward for Spring Breakers who played the lottery. Most of them will be disappointed that they did not win, but at least most of them will have something to take home.Damn: The crucial word of the 90s band "The Damn Yankees." Yankees would not be expressive enough by itself.Dick: see penis.Dickhead: One of the lazy sons of bitches that is supposed to debug Microsoft software.Dildo: Slang term for money made by pickle farmers.Dipshit: 1. The gross germs and trash left by people who dip the same snack in dip more than once. 2. A person who does this.Fuck: 1. A Latin dance that stared a craze much in the same way the Barracuda did—everyone is doing it. 2. Every other word in a gansta rap song. 3. Something sick for old people to do.Fucked: 1. Messed up. 2. Used goods. 3. Danced.Fucking nightmare: Someone that it would be scary even to imagine doing the Latin dance with.Fuck you: 1. A polite way of saying "haha," "leave me alone," "go away," or "I'm going to kill you if you don't leave me alone in a second." 2. Constructive means of expressing anger. 3. Phrase that may follow the words "Can I?"Gangbang: a hoedown where the local hoodlums assemble and hit drums and bongos and such repetitively.God dammit: The prayer of many an African people who live in unindustrialized nations and know that the only way for their countries to be able to harness the hydroelectric power of their rivers is for God to do it Himself.Late: When preceded by "I am" a way to scare a male.
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Penis: A passion fruit; it becomes bitter once bitten.Penguin: Black and white flightless bird of Antarctica and portions of Australia, considered the most indecent of all birds.Per iod: 1 Collection of four days that ruin a man's month of happiness. 2. Mark of punctuation that concludes an imperative sentence said by a woman during these four days. 3. What a male does not want a female to miss.Per vert: A measurement of the brain's thoughts. A standard thought is a process. The per vert measurement is a ratio of how many processes occur per every vert—a changed, twisted, and/or corrupted process. The normal ratio is 5 processes per vert (5:1) When the ration becomes 0 processes per every vert (0:1,) then drooling and wet dreams become inevitable.Piss: The sound a snake with a lisp makes.Rimming: The act of prying rims almost completely off of tires so that they will fly off when the car turns.Safe sex: Judging by insurance rates, females, since they pay one third of what males do to drive.Sex: 1. Popular question on applications and test forms. 2. Gender. 3. A drug similar to crack.Sexf iend: A person addicted to the drug sex.Shit: The most evil being in the galaxy who causes one to scream his name in fear or apprehension when seen. To his devout followers, he is known as "Holy" and is sometimes revered with the word "O."Shithead: Collective term with negative connotations for the followers of Shit. Used in much the same manner as "skinhead."Sodomy: The branch of Geology that specializes in sod, or dirt.Son of a bitch: Taken logically, a bitch is a female, thus her son is a male.
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Some Reasons I Like Computers More Than the People That Operate Them
1. I actually understand computers <unlike humans—especially women.> What I do not comprehend I know has a tangible explanation.
2. Computers do not demand my time; I gladly give it them.3. Computers do not change, unless I change them physically.4. Computers are not bothered with emotions.5. Computers do not care what my hair looks like.6. I can have fun with a computer without risking my health or embarrassment.7. Computers do not require me to tell jokes, dance <without a good cause,> conform to society's barbaric ways <completely voluntary,> or tell secrets. They do not dissemble and are more easily replaceable than friends.
8. Replacing computer parts is remarkably easier and less painful than replacing body parts.9. Taking it fast with computers is always a good idea.10. Computers do not need food; I do not have to share with them.11. Computers beep, which I find to be a lot more polite than burping.12. You can get rid of unwanted things by hitting delete; you just cannot legally do that with humans.
13. They do not ask if they are fat.14. They can be muted.
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The New English Handbook for Starting and Maintaining Your Cult
PURPOSE:Why should you create your cult? There are any number of reasons. Among them are boredom,
fame, and immortalization in bad jokes. Others are to make a difference, hatred of your nine to five job, to be different, and because you can.
NOTE: It is generally not a good idea to form a cult for the purpose of being immortalized in bad jokes.
RELIGION: A key factor in all successful cults is religion. Make sure your group concerns itself with some
dogmatic practices. It is quite popular, and preferred, that you, the leader, take on a Messiahtype role. People (other current cult members) are generally unhappy and confused with religion. The resulting search renders them more open to your ploy, and, as such, your cult will grow and prosper.
NOTE: It is generally accepted that Satanism and AntiChrist roles scare off and provide people with the wrong opinions of your cult.
MEMBERS: Dwell upon the weakminded. These generally happen to be the wealthy youth, as they have
had to face the horrors of the real world not. They are, by rule, gullible, easy to brainwash, and easily controlled. Another niche facet to this segment of society is that they have the wealth that may come in handy for funding your cult.
These weakminded fools also include the "academically impaired." These are easy enough to control. They become excellent servants as well, as they have to live by orders, not thinking. These nonthinkers also tend to remain loyal due to the lack of capacity to think for themselves.
Another way to cultivate members is to select those who have had it rough. They will desire and need someone who understands and cares. Therefore, be there for them, at least at first. Once they believe you honestly care, they are your loyal followers. These hardened followers have the advantages of thought, which will be dedicated to your causes, and realworld experiences which just might ensure the survival of your cult.
NOTE: It is generally a good idea to enlist members from all three groups and to develop a caste system. Let the wealthy ones believe they have power, but put the real power into the hands of those that have had hard lives, to date.
VIOLENCE:
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Try to stay away from excessive violence, as the government will get involved. A flock normally tends to flock to nonviolent outfits. Retain the illusion of pacifism, but, by all means, keep several devoted members who abhor not but revel in violence around in the event that the FBI comes knocking at your bunker.
NOTE: It is generally in your best interest to brainwash your followers into believing that the government must die at all costs, even if you run a "nonviolent" outfit.
SUICIDE:All cults should have a backup plan. This is normally suicide. Worry not with the place you
shall spend the hereafter in, and remember that with your religion you should allay your flock's fears on suicide.
NOTE: Do not give examples on suicide, unless the Federal Government is besieging your bunker.
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Advice for/Dur ing the Wooing of a Woman
Ask her:"Would you like a frontal lobotomy?""What colour are your panties?""If I buy you a clear thong, will you model it for me?""Do you have a problem with cellophane or whip cream?""Does the sight of whips or chains intimidate or frighten you in any way?""Hey, why don't you have breasts like all the other girls?""Do you mind if I bring a friend?""What's your friend's number?""Do you have a sister, in case things with us don't work out?""Is your mother still around?""Would you like to have my twelve children? I mean literally have them. I don't want them anymore. Please?""Are you really only twenty? You look a lot older. . . ""Hypothetically, if I were, I don't know, say fourteen would it still be okay for us to be lying here in bed together? What's five years difference have to do with it? I mean, what would it have to do with it? This is all hypothetical.""Are you sure you're not blonde?""You wouldn't mind cooking and cleaning all the time, would you?""Would you like to move to a nudist colony with me?""You're not any relation to me, are you? Last time, I wound up dating my sister. You know what was even stranger. . . ?""I like those shoes. May I try them on? How about that dress?"
Tell her:"Your eyes are as blue as tanned cataracts.""You have a boyfriend? I can make you forget him.""Kissing you is like getting a frontal lobotomy over and over and over.""I feel a little emasculated by the fact that you have to shave more often than I do.""You're wrong!""Wow, your friend's pretty!""Wow, I wish you looked like that!""I have the strangest rash. . .""Don't worry. I like women who are flat.""Murder isn't a real crime. It's not like I was in for Grand Theft Auto or anything.""Don't worry that you're not smart; all I want is your body."
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"And one time, my exwife cut off Mr. Happy. But after the initial sorrow, he got happy again.""My last wife left me. Something about I hit her too hard or too much or something. I don't know, she was kinda crazy. Like one time she actually wanted me to take her brother off the meat hook in the closet. What a nut case.""I would undress, but you'd probably go running and screaming the other way.""One time, my priest had to perform an exorcism on me. Boy, that was sure fun!""I can speak in tongues. Here, I've got a message for you.""You do more for me in that way than a bucket of KFC extra crispy fried chicken, and, for a Southerner, that's something.""You do more for me than a bean burrito, and you don't give me gas, either!"
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Some Less Than Interesting Thoughts, Musings, and Not so Witty Banter to Ponder or to Spout in Everyday Conversation
"If people did unto others as they would have others do unto them, there would be no telemarketing.""If girls are always falling for the wrong guys, does that make me the right guy for every girl?""It's always helpful to know how ostriches have sex, in case you are one in the next life.""Be nice to men with guns, they may be having a bad day.""The easiest thing to do is to close my eyes and think of nude midgets.""The key to seeing more of each other is nudity.""I always thought sex was just an excuse to do odd things with whip cream.""I may sound pretentious, but don't let that fool you.""Even if I may not respect yours, I do have feelings, too.""I am my own best fairweather friend.""Slow and steady wins the race, unless your knees are busted, and you're sprayed with mace.""You can never go wrong with whip cream.""I would call you Satanspawned, but I'm not sure if you didn't spawn Satan yourself.""It's not that I'm oldfashioned, it's that I'm unfashioned.""Nudity isn't always the best answer.""The plus side for dating a drug addict? Who needs date rape when your date is drugged up?""Is there meaning to existence, or are we put here for a reason?""Being all alone in thoughts and views is what being cynical is all about.""I'm the same as I was since I was like this.""What I say is meaningless to others and of less value to me.""I don't have time to concern myself with your pathetic worldI have a much more petty life to live and less important concerns to deal with.""I'm so far behind I wish I could die today.""Judge me by how I am in bed, because you'll probably never have that honour.""Ignorance is bliss, except during tests.""I'd much rather be called a loser or stupid than be thought one and not have the recognition.""I have no problems with kids; they understand.""I may not have my dignity, but I still have my toothbrush.""Something's rotten in the state of decay.""You know the world is in trouble when 'crack ho' and 'ghetto' are part of everyday language.""How do you catch a plane? Isn't that dangerous? Do they make nets that big, and is it like catching a cold—once you get it, you can't get rid of it?""I guess that's my tragic flaw—I tend to want to solve everything by shattering someone's kneecaps."
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"Feeling depressed and lonely? Cheer up, maybe you'll find some unfortunate girl in a drunken stupour one day.""'Got MLK?' should be the logo of black history month.""Mommas don't let your babies grow up to be hitchhikers or bikers or at all.""It's like falling off a bike; you never forget how.""Everyone needs something to look forward to, or behind, whichever the case may be and where you stand.""Don't ask me, I just. . . just don't ask me.""When I look at the world in abhorrence, I think of you, and I know that there is still good left. I think.""Like muddy water in the desert on a cold day in Sheol.""Whup yore ASCII.""I'd rather be thought a pervert than an idiot.""Maybe if they were doublejointed. . .""Heroin is a terrible thing, and a heroine is a terrible thing to waste: too messy. Not that I know.""Serial killers are safer than a mad woman.""No one is the best company; he doesn't ask unwanted questions and can make you do quite entertaining things.""Headaches are the key to success, whether you give headaches, have a headache, or are a headache.""I'm quite disturbed, and, disturbed, often surprising.""There are bigger fish in the sea to fry.""Well, I hope that whatever will happen will happen, because if it didn't happen I would be confused.""War is simply the time in any country's history when the government humours the sickos, freaks, and homicidal maniacs to keep them happy.""Nothing can stop the US Postal Service but Sundays.""In the South, is it considered incest when you like a person who seems almost like a brother or sister to you, or when you 'go with them?' But even if you did, would it matter here?""I love you is just a string of words; a kiss is from the heart.""A tanning bed is always a fun place to meet strangers; just hop under there with them.""Maybe the reason the rapture hasn't happened quite yet is because God is waiting for you to have sex to literally catch you with your pants down.""I'm in love with someone in this world, and until I figure out who, no one can be happy!""I have a hangunder—it's where you have the headache without getting drunk.""My stories always seem to unravel like a bad piece of cloth.""There are those that consider friends merely expendable resources, but I feel they are more valuable since it takes me longer to make a friend that I can afford to lose!""If wishes were horses, I'd have a ranch."
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"Today's been hectic in a calm and peaceful kind of way.""Don't do anything in your dreams that I wouldn't.""If you could have any tooth pulled for me, which one would it be?""Have a ménageàtrois with only two people: get a schizophrenic hermaphrodite.""If the answer to the question is 'a dead body, a bloody spoon, and a can full of worms,' then don't ask it.""Never say 'Oh, my God!' in the presence of a preacher.""Football is repetitive, but nowhere as good as techno.""Never tell a woman she's wrong.""No one wants a black rose.""Nothing is always an option.""Depression is the male version of sorrow.""Being crazy doesn't make you insane.""Loss of rights and oppression is normal, in the most abnormal way.""Pain is a means of expression.""Never abuse your slave labor, lest it become unhappy with its station.""Ambition is a sin for the rich; love is a sin for the poor.""Nothing is wasted unless you don't try. That is a waste of thought and being.""Weird dreams are always the best; you just have to disguise them, like so many other things.""Losers exist because of other people.""Once it becomes personal, it becomes perverted.""You know what you mean, but can rarely express it.""If thy hand offendeth thee, cut it off. What if thine neighbor's hand offendeth thee more, though?""We are all children avoiding the circumstances of change.""All men are created unequally for specialization.""I am nothing if not partially honest.""Pain is in painting.""You don't see many skating parties for infants.""Good music never dies, it is merely forgotten.""The difference between being of use and being used is gratification.""My ignorance is why I can sleep at night.""What he doesn't know, he won't have to forget.""Breaking up is like waxing—it hurts.""I'd rather have your money than your acceptance.""I'm ready when you aren't.""To admit defeat is to acknowledge humanity.""No one's ever what they seem.""Never have faith in anyone."
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"Humans are flawed and will inevitably let you down.""Go to Yale.""Black is to the soul as cellophane is to the body.""Your Death shall set you free.""Independence is not freedom.""Time is addicted to uppers and downers, and just leaves me depressed.""The essence of living is making things as hard upon yourself as possible and seeing if you can manage to survive.""I tell you the truth, at least, how I see it. Truth is judgmental and biased; fact isn't.""I'm here in this world, just torture me like everyone else.""I wish I had gone to nowhere and stayed there.""We only know we don't want our lives because we're intelligent enough to realize how shoddy and worthless this world is.""I'm tired of living, but I was put here to suffer and help others at my own expense.""Why don't you hear my unspoken words?""There are those which are omnivorous for love, content to sup upon crumbs from anyone's tables."They say laughter is the very best medicine, but no matter how much I laugh or make myself laugh, I just keep getting sicker on the inside.”“I don't understand anything, anyone, or anything; and while ignorance should be bliss, somehow it has worked out not to be.”“Hamlet was the Original Goth. Look at him. He wore black , talked of suicide, acted crazy, was constantly depressed, lost many of his friends to death, and brooded constantly.”
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Widdles
I am a Southern pastime.I am the root of Southern shame.I am what you deny.I am what others scorn.I am why you are.I am what you fear to guess.I am. . . well, what am I?
Nbreedeen
Slithering aroundLike a snake on the ground.While slithering along,You're what I found.You're lower than the earth;You're lower than me.But what on earth can you be?
Sen
I am you; you are me.Don't scoff, sneeze, nor cough!When you are sick ,I'm attacked by disease.Can you guess what I am?Tell me, please?
Tisyou
I descend as a locustUpon fertile fields growingBefore the harvest has come.Small but many am I,Yet swollen overall,Whilst devouring new budsOf green previously unbakedBy the hostile sun.Black am I as night,And present only a short while,
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But my effects are longlasting andDevastatingly irreparable.If I were to say I wasSwollen as a bloatéd corpse,What destruction wouldYou say that I am?
Tean Pwegnunsea
My best friend, ever atMy side where he's alwaysBeen, even before he metI, and I became acquaintedWith the abstract workingsOf his demonself thatLets me gage what consistentTemper he is in, whichTells me what I shouldPresently be doing. ThoughI am not always inApproval of his actionsAnd decisions of rashnessAnd sporadic attempts toRush me or interrupt,I cannot help but toSupport him.
Thyme
An easy lover whoseList of lovers emptilyGrows bigger constantly,I am old but in thePrime of my health when I'mCompared to those of myLoves who've died of ageAnd violence in the greedyUrge to expand their power'sGirth. I've been promiscuousSince birth. Who am I?
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Younaverse
Unlike butter I amHealthy, thinly spread, andDo not inflame wounds whenPlaced atop. Though I amSpreadable, I am oft' waddedAnd less frequently consumed.
Behdsprahed
The new kid at school, I amWellloved superficiallyAt first by those who don'tBother to acquaint meAt the first meeting and takeTheir interpretations thusUnjustly. Misunderstood,Thus have I words and meaningsStored far from the collectiveConscious. But soon am I castAside contemptuously byFriends of sporadic fair weather.
Mewzique
I saw everythingVisible through you andYour moods that vary fromPlace to time to purpose.Astray, you did leave meUnknown and scared in ourAbsence of love. But e'erDo you return with yourMood swings' loving, till youAre turned off. But I knowThat faintly you still watchMe and love me hiddenlyWhen I cannot seeWho you are. Do I know?
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Lyete
Females can't be trusted;I've known and heard too muchAbout your wickédness.I don't blame you for theOriginal sin butFor many deaths. I knowSome men would like to thinkOf you as tools, but anyConfident of dominationAre fools. In a second ofPlayfulness or confidenceYou mince peace and shatter theIntimate and fondlingRelationship. I promiseThis is an unloadedQuestion; what is your name?
Guhnn
What is it that ensuresThe continuationOf this grand ole world? WhatMakes for interestingAnd repetitive newsCoverage? What makes forA greatly amusingForm of entertainment?What makes one want to cry?
Vielints
I once saw many anOrator without wordsWho spoke volumes in theirSilence. They used not signLanguage to express theirWorld's view of things, but aParticular choice of
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Clothing which each comparedTo another and usedThis for promotion andRank. Also of note wereThe bathing habits whichDiffered from voice to speakerAnd spoke of travels and lifeMore than their tongue. I wasNever able to find outTheir name. Does anyone know?
Shoohs
Masked behind the facadeOf sudden pouting IVerily saw the strangestThing. A billboard of blown lightsProclaimed a virtue sacredEnough to restrict mostSpeech in efforts to makeEach word as sacred asBefore. Tell me gravelyIf you can tell no otherWhat virtue this might be.
Salumnuhtea
I'm too lazy to tell you;You'll have to tell meWhat can make a personHappy, what makes one lessSkilled, and what wastes time asA mob hitman.
NDoughlints
The great seductress, I wasForged in steam and playful wordsMisperceived. I am armouredIn manmade synthetics thatLike the plastics in surgery
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Disguised my figure and leadThe damnéd to destructionAnd social love that corrodes.If you see me on the roadDriving by it's alreadyToo late, someone's sold their soulTo me and, like a wolf, itI have eaten. Name me ifYou dare or could not careWhile I sleep away theSocial pillars and rabble.
Rayghe
Such a back ground has aSlimming effect uponThe nearby who, for fearOf hurting the pride ofThe artist who labouredDiligently lackingThe creative talentTo impress other than with sheerRepugnance, remains silent ofArtistic criticism.
O Beesahtee
They saw all when, fullyClothed in this, I venturedForth into the tanningSun. I didn't intendTo expose all, but itRather happened by consequence.I should've gat garbed in faith.
Sailofain
Like hieroglyphics toByzantines, these eludeComprehension and tendTo be more like works of
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Artistic amusement andAwe of the world's oppressingEnigma. How is it thatLanguages die as peopleAnd histories are shattered?How is that great areForgotten and the commonGrunt that established most ofGreatness is oppressed byOblivion? Why canSomeone be unloved, andWhy can one be deceived?
Pea Pul
There is no stopping them fromAttacking the innocents,Breaking laws, and pressuringBy fear a person toSee their way. They are the mostContinual terrorism,And are set to stay that way.No government can stop them,Though everyone may tryTo ignore them or placateTheir demands. This group's trulyToo unified in itsSplintered special forces.I would tell you to run ifYou could possibly escape,But even then you wouldSee the effects of this inYour life. What so plaguesHumanity mercilessly?
Thacherchuz
Bloodthirsty vermin whoAttack to compensateFor what they could never
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Make, they lack touch with theHost's intent while they drainAnd sicken and have smallBrains and the lamented Ability to everBe wrong. With opposableThumbs they latch on, rate theHost's soul and do smuglySnicker. What is the nameFor this parasite muchLike a flea, tick , or chigger?
Chritick
I saw someone happy todayAs well as morally sound. itWas the most spirituallyRevolting thing I've ever found.I couldn't grasp his joy,For the solemn weight of GodMust surely bring you down.Then, after spying hisDecorred altars I realizedHis err to be thatHe was one of these.
Paygun
Life works in strange oddities,I once was pulled by a bike.Shortly thereafter aYounger lad was viewed draggingMe behind his trike. For bothOf these lads a congruentObject wellused and handedDown, me, provided happinessAnd purpose for no destructiveToll. What am I?
Resighculled Kan
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I had come out of anOven freshbaked and tasty,Eager to be devouredAnd complement the otherSandwich parts here in theDelicatessen.But then a latexed handGrabbed me and stuck me underGlass that's meant for other'sProtection. UnableTo cry aloud. I wasSilently angered byA rending knife piercingMy crusty hide. InsideThe slit white pus was smearedAnd nasty black olives,Depitted. More rottenVegetation which clashedDisrespectfully withWhat I was was thrown insideThe gap and I was slowlyConsumed. I asked myselfInto what I had been made.
Uh Substatoot
Rather awkwardly andUnnaturally—WithoutTongue's lapping—I was drunkenFrom. I wondered at what wouldSteal my vitalityAnd moisture. Bewildered ILooked around and saw scratchesOn me much as the hair onThe drinker's chin. Through myCurvêd bottom I looked downAt a glass pedestalAnd saw what I was.
Glahsus
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Shots
At first I knew Hitler to be resurrected. The nurse gravely entered the room with a tray. We kids were ordered onto our feet; something ominous foreboded. As the small cups were dispensed, I knew it to be poison. We were too young to die as adults, why should we be subject to mercy killings? The merciless women forced our death upon us.
Something miraculous then occurred to hinder our massacre. The roof top of the classroom was rent in twain, and brilliance blinded us. When the light had departed, it was evident that Nurse and Teacher had as well. In their place was a platoon of Nazi troops who had been sent to destroy God. Judging from the bloodied corpse which we had to glance at from our periphery due to its brilliant grandeur of magnificence, they had succeeded. Most of us cast our caps to the wayside. A few idiots drank; they died. The rest of us ran off into the fields of flowers, holding hands with our own personal Nazi. It was a warm and solaced time of life. They said the Panzer group was near.
But, here in our perfect world, there was no inordinately long and unduly recess. Instead, the Nurses forced the toxins within. Each morning the dread fluoride swigging would transpire. Each morning our breath would smell as venomous as imitation strawberry or bubblegum. Each morning I wondered of what government test I was involved in.
It grew to a point that the fluoride triggered early alcoholism. The shot glasses of many a peer would be thrown back for a moment, the contents chugged, and then slammed upon the desk. Greedily, the glasses of those who'd been less hasty were eyed. Perhaps the fluoride is the cause of the widespread drinking of peers. Perhaps it is the reason for retardation; the toxicity was often swallowed.
Then, one day the withdrawal began. Until our biological clocks adjusted when as teen and induced a need of retiring and arising later, never had I seen such a great amount of grumpy peers in the morning. The shot glasses had been retired and the fluoride would be administered no more. It would only become a distant memory of my first and second grades.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Here Musteth I Apologizeth For These
BSidesI feel an immense guilt of shame for burdening what few readers I may have with this. There is yet time to escape, if one reads slowly enough to never finish or skips over the next few pages. Why are there BSides in this glorious composition? Why, only in abhorred memory of myself and to give the critics even more to deride.
I have been niggardly in dedication; this next section is to myself. As the unfortunate shall see, stinginess does not pay. I would gladly donate the burden of praise and dedication to another, but that person might become even more offended than I have made him or her to date. Not only are these present for the humour, spirit, and constitution of any critic unlucky enough to have read this collection, but also to enlighten myself. Like critics I must ever be negative, and the following gives ample reason. Now that I have realized that, though the preceding works were not excellent, these are extraordinarily awful, I must beware of it. If I forget from whence darkness I came, then I may unknowingly slip into it again. I would not devolve, since I have come a long way to my nowhere. Only through mistakes do I seem to learn.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Chapter XXVII
BSides
The following are Bsides,And they are really bad;It seems I wrote themAfore any talent I had.
5 Their existence is a crime,And I should be locked away;They are an assault upon the eyesAnd battery against the bright day.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Life
Living is the wakeful dream;Things are not as they seem.Half of it sips from sleep's cup,The other's caffeineridden to keep you up.
5 While awake death does lurk;Asleep, does he wake you just to smirk?It seems a feeble plan,To dodge the traps that're laid;But come sleep, pour me another mug,
10 For of you I'm not afraid.
467
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Dressing Up
Dressing upTo mask what you feelDressing up to mask insideMask what you are
5 Dressing upTo hide your misdeedDressing upAnd still inside it bleedsDressing up
10 To go once moreDressing upOn this painstricken shore
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Circumstance
And like the wingsOf a flyCircumstance has pluckedAnd left me to die.
5 A myriad of myopicLens focus upon my faceTo see the potentialWasted in this place.The maggoty cold,
10 Clammy hands extendDeath e'en now leads meDown paths that I must wend.
469
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Rego
I was climbing those poem treesWhen I faltered and broke my neck.Staring deadly at the eerie arbor,I arose to be a nervous wreck.
5 Though the bark and limbs appearIdentical, they're tremulous as leaf,And after an misstep one tearsWith humiliation and mournful fret.Rarely is the fee death, indeed
10 There is regeneration,But only at the cost ofContinual verbose regurgitation.Help, where I lie the canopyBlocks the sun of inspiration,
15 And wild thoughts, though not a good one,Form a ravenous congregation.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Screw the Farmers! <There ' s More of “Us” Anyways> 180
Daylight savings timePlays with your mind.Spring forward; fall backIn retreat to confusion's attack.
5 At 6 o'clock it's dark outside.In twelve more the sun stops its hide.It's a total mind blowWhen day speeds fast as it can go,But when darkness falls
10 Minutes seem not to pass at all.At seven pm it seems much later.It feels like being hit by a freighterWhen I fall back an hour.An unadjusted bioclock wields power
15 Unmatched by carnival rides.Slowly away an autumnal night slides.A fixéd time should be negotiated betweenThe two standards. It would improve my mien.
180 screw. . . farmers: operates on the assumption that Daylight Savings time was invented for farmers, as some have suggested.
471
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
If Kept Busy
If kept busy,One shall remember no moreThe ideas and lovesThat the brain tried to store.
5 If kept busy,Thought cannot survive;But adrenalineBrings one gladness to be alive.If kept busy,
10 One hasn't control;True freedom comesWhen one relaxes for a stroll.
472
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Planning
Planning planningAlways planningO, the gulfs of paperYour pen should be spanning
5 Spinning, spinningYour world aroundYou see oddlyHear in unseen soundNot for others
10 Only for youCould tell us allWhat you knewSo many joys andExperiences to share
15 But for lack of actionNo one will care.
473
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Love
There is a sixth loveSent from above.Nameless this sixth;Nameless and pure,
5 God sent and holy,It shall endure.Not just EpithumiaWith its lust and desireBut Epithumia plays its part
10 By lighting a blind attraction's fire.Full of the passionWracked with sentimentThe sentiment of ErosBut stronger
15 More preciousNever do the sandsThe grinding sands of timeWear down the powerThe bond
20 A bond of priorityFirst on the other's mindAlways on the other's mind,Those who are soGrievously stricken
25 Bound upShackled in this loveFettered as familyLoyal to each the otherBelonging
30 To each otherIf to no one else,Nowhere elseIn this crazy confused worldAll the best of Storge love.
35 Bound as friendsBound as lovers
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Akin in interestsAkin in attitudesYet
40 No hindrance by PhileoWill venture forthExpectancy of a response. . .Not a problemNot an issue
45 Not a needAgape's betterUnendingUnconditionalActionbased
50 EmotionalPersonalA love to bend timeWarp its spokesBend its wheels
55 A loveThe loveSweet love
475
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Jungle
Lost. . .All aloneHelplessAfraid
5 Fearing what may be behind the next decomposing logScared. . . Heart racingWhat was that sound?What was that roar?
10 Was that your belly or. . . ?Trees. . . .Towering skyward and ever trueCovered in foliageCrawling with junglings
15 Canopy hiding that what should be blue.Misting. . . .Rain dripdropping alongPeltingVapors congealing to droplets and streaming
20 From above the leafy coverCreepers. . . Feeling their waySlowly, surely, inevitablyGrasping all in their clutches
25 Spider webs sans a need of the spinnerRoaring. . .Ahead in the distanceIt's thereThe beast
30 Careful, or be offered up as its feastDeluge. . .Soaking your inner beingThunderrivaling roar for supremacyFear the rain, its flood
35 Washing all awayAs a wound does with blood
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Slithering. . .Snaking and coiling through streams and humusBehind you
40 Around youA danger unseen but dangerously feltTrembling. . .Is this what came next?Awe of Creation, of creatures, and creating
45 Noise is attentionShuddering more, venturing blindlyStill. . .No word to describe itOnly the rain pouring ever downward
50 Creatures bustling, busy, bitingIndifferent to the rain pouring ever downwardLittle. . . But vicious yetAnts march and muscle
55 MilitantSuperbly trained, appetites drainedGrowling. . .Closer though this path is to the other askewManeating plants, covetous for flesh
60 So is thisAs is the restGroping. . .Darkness upon this jungle descendsIs that a safe place for the hand?
65 Feeling along, blindly stumblingThe jungle hoarsely chanting, mumblingFlee. . .The time has comeThe growling is upon you
70 Darkness hinders flightWhy fight?None. . .Escape is not fitBlazing through the jungle too young
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
75 Unable to handle, unable to deal, unable to distinguish Which danger was realDon't trust yourself to survive the jungle aloneFeast. . .A banquet of Flesh
80 A banquet of SinA banquet that all who partake of do not winSmothered, and still the rain keeps pouring down
478
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Set Me
Set meSet me freeTake me from this world apartShow me all I need my heart
5 Sell meSell me drugs to set me lowYou are the only drug I needGive it to me, set me freeBreak me
10 Break me to plethora partBreak me bend me shred my heartBreak me with addiction, set me freeSet meSet me on a pedestal high
15 Set me to fall or flySet me free to dance addiction
479
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Repress ion
I cannot tellyou wouldn't have felt,you couldn't have copedwith the cards I was dealt.
5 I am alonetelling to othereloquent fearscommuned with the earth mother.I have no one
10 that I can trustsecrets kept with metill hemoglobin rusts.
480
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Black Rose
Once Noble Doric shaft,Now Bonsaicrooked stem of woe,Once glorious crowned with ruby pleats of love,Why hath fell tarnish bred,
5 And the crimson from your cheeks fled?Where do you belong?Loss of love,Its vacancy filledBy bitter sorrows hath killed
10 The crimson vitality of which you speak.Velvety, smooth, now wrinkled and frail;Touch, and unsheathed thorns urge thou to imbibe a wail.Unsheathed by the dark sorrow, lost with beauty.Hold me in thine hand, Feel the pricks and stings
15 Think it not queer, or rather just Wyrd,A black rose is not desired, its beauty thus so seared.I belong in moonbeams, in the sunlight, free from sorrow;Glistening, even during gloaming, reblossoming again.I'll unite with my ruby, cut from this stem,
20 Perhaps the morrow.
481
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Sing Along
Sing AlongSame old songVoice of fearVerse of pain
5 Slip awayOnce more this dayTo the junctionWhere nothing will functionSkip along
10 Run awayHurry HieDesist and flyTime it rightTime is right
15 All is wrongDance to time's songPoint the fingerLay the blameNothing new
20 It's all the sameCome againWhat was thatThought you had said. . .We wont' go into that
25 Come againTo the junctionMaybe nowSomething will functionBreak the bones
30 Break the backSmash it allPaint it blackGo awayYet again
35 Went to the junctionAll ceased to function
482
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Independence
Smother my words,Slaughter my thoughts,Slay my actions.Independence can't set you free,
5 Oppression is a beast;“Radical” is its feast.Scared at a thought,To anger turns,In rage it the newness spurns.
10 Spawned by tradition,It tradition must keep;Opposition enjoys death's sleep.
483
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Almost
Almost could I believe the lieBut then a thought reveals what can't restfully lie.Almost could I happiness findBut vengeful truth joy does blind.
5 Almost could I stay foreverBut in my mind I know it was to be never.Almost could I force resolutionBut thought pours on a stronger, etching solution.Almost could I learn to trust
10 But thought an iron will can rust.Almost could I close mine eyes and seeBut sight works best away from thee.Almost could I hide this fearBut you kindled it to sear.
15 Almost could I hide I your eyesBut they were too crowded with your lies.Almost could I hold this breathBut you promised a quicker death.Almost could I stop the tears
20 But they shall flow throughout the years.
484
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Bloodstained Tears
Bloodstained tearswash away no fearsright no wrongcan't mask YOU're wrong
5 Bloodstained tearsonly when all is deadall that mattershypocritical tears splatterBloodstained tears can't hide YOUr crime
10 YOU killed us in deadly pantomimekilled us both in gleewill YOU even miss meBloodstained tears shed in grieffalse grief
15 YOU never caredYOU never attempted to or daredBloodstained tears shed too lateYOU sent us on our date with fatenever cared to understand
20 bloodstained tears speckle guilty sands
485
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Everyman
How quickly doth Fellowship fleeAway from Everyman and me.When I am sickNo one's care runs thick.
5 When I am depressedNo one's concern has me impressed.But when I am jolly and jovial, ayeFellowship comes out to play.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Left in the Weeds
Burnt by the pain and the fear in your chest.Burnt by the emotions that won't let you rest.Burnt by the words, by the deeds.Burnt, burnt and left in the weeds.
5 Smitten with a love harbored in my chest.Smitten by a love that won't let me rest.Smitten by the words, by the deeds.Smitten, smitten and left in the weeds.Slain by the indifference and cold in your chest.
10 Slain by a lovegreed that sent me to rest.Slain by the words, by the deeds.Slain, slain and left in the weeds.
487
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Manic Depress ive
Depressed againReunited withMy dearest FriendShowing me the ways
5 Peering through the eyeDepression staysLight fears to shineWhere depression treadsDarkness as I dine
10 On wings pallidly paleI flewAnd fellDespair gnashesMy hopeful skin
15 Bloodspurting gashesA shimmering light shinesDepression shrilly whinesAs the light manumits meForward the light
20 Manic light of careDepression ends thereHappiness backUnder Depressive attackFly to fall again
488
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Masochism Schism
Torture andTorment meDon't wait any longerForget the pain
5 Joy's strongerTwist and defileI want it more and moreBend break and abuseScare me
10 And scald meWax droppingsCut deeperDole out your bruisesYou sadistic sleeper
15 While I am burningWhile I am bleedingWhen I am wrothWhen I am screamingWhen I no longer
20 Dare to sit downJust to rememberJoy's strongerBleed meBruise me
25 Swoon me unsweetlyUtter a curseFoul and profaneDon't hold backHave no reservation
30 Joy's strongerHit me again
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
My Fellow Amer icans
my fellow americans,our days of gloryhave come to an endfor dark are the paths
5 we've begun to wendsubversive groups polkadot the landscape likerabbit pellets, ourharbingers of doom.
490
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Not a Night for Love
Last night was justNot a night for love;Venus plunged unseenFrom the skies above.
5 Though she was unseen,We all felt her fall;For she left our heartsOne and all.As she flamed
10 Across the skyThere was heardThe lamentable cryOf breaking heartsAnd empty lovers.
15 My love and I ignoredIt under our covers.
491
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
On the Back of a Sign
on the back of a signon the side of the roadinscribed camouflagedlyfor none to see
5 the snickering cryfor helpful hands.
492
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Sor row's Song
i amno moreno lessgreater than the rest
5 captive to crooningcoyishly cunningloosely sporadicengine half runninga dot
10 on the mapof the starsin my headhope is a luxuryhope lies in care
15 hope, yet hopeshe'll never be therespacecrazed and dazedwithdrawalfell phase
20 shaking and shudderingtrembling piningcall to my headto my heartstop whining
25 rarely addictednone others fight thisyield to thisyearns for thisalone as an addict
30 supplier hence gonesingingsingeingburning my coresear my being
35 bass risestreble plummets
493
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
meeting of tragedyon my soul's depth's summitsinvisible to transients
40 transient peaceleave meleave meleft me a pieceheart shattered
45 soul brokenmirrored to piecesbrokenin twainmillion shards
50 shards scatteredtwisted, deformedconglomerationspilled wineseeping
55 wending throughthe cracked glasswine stained sweetcoppery smoothferrous liquid
60 bruisedscarredbeatenabusedabuse the beater
65 abuse is a ruseployplotting closerspanning a gulfere it waxes wider
70 collapsedemotions trickle downhappinesssadnessraw
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
75 raw laughterwry laughtercontinuing onever more aftermarooned
80 in an adentwisted with greedimpartial watcherscatalog each misdeedswine
85 swindling allall in my sightvision unrestoredblackness risesLightwaves fall
90 fall into blacknessinto sorrow'ssongalivebut mainly just dead
95 blackness risesLightwaves fallfall into blacknessinto sorrow's song
495
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Dinner
Carnage dinnerGluttonous feastGleam the eyeRip into the beast
5 Run awayWhile you canRun awayIf you canSavagely steaming
10 Morsels devouredAll the meat and the boneFrom the soul scouredRun awayIt draws near
15 Run awayObey your fearHunger for bloodThirst for painRavenous demons
20 Fearcries make them insaneRun awayQuicken your strideRun awayRun, you can't hide
496
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Tucked Away in the Si lent Corner
Tucked away in the silent corner,Behind the fears of youth,Hides the gem of ages.I know this for a truth.
5 Tucked away in a silent corner,Where no one else may seeHer magnanimous glory;Often not even me.Tucked away in a silent corner,
10 Layered with loving dust,Lies what none care to see.But I must see her, I must.Tucked away in a silent corner,She shan't always be;
15 For if I look hard enoughMy future do I see.
497
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Last
This day should never have come;This day, the last.This day should never end;Alas, it has passed.
5 In a dream,It must be,Closely together,You're all I see.The wind blows
10 Gently for a space;Your silken locksLapping at my face,Sweet this heaven,This long embrace;
15 I feel moreThan is shown on my face.You lead me onTo where it matters not;Everything else
20 In this dream I've forgot.Potential for beauty,But it happened too fast;The first time,But it was the last
498
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Tears to Set Love
She cries the tearsTo set me low,And into the depthsI plummet below.
5 She cries the tearsBecause I brought pain;Inside the tearsDrive me insane.She cries the tears
10 Because I betrayed;But betrayal's songShe also played.Yet here I sit,My soul full of fears;
15 Brought lowBecause she cries the tears.
499
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Immobi l ized Victim
I am your immobilized victim,You've frozen me for no good;And here I stand watchingAnd waiting still as wood.
5 I am your immobilized victim,Escape, there is none,I am held here to be victimized,When really I should run.We are all immobilized victims
10 Of this world and its hate.Unity is the way to break free,For strength shall make it dissipate.
500
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Linger ing
Lingering longerIn agony on this ephemeral shoreBe free of Pain's wrathForevermore
5 I need youWant you here by meBut I know I keepYou to bear agonyI love you
10 I love you, yet why should you staySuffering aloneTo make me gayQueer reason am IYour reason for life
15 Hereby onlyElongating your strifeFeeble enoughUnable to proclaim it audibly loudCrying furtive silence
20 Tears to wash away your cloud
501
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Why?
Why do you kick?Me in the headWhy do you treat?Me as if I were dead
5 Why do you crush?Within my hopeWhy do you grin?With glee and gloatWhy do you delight?
10 In making me painedWill you stop?Till my death supremely has reigned
502
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Cry
What did i dowhat did i sayto make me miserableeveryday
5 What did I doto deserveunrequited scornwithout reserveWhat did I do
10 to cause me to crywhat did I doto make her dieWhat did I doto be stranded alone
15 scared and emptyas swallow boneWhat did I doto make you despisewhat I held dear
20 with cold twisted liesWhat did I doto make these tears flowwhy are you belligerentI must know
25 What did I dowhat did I saynow you causeme to cry all the days
503
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Groan
GroanIn painThe bitter melodyDoes remain
5 Transport me toThat afar away shoreWhere the maladyPlagues no moreWhere melodies
10 Sung the unbitterest sweetInstead of tunesOf defeatWhere heaven's balmMercifully applied
15 Does end the maladyMy qualmThat afar away shoreO Distant landReality should be
20 On that strandO Distant landThat afar away shoreWhere pain can harmNo more
25 That afar away shoreO Distant landWhere peaceNumbers the grains of sandO Distant land
30 That afar away shoreDesist and fly wrenching agonyRemission is its choreAfar away shoreO too Distant land
35 Elusive are you to my dreamOf sleeping on your sand
504
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Wide Open Eyes
Wide open eyesImbibe a draught of painInhale the sunlightOnly fear remains
5 Trapped in darknessDark dark holeLost in the blindnessHole in my soulWalking on air
10 Walking on careTramping on downTo bitterness fairSweeter than acidStronger than steel
15 Etching out a carvingMaking it realWounded and wistfulWittily deadEpoxy epoxy
20 Glue in my headDull sweet thunderDrumbeat lullPound out the rhythmTo life's beat; null
25 Writhing in wrynessRinged with the singingHumming the searingDiabolic whineDrink to the whine
30 Eat to the singeingPain isTo peace revengingLost lone and lonelyCaught pulled to blackhole
35 Trapped in small vastnessRipped all apart, hole in my soul
505
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Heartily feltBlow to skullMortally dealt
40 Senses go dullSensibility fringedWith shackles of sinDoing what's wrongGood trapped within
45 What's wrongWhat's wrongWhat's right anymoreDance to pain's songWon't be long
50 I can feel itFeel it allStaggering down to sitFeel it noneFeel it fully
55 Feel a wrongDealt undulyAdroit of painMessenger of hurtTidings you bring
60 Of meeting dirtRip it in twainRip it to shredsCast it to peacesBungle banged in heads
65 What is moreWhat is leftJobbing me a joyWill bereftDivest me of pain
70 Anoint in balmBestow mePouring down rain
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Separations
General DarknessOut of the gentle darknessWalks the bardHis feet and mind are weary
5 His heart grown hardA piteous taleHe shall relateOne that your despair and miseryWill sate.
10 FearStriking him cold at heartStopping him before he does startA cautious look round to seeIf from its oppression he is free
15 Reassured the bard continues onDwelling on the evil present when alone.LifeThe punishment of existenceAnd feelings therein
20 A cruel fate and crueler on the earOf he who listens with the windThe bard glances upFrom the warmthless fireTo sing of that that's colder on his lyre
25 LoveA concept thatWhat's worth living forThe loss of thatWhich makes dying death
30 A heartmoving dreamEver and pureA soulwrenching scream,Sings the bard, that ever shall endure
507
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Bloodstained Hands
The blood is pumpingTrickling outBloodstained handsLimping about
5 Bloodstained handsMarred with redSomething is dyingSomething just deadBloodstained hands
10 Numbly moving scarce aboutHeart stopped beatingAnd still the blood pumps the trickling outBloodstained handsGuiltily spotted
15 Heartblood still atricklingEnduring unblotted
508
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Out of Touch
Out of touchCan't feel you anymoreEverything's grown surrealI don't know you anymore
5 Who are you?The one I once knewYour visage remainsBut reality from you flewWhat is it like,
10 To live in a dreamWhere things areWhat they seemLook for the hiddenLook for the traps
15 Look for realityBefore your cage snaps
509
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Disadvantages/Advantages
The Disadvantages of Being a Free Lance Open Source Developer●You do everything for free, so. . . if you're not previously wealthy, have another job, or can mar
ket your distribution you may have some problems when it comes to funds●If you're married, your wife might not like you staying up all hours of the night or giving your
work away.
The Disadvantages of Living Alone●You have to wash the dishes eventually, unless you live off paper plates and plastic forks●Taking out the garbage will become a must●Either you hire a maid once a week , or you must clean at given intervals. And yes, this does in
clude the bathroom●You have to learn how to tie a tie●You have to pay the bills solo●Runs on the local grocery store may become quite common, especially if food is important in your
life●Who do you have to annoy and get mad at?
The Disadvantages of Having a Baby●Diapers●Washable Diapers●The times when you don't have to blame the smell on anyone●Broken objects●It doesn't catch very well at first, and your spouse yells at you for hitting it with a stick again●The perfect babe magnet. Sigh. But you probably can't utilize this, unless the wife doesn't mind,
that is
The Advantages of Being a Free Lance Open Source Developer●You get to help others with your work●There's no boss to breathe down your neck , and if you are normally the boss, then you can have a
chance to have fun doing the real work●No messy managerial duties!●You make your own hours—You can sleep the 4 hours if you need it or are bored, and the other
20 you can work with enthusiasm. Stay up all night working, and who cares if you're still sleeping at 8 the next morning!!
●If your program has bugs, thousands of others out there are checking behind to get them. . . so you can have all the fun programming
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
The Advantages of Living Alone●There is no one else there to mess up your system of organization●You can go for longer stretches at a time without washing dishes●You can have whatever you want for any meal, and not have to listen to complaints about vari
ous things like hamburgers not being a breakfast food●Who do you have to share the bathroom with? No one!! So use all the hot water you like and
leave the toilet seat up!!!●You can get depressed without having to drag others down or hide it
The Advantages of Having a Baby●There's someone to blame the smell on●There's someone to blame broken objects on●There's a feasible excuse for buying baby food●It's a perfect substitute for a small animal, if you can't have a pet
511
The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
His Own Island
A thoughtless man walked through an uncaring world about him. Thoughtless, this man had no desires to express. Neither listening nor talking, the man was unwanted by the world. Yet thoughtless, this man was not affected by stringent dislike.
An uncaring man walked through a lonely world. Thoughtless this man had no cares. Caring for no one and no one caring for him did he go unbrushed and unscathed by transference.
An unlonely man walked through a thoughtless land. This man had no one, and none wanted him. Yet by himself in this world was he not affected by loneliness. Loneliness is an emptiness derivative of the thought of being without those for whom one cares. This man had never thought or cared or, ergo, been lonesome.
This impersonal man walked through an impersonal land to his grave. Never needing or needed through this world did he go. His own island, free and safe and unscathed by the world, a world that forgot those who didn't give. He died and no one cared, and now he cares less than he ever did.
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For Your Pleasure, Disgust, and Comprehension
Appendices
I must immediately dedicate this section ofKnowledge, which will be overlooked or
scorned, to lexicographers. Whatwonderfully patient and objective people are
you! It is depressing that a simple amateurexercise in what you make a career out of
can have destroyed my patience.
Loving you forever for the service renderedby dictionaries and wishing that I could give
you a medal of some sort for the gloriousgift of language, an insignificant author
overshadowed by your work.
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Thesaurus/Glossary of Terms Used Herein
Aabduction: kidnapping without the consent of the abductee; what aliens doAbel : the second son of Adam in the Bible, as well as the first mortal to die/be murdered.abomination: anathema, annoyance, detested, hated, loathedabsorbs: sucks in, soaks inabstain: refrain, forbearabstinent: deniedabutting: adjoining, adjacent, boundingabyss: bottomless, pit, hellaccosted: greeted friendlilyaccustomed: used toacknowledge: admit, concede, confessacme: peak , high point, crestacquire: gain, achieve, possessaction: combataction f igure: a male version of a Barbie doll, often violent in natureAdam: the original man; all others are mass produced forgeriesAden: paradiseadept: skilled, talentedadmission: entranceadobe: a clayish mud from which houses in the Southwest are often constructed. It keeps coolness inside, and heat outadopt: to legally have another person's child become your ownadorn: embellish, aggrandize, make ornateadrenaline : a potent hormone of the human body that increases the heart's activity, and such, and thus provides what is termed “a rush”adverse : contrary, negative, unfavourableadversity: allied forces of circumstance, illwill, and apposition existing only to be crushed like the weaklings they must be for having to form an alliance; misfortuneaesthetical ly : for beauty onlyafar: distant, far1affects : love, affection, advances2affects : strikes, impresses, moves, influencesafl icker ing: flickering, twinkling, or shuttering rather rapidlyafore: beforeagony: pain, torment, South GAagree: go well; mix; harmonize; find accordanceague: sickness; feveraimlessly: without a goal or targeted destinationalas: alas; sadly
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
albeit: although; howeveralieness : a female alienallaying: relieving; calming; solacing; abatingallergy: unpleasant condition (rash, cough, sneezing, death) that results from a common stimulusaloof: withdrawn; reclusive; introvertedalter : changealterations: changesambition: a drive to achieve a goal, esp. power of some sortamidst: amongamoral : neither moral nor immoralan: ifanalyze: psychoanalyzeanarchy: chaosAndrew Jackson: quite a character, he was temperamental, a cheating duelsman (he wore a big coat in which he turned sideways,) and, eventually, after losing in the electoral college the first go round, became President number 7.anesthesia: drugs that produce silly and numbing effects on pain and the brainanguished: tormented; agonized; grievousanomaly: odd occurrence; irregularityapart: away; to extremesapathy: indifference; unconcern; detachment; insensitivityappalled: horrified; mortifiedapparel: garments; clothingappealing: engineering a production so that one will appreciate or enjoy itapplicable : deserving; fitting; relevant; appropriatearcheology: discovery of the ancient via digging and such excavationsaroma: smell; odorarouse: bring forth; create; excitear rayed: dressed in; armoured; arrangedart: areascertain: tell; judge; perceiveassault: attack; barrage; offensiveassumption: guess; inference; notion; presumptionasylum: institution; nut houseastigmatism: defect of the eye that causes light to be improperly rendered as the cornea is more oval than roundedasunder: apart; in twainA Team: the wimpy band of sidekicks who, more or less, got in Mr. T's way on the television series; at Pelham City Middle School, from the years 1994 to 1996, it was the designation for those who made the All A Honor Rollatoning: making reparationattractive: possessing some beauty pleasant to sight or another senseaught: anything
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
avar ice : greedawed: astonished; amazedawkwardness : gawky clumsiness; ungainliness; gracelessnessaye: forever; eternity; oblivion; nothingnessaxial: having axesAztecs: once the dominant force of belligerence in the Mexico area, until the Spaniards conquered
Bbackbound: fastened or secured together at the backbar r ister: lawyer; attorneyBarbie doll : a small figurine little girls frequently collect and gird with fashionable clothing, as they have nothing better to dobarber : one who gives haircuts, and, in Medieval times, bleedingsbarbs: jibes; stings; criticismsbard: minstrel; entertainer of olden days who played a lyre or flutebar renly: infertile; sparse; lifelessbass : the twelve pound fish every selfrespecting Southerner has mounted on their walls; deep, lowfrequency sound waves used to rattle windows and showoffbattery: testBAYBE: an especially stressed and emphasized version of “baby” which is here meant to express a pleasantly enthused emotion of burbling joybeauty: a quality of attraction; something in the eye of the beholderbeholder: one who beholds; observer; onlookerbehoove: to benefitbeleaguered: set upon; besiegedbenef it: good; advantage; welfare; interest; sakebias: bent; leaning; dispositionbids: commands; ordersbikers : a member of a traveling motorcycle gang; motorcyclist; one who rides bikesbirdies : birdsbitter: unpleasantblack: dark; evilblack plague: the black death or bubonic plague, an epidemic spread by the germs of fleas on rats that ported in Genoa, Italy and spread throughout Europe in the Middle Agesbland: dull; lacking flavour or imagination; boring; commonplace; blahblatantly: brazenly; unabashedlyblessed: fortunate enoughblink: droop the eyelids in order for moisture to coat the eyesbloody: an oath in Englandblossom: open a bud; be exposed to withering conditions; lose innocenceblows: punches; hitsblunder: mistakeboon: wish; favour
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
boot camp: recruit training command; where the freshmeat of the Armed Services goes for training and a number of weeks of Hell1bore : carried2bore : time without fun and pleasure; dull periodbounded: trapped; enclosedbounteous: plentifulbovine: pertaining to cowsbowels: repositoryBrail le : the alphabet of the blind; the raised dots of which it consists are felt.brawls: quarrels; fightsbray: communicate harshly in an animal languagebrokenly: pathetically; broken of will; immasculinelybuffer: zone which separates two things, especially rivals; distance; separationbugger off : scat; scram; leave; go; run away; scamper off1bust: a plaster sculpture portraying an important individual from the shoulders up2bust: hitButler 's Store : often referred to as Jack's, it was a quaint little store full of candies and drinks and an assortment of such goodies which kids from my neighborhood frequented
Ccaffeiner idden: full of caffeinecamels : Bactrian (2humped) and Dromedary (1humped) species of an equestriantype mammal known for its ability to survive off of its fat for weeks, and its spittingcandy for the eyes: pleasant to look at; attractivecanines: dogscannibal: a creature that feeds upon its own speciescanoe: a boat hollowed out and narrow, largely unsinkable, due to the Styrofoam that's often nestled in the endscaptivity: bondage; imprisonmentcar nal: fleshly; worldly; sinfulcarte blanche: blank slatecasket: a coffin. I associate it with being open like, oddly enough, a basket'cause : becausecel lophane: a clear plastic material useful for preserving food and making clothingcensure: punishment; reprimandchaotical ly: as with chaos, wild and uncontrollable and lacking the hindrances of order's boundschaperone: an adult charged with watching the behavior of youth on trips and at dances, etc.characters : figures in a work; dispositions; qualitiescher ish: to praise, worship, and baskchide: rebuke; reproach; scoldchirping: what birds do in a musical waychloroform: what is used in all kidnapping stories to make the victim pass out instantaneouslyChr istendom: Europe in the Dark Ages
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Chr istmas Eve: December 24 on the Gregorian calendar; the night before Christmas, when Santa, pulled in his sleigh by eight reindeer, brings presents to all the childrenchronically: repetitively; frequently; habitually; rituallycirclet: crown; diademcircumstance: result of events; occurrence; situation; incidentcitade l: a strong place; bastionclamourous: noisy; vociferous; loudclatter: meaningless sounds and happeningscl iché : overused phrase or wordcl imes: regions; climatescl ipclop: onomatopoeia for the sound horses' hooves makeclover: generally, it is a green, threeleaved plant which towers only a few inches. It is often called a shamrock , associated with Erin, and deemed lucky should it have four leaves on its stemcluck: meaningless noisecodependent: being suggestive to the manipulations of one who has serious problemscoffer: treasure chestcoherence : understandingcolonel : a rank in the armed forces, oft' pronounced “kernel” in the Southcomet: the transient of the cosmos, this collection of ice and rock wanders around set paths and returns in a given amount of years until it is no morecommence: begin; start; initiatecommit: to have a person admitted to an asylum; makecommunion: friendship; a church service mimicking the Last Suppercompensate: make amends forcompliment: flatter; praisecompletion: being whole and complete; totalitycomplexes: psychological disorders and traitscomplexion: the appearance of skincomputer l iterate: able to use computers effectivelycomrades: friends; communistsconce ive: thinkconduit: means of achievement; channelconfess : admitconf ined: trapped; cagedconquistador: Spanish conquerors native to the 1500s who, through superior technology and disease, obliterated the Native Americans in perhaps the greatest holocaust since the Flood, and found immense riches.consensual : agreed to; mutually doneconstitut ion: health; stamina; and suchcontaminants: substances that corrupt the integrity and make upcontempt: contempt of courtcontention: happinesscontusions: bruisescontract ing: becoming infected
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
contrasting: conflictingcontroversy: clamorous discontent arising from the risqué, unapproved, hotly debated, and radicalconvey: express; relatecor rupted: transformed; pervertedcosmic winds: high speed radiationcourt: date; woo; entertaincourteous: kindcovenant: promise; agreement; accordcovetous: greedy; lustful; full of avaricecower: shrink away and hidecoyish: shyly playfulcrack: a hardcore drug; corruption of cocaine with baking soda, etc.creed: kind; beliefcrests : peaks; risescr iminals : very nice peoplecr imson: a richly vibrant shade of what some blandly call redcrooning: singing violently from the gut with soulcross country: a running event which is more fun than track; cross country runners are more tightly knit and run for 3.125 miles or 5 kilometers (in high school.) The meets are also _Much_ shorter than track meets.cr umble: decay; disintegrate; break apart; collapsecr ush: a romantic interest in a person that is often short and passing, but passionate while present; inflammationculminate: resultcult: a charismatically centered radical groupcultured: refinedcurse : spellcurtain: barrier
Ddales: valleys; vales; glensdam: mother, in animal lingodamp: moist and wet; often needlessly or unpleasantlydashing: spirited; dandyish; chic; fashionabledeafening: disturbingly louddecaffeinated: lacking energy; blanddecanter : for simplicity's sake, a mugdecencies: terms the world of refined civilization uses to describe if an act is kosher; what society deems acceptabledecreed: said; stated; proclaimeddedicate: give; devotedeformation: defect of shapedescended: fallen; lowered; droppeddeem: esteem; judge; think; weigh; measure
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
defect: flaw; weaknessdefected: fled; left; converteddef ici ency: flaw; failure; shortcomingdelegates : representativesdelusion: illusion; mirage; trick; deception; hallucinationdemented: crazed; mad; deliriousdemise: death; partingdemocratic insur rection: change of power without violence only votesdendrophil iac: one who loves treesder ived: gleaned; taken; drawn; gathered; harvested; issuing; originating; stemming; arisingdespoilment: rape; molestation; ravagingdetected: founddetest: despise; resentdetraction: less; fewerdevious: sly; cunning; deceptivediadem: crown; circletdictionary: a collection of words assembled by very patient, verbose, and objective people; a neat place to learn new wordsdigress: recant; alter the subjectdilemma: tricky situation requiring thought as to what decision should be made; unpleasant choicedisastrously: terribly; sadly; lamentably; calamitouslydiscourse : conversation; an argumentdisdain: scorn; disgustdisease : thoughts; wickedness; the building block of an epidemicdispatch: senddisplaced: replaced; usurpeddistorted: changed; twisted; misrepresented; perverted; warpedditched: left; abandoned; desertedditty: song, esp. an amusing oneDNA: deoxyribonucleic acid, the strands of code from which humans are programmeddoff : removedominoes: a game whose pieces are rectangular wedges with a number of spots, and when stood on end and placed one behind another, these create a chain reaction that levels each domino in its pathdonning: putting ondost: dodoubly: twice; both of usdowntrodden: oppressed; sufferingDr. Frankenstein: the scientist from Mary Shelley's work who pieced together his monster like a quilt and animated it through electricity and in the end was saddened by the eventdraughts : drafts; brews; beverages; drinksdread: fear; anxietydrearyhearted: depressed; sorroweddr ift: aimless wandering
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
droplets: like drops, only more pristine and smallerdrow: a dark elf of subterranean dwellings that has a particular displeasure for his sylvan counterpartdr ugged: affected; stupefieddud: failure; bomb; flopdue: necessary; properdupe: fool; deceive; cheatdwarf: a short, stocky, temperamental humanoid who is known to live in caves and wield an axedwell : live; be present
Eearth: a miserable planet filled with miserable beings approximately 150 Kilometers from Solarisearthcolored: having natural colors such as browne 'en: evenego: prideelaborate: say more; continue; proceedelastic : varying; changeable; resumableelated: joyful; gleeful; happy; contentelectoral col lege : group of delegates who wields the ultimate say in Presidential elections; a creation of Alexander Hamiltonelf : a small breed of deer; a humanoid with an expansive lifespan and delicate sylvan beautyelk: a ruminant'em: thememit: make a sound audible; say; speakemphasis : attention; accentuationenchanting: bewitching; wondrousencr ypted: encoded; secured; privatized; lost; encipheredendear ing: admirable; lovableendure : live; perpetuate; last; bear hardshipsengaged: joined; lockedengineer : cause; produceenlightenment: wisdom; knowledgeenlist: draft; enroll; join upennu í : boredom and suchensue: followentail s: followentrails : guts; intestines; what's evisceratedentrap: snareenvelope: hold; embrace; smotherepic : long, narrative, grandiose poems that have a supernatural element and hero and are written to a meterequil ibr ium: balanceerode: wear away, esp. by nature's forcesessence: the small part of one that makes one one; the spiritet: and
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
etching: eroding; destroying, esp. graduallyeuphor ia: grand and intoxicating joyevidenced: proven; exemplified; shownexalt: praise; upliftexchange: conversationexemplif ied: characterized; embodiedexhibiting: displaying; paradingexpectation: standardexploits : adventures; feats; actsexploiting: those who exploit; those who use a weakness for their own benefitexplosion: sudden emission; burst; violent turbulent outbreak of energyexposure : contactexquisite : elegant and lovelyeyesore : something unattractively ugly and painful to gaze upon; this book
Ffabr icate : make up; createfactions: blocs and groups, esp. hostile or belligerent; partiesfain: hardlyFaith Hil l : a country music starfaked: forgedfallacious: in errorfal low: untilled, unplanted, barrenfantasize: dream about; read fantasy books by authors such as Tolkien and Jordanfantastic: wonderful; great; amazing; awesome; beautifulfared: were doingfastidious: picky; persnicketyfatalistic : rabidly pessimistic to the point that one assumes that it was fate that causes each event to transpire and there is naught to be done about itfauna: animals and suchFaust: Dr. Faustus from Goethe and Marlowe's works, who sold his soul for, as I understand it, knowledge in Marlow's play, and worldly experience due to his excessive knowledge in Goethe'sfaux: falsefavour: favorfeeble : shoddy; weak; frailfeign: pretend; assumefel l : evilfel l ing: crippling; lowering; destroying; knocking downfeminine: pertaining to a femalefemmes: beauties; femalesfew: not many in number; a handfulf ickle: female; inconstant; capriciousf ie on: curses upon; a pox on
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Fif i : a longrunning joke between a friend and I, Fifi is an imaginary inflatable dollf inelyspitted: an excellent meal made of a beast spitted and roasted over flamesf ir mament: heavenf irst: beginningf ishmonger: archaic term for pimpf ixédness : unwaveringness; fatednessflapping: moving back and forth rapidly; talking nonsenseflaunt: boast; bragflavour: taste; salivated aromaflaw: defect; fault; blemishfleeting: departing; temporaryflogged: whipped and beatenflop: a bad production; to do poorly; limply move around; clumsily flailf lora: flowers and vegetationFlorentine: pertaining to Florence, where the Renaissance beganflotsam and jetsam: the debris of a flood or tidefly: be loosed upon the worldfoi led: slain by a thin fencing foil; contrastedfold: times, manyfondle: intimately touchfools : Puritans; idiotsforbidding: not allowing; banning; prohibitingforeclose: end it; repossessforeign: alien; unknown; strangeforgone: obviousfornications: unwed intercourse and foreplay and suchforsake: abandon; desertforsooth: in truth; indeed; honestlyfoster: nurture; encouragefoul : evil; horrid; putrid; sinisterfrai l : delicate; weak; fragilefrequent: visit oftenfreshly: enthusiasticallyfreshman: a ninth grader in American secondary schoolsfret: worry; play the guitarFreud: turnofthecentury psychologist who originated psychoanalysis and the concept of everything being related to sexwhich had a much broader definitionfr izzy: disheveled and full of staticfrogged: hit, only with one knuckle slightly extended and with the intent, normally, of inducing great pain and numbness. It's a commoner's Novocain.fulf i l l : sate; satisfy; completefuthark: a passage written in runesfuti le ly: vainly; uselessly
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
futi leness : futility; uselessness
Ggamble: wager; venture; chance; bet; stakegame show: the dominant way for Americans to humiliate themselves and in the process pay more taxes, should they wingaming tables : billiard tablesGarbage: an alternative rock bandgarbed: clothed; attired; girdedgar ish: loud and clashinggaseous: gaslikegelcaps: a capsule with medicine insidegeneration: the people born at a certain timegenes: the product of parents which forms a person's blueprintsgeneses: beginningsgenius: an allegedly brilliant person; someone with an IQ over 132gibbous: the appearance of the moon when upon this earth it seems as though only about three quarters of it is visible and litgif ted: talentedgilded: highly ornamental; adorned with goldGiza: a strip of land adjacent to old Nilus where the Egyptian pyramids were constructedglasses: spectaclesglee: joy; happinessgl istens: glitters and sparkles, as with watergloaming: evening; twilightgloat: revel; inwardly braggloomy: melancholy; depressingglower: unhappily frown; the smile of a displeased person; scowlglue: an adhesive solution sometimes made from horsesgobbling: devouring; eating ravenouslyGolden Fleece : the object of adventure sought after in Jason and the Argonautsgondola: a boat that traverses the canals of Venice via polegoodwill : benevolence; favourgooey: sticky; puslikegoss ip: senseless talk and spreading of rumours, often done by loquacious womenGoths: a social segment that is stereotyped by black garb, pale skin, and a desire for pain and sorrowGPA: grade point averagegraced: favoured; honouredgraduation: high school graduation; a ceremony held at the close of the final year of secondary school to show that one has endured a bunch of nonsense and education; just another reason for underaged people to get drunkgraff iti : artistic vandalismgrail : chalice or goblet used for communiongrapple : wrestle; tussle with
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
grasp: hold; embracegravitate: to be attracted to; move towardgraze: a comparison of cows chewing cud to courtshipgreedy: eager for possessionsgr inch: a green man who lives above Whoville in a Dr. Seuss book engineered for kids; one who steals happiness and suchgrope: feel about blindlygrovel ing: basely wallowing in a prostrate fashion to show inferiorityguilt: the penance of a consciencegull ibi l ity: the state of being easily seduced mentally into a state of beliefguppy: pet fish with the unfortunate reputation of breeding a lot
Hhaiku: an Eastern poetry form which consists of three lines and seventeen syllableshalo: the tiara of angelshappening: chancing; finding; discoveringhaphazardly: chaotically; without rhyme or reason; randomly; helterskelter; aimlesslyharpoon: a spear that has a rope useful for retrievalhaunt: torment in a most unignorable wayHavana: the presentday capital of Cuba, but this is subject to changeheart: an organ that pumps blood; where most people erroneously think they love fromheck: a bad placeheralding: announcinghereby: by thisheresy: dissent; nonconformity; dogmatic sacrilegehesitation: doubthindrance: obstruction; that which balks; encumbrancehistor ian: one who must chronicle, or write, in some cases, historyhitch hikers : one who asks for a ride for a certain distance or until a specific townhit on: make passes at; make advances; bother for lust's sake; flirt withhoax: joke; ruse; prankhol istic : total, final, and encompassinghol lows: an oft' wooded depression in the earth's surfaceholy rol ler : extravagantly wild and showy religious personhomework: assignments intended to be completed at a student's homeHoover Dam: a large dam on the Colorado River which is responsible for that river effectively drying up around Yumahooves: the silly, toeless feet of horses and other such animalshostel : a place of boardinghosti le : angered; aggressivehumble: penitent; simple; lacking pridehustled: tricked into being robbedhypocr i sy: pretending to be one thing, while really being another; a sham; sanctimoniousness
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
hypothermic: vexingly cold to a point of death or frost bite
Iice floes: floating layers of iceicy: cold; chilledideal ist: one wrapped up entirely in the philosophical world of how things should be while completely ignoring the reality of an extenuating societyideal istic : philosophicalidiots: imbeciles; buffoons; fools; and harlequinsidle : otiose; futile; lazyidly: lazily; indolently; vainly; emptilyidols: worshipped and cherished objectsidyll : country; pastorali lk : kind; breed; sorti l l : naughty; bad; sicki l ls : maladies; harms; sinsi l legitimate : not legal; false; being conceived out of wedlockimmensely: very; greatly; enormouslyimpeccably: perfectly; sans flawsimplicit: not explicitly spoken but inferredimpolite : rude; discourteousimpostor: fake; phonyimpotent: powerlessimpulsively: without thought; directed by wantincapacitat ing: paralyzing; disabling; cripplingincinerate: burnincoherent: unfathomable; murky; puzzling; unclear; vague; muddled; incomprehensibleindescr ibable: lacking a method of description; inexpressible; incommunicableindignant: affronted; angeredinebr iatedly: in a drunken way or fashion; quite plastered; drunkenly; intoxicatedlyinfect: contaminate; corruptinflection: tone and pitch and attitudeingrown: a nail that has grown into the skin, as opposed to jutting out into space above the fleshin heat: eager; willing; desirousinherent: basic; native; natural; innate; ingrained; intrinsic; innerinhibitions: restraints; restriction; impediment; obstructioninn: a place of food, lodging, and entertainmentinnocence : the state of being unexposed and childish; lacking knowledgeinquired: queried; questioned; askedinquisitively: questioninglyIQ: intelligence quotient; a test created in the 1900s to measure the aptitude of children and young adults; how “smart” a person isinsane: crazy; irrational
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
insidious: evil; sinisterinsolence: brazenness; impertinence; frowardness; arrogance; contemptintact: whole; completeintangible : lacking tactility; unable to be touchedintegr i ty: honour; oneness; completenessintervals: a quantity of time or distanceintimacy: companionship; experienceintimated: hinted at; suggestedintr icate : detailed and complexinvest: infuse; ingrain; imbueinvoke: induce; produce; bring about; cause; conjureir idescence : having no true colour, whilst having multiple colours depending on how it is held or viewediron: tough and unbendingirony: paradoxisolat ion: loneliness; solitude
Jjack o ' the daniels : whiskeyjangles : worthless noise that is used for aesthetic purposedjet lagged: the condition that arises when a person travels rapidly across time zones and must allow the body to recuperate and adjust to the routines of that zonejingles : worthless noise that is used for aesthetic purposesjest: joke; hoax; gagJohn Adams: the fourth President of the United StatesJohn Calvin: the founder of Calvinism and the theory of predestination; he was originally Frenchjostle: bump; nudgejust: fair; meet
Kkeratin: the protein that makes nails, hair, the epidermis, and rhinoceros hornsker nel: the unpopped piece of popcornkey: crucial; necessarykindhearted: benevolent; gentleknave: varlet; scoundrel; low personknotty: having knots, the hard scars in woodkosher: acceptable; approved by the orthodox portion of Judaism
Llabel: to name; call; designatelacking: not havinglacquered: paintedlad: boylass: girl
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
lay of f: leave aloneleaden: heavy; bulkyleash: a tether to which an animal is fastened; chainlee : having the remarkable good fortune to have grown protected from the wind; shielded from the windleer ing: staring in an inappropriate and uncomfortable waylemon: an object with numerous disguised and undisclosed defects which is sold to a person as part of a scam; a yellow, acidic fruit that tastes well alone or when flavouring sconeslemonade: a drink made from lemons which is slightly sour and acidic and sometimes has pulp and lemon seeds in the mixturelens: the curved point through which light passes in the eyel ibido: life force; sex drivel icentiousness: immorality; lustl ife support: machinery used to extend the life of mortals in hospitalsl imbs: arms and legsl imel ight: fame; attentionlimp: flimsy; flopsy; nonrigidLinux: technically it is just a kernel for an operating system, but it is used erroneously with frequency to label the GNU/Linux operating system. In essence this system is digital communism. It belongs to the people. Anyone can access the source code and change it to their likings. It is free to use [for a definition of the word free as it applies to Linux check out www.gnu.org by anyone, unlike such proprietary systems such as Microsoft's Windows. In addition to freedom, it is reliable, quick , and I must emphasize this to all ye Windows users, reliable. I like it.l ipservice : pledges and vows and promise spake with no intent to be kept; liesl iquored up: drunken; intoxicated; plastered; wasted; hammeredlisted: leaned to one sidel ively: interestingloathed: disliked; despised; hated; dreadedlocale: area; region; placelonesome: lonely; weary; sadloon: a bird; a crazy personloopholes : a place of escape; a way to void a legality with a technicality like wording or omissionlop: cut offlout: knave; scoundrel; dastardly fellowlove: dearlovingly: gently and playfullylove locked: by love trapped; joined together in loveluminescence: light; radiance; glowlump: irregular amount and shape; bit; bunch; oaflur ing: alluring; seductive in a beckoning fashionlurk: menacingly wait in the shadows and sneak aboutlush: lavish; luscious; opulent; thriving; exuberant; abundantluster : one filled with lust and Epithumia
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Mma'am: lady; madammace: a protective spray that is meant to be sprayed into the eyes to wreak havoc upon an attackermage: magician; wizard; sorcerermagic : spells and other such whatnot; enchantmentsmaggoty: decomposedmajesty: grandeur; greatnessmaliciousness : evilmanaged: happened tomandate : order; demandmanifest: become present or evidentmanipulate : twist; subjugate; pressure; controlmanumit: free; unenslaveMar ines: the land unit of the Navy; they eat bullets (sometimes for breakfast)marred: flawed; blemishedmarry: indeed; yeamasochist: one who enjoys being abused and painedmassacred: slaughtered; slainmassage: a handson experience that breeds relaxation, hopefullymasticate: chew; munchmatador: an idiot, often Spanish, who would risk his life to stick a few measly spears into a bull and taunt the sacrifice with a red capemate: partner; spousemausoleum: a stone structure which rises above ground and contains raised sarcophagi inside; an elevated burial placemayst: may'mazonian: Amazonian; pertaining to the Amazons, a belligerent band of women who offered a breast in the pursuit of more accuracy in archerymead: a beverage made from honeymeddl ing: interferencemerely: only; just; simply; butMessiah: Savior; Christmete: dole; measure; judge; administermeticulous: cautious; carefulmethinks: I thinkmilky: pale; white; resembling milkmine: myminions: subservient goons who follow the bidding of a scheming, evil lord; employee; servant; henchmanmint: the only place where money is legally allowed to be produced. If such occurs elsewhere, then it is counterfeitingmiraculous: marvelous; astounding; amazingmire : swamps; entangling problemsmirth: joy; happiness
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
misdeed: crime; errormissteps: mistakes; blundersmistake: a person who commits a grievous errormistress : female; the feminine half of an adulterous affair; the feminine version of a master; a female one lovesmisunderstood: incorrectly gauged and interpreted; misconstrued; mistakenmobile : being able to moveMoctezuma: last Aztec ruler who Cortez killedmolest: twist; pervert; rape; altermommies: female figures who, before the time of cloning, brought offspring into existence in their wombsMona Lisa: a praised painting by da Vinci of some old ugly ladymonotony: unaltering repetitionmoonbeam: lightbeams from the moonMorays: Moray eelsmorn: morningmorrow: tomorrow, morningmosaic : intricately detailed art made of small pieces, such as rocksmount: fix; placemourning: grieving; sadMr. T: the nickname given to Anthony Walker his twelfth grade year by freshman Jay Cain due to his gruffness of speech and actionmuck: grime; goo; junkmud bog: a collection of the finest to watch trucks and tractors assay a journey through liquid mudmug: cup; glass; serving of liquidmundane: worldly; of this earthmuse: ponder; think aboutmuses: Greek sources of inspirationmusket:a “primative” gun used about the time of the American Revolution. I also associate it with the blunderbussmute: dumb; unable to speakmuti lated: maimed; slashed; mangledmutual: joint; sharedmutt: an impurely bred dogmyopic: nearsightedmyr iad: plethora; multitude; 10Kmystic: mystical; occult
Nnab: steal; grabnail s: finger nailsna ïve: innocent; ignorantnamesake: the origin of a namenarcissistic : one obsessed with beauty and vanity—there's a way cool Greek myth about thisnaught: nothing; zilch; zip; nada
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
Navy: United States Department of the Navy; an armed service branch with submarines, carriers, and planesnay: no'neath: beneathne 'er: neverneglect: become lax in maintenance and care; disregard; ignorenemesis: enemy; archrivalnevertheless: regardlessnimbly: with agility; spryly; cleverlyninjas: Japanese warriors of stealthnocturnal : of the nightnod: gesture of assent or friendly acknowledgment made with the headnonethereal : that which his not part of the ethereal plane, the inhabitance of ghosts and spiritsNorse: a Northman; ScandinavianNorth Pole: the point of this planet where any direction in which you look is south; where Santa lives; 23 odd degrees from the vertical; where magnets pointnote : mark; see; recognizenotor iety: fame and suchnumerous: many; more than a fewnut: crazed personnuzzle: lovingly brush against; snugglenymphomaniac: one fond of sex
OO: oh, only granderoaken: made of oak , a massive treeoaths: naughty words of an obscene nature; curse wordsobject ion: disapproval; challenge; remonstranceoblivion: nothingness; obscurity; the repercussion of forever, as things will be forgotteno 'er : overoff : cut off; removeoffensive : affronting; slightingoffwhite : pearly'oft: often; frequently; commonlyomniencompassing: surrounding everythingomnipotent: allpowerfulomniscient: allknowingopaque: black; not transparentorb: eyeorcas: killer whalesor ienteer: to journey by compassoutré : odd; eccentric; how things should beoverboard: over the side of a ship and into the wateroverlooked: the unconsidered; unnoticed
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overstudied: receptive of much too much study time that could be used for doing something useful, meaningful, and funoverwhelming: massive in force; excessively substantialPpace: rate; speedpacif ist: nonviolentpaddle: oarpagans: heathens; infidels; nonbelievers; those not Christianpainstr icken: containing or wracked with pain and afflictionpalimony: payments made to a former lover who one has been separated from by departure, not divorce, as one never married that personpall : darkness; curtain; gloompall id: palepangs: aches; stabs; anguishesPantheon: the group of memorable intellectuals and famous peoplepartake: take part in; share; participatepassé : unfashionable; overused; outmoded; datedpassing: very; ratherpassion: love; feeling; emotionpathetic : piteous; ruefulpatron: one who gives assistance and sponsors the works of anotherPelham: a small town in Southwest Georgia below Albany and above Thomasville and completely overshadowed by the bustling metropolis of Meigspenal : legalpenalized: punishedpenguin: a small, flightless bird that shuffles that the author singles out frequentlypent up: cramped; closed; confinedperceive: understand; see; realizeperception: sight; viewperchance: perhaps; maybeperdition: torment; hell; lonelinessper fect: unflawed; exemplary; best; most pristine; without defect; unprofaned; highestper i sh: dieperplexing: bewildering; confusingpertains: refers; involvesper use : readperversion: twistedness, esp. of a sexual naturepetite : delicately tinypet rock: a warm and loving stone that demands only that one does nothingphlebotomy: the science of bleeding and of removing bloodphony: a fake; a derogatory remark for such a type of personphysicals: an evaluation of the health of the bodyphysique: body, or the condition thereof
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
pickle : a bind; a dilemma; an unpleasant situationpitchest: blackest; darkestPiedmont: foothills; rolling hills; an Italian province of some powerpier: a manmade extension to the shore built of wood or stone which boats are moored to and loaded/unloaded from, and people enjoy fishing from them as they provide some vantage over fishing from the shore since they are some distance into the body of water.pi lfer: steal; pinchpil laging: lootingpimp: one who lets out women for a charge; a title of coolness and power for schoolboys to attainpiney: made of pine, a thinly tall coniferous treepinkscar red: having anomalous marks of the color pink that are easily differentiated from the restpity: sympathy for someone wronged or downtroddenplacebo: medicine composed entirely of sugar which treats ailments that people largely imagined or can cure mentally if they are deceived that they take a true medicationplane: existence; form of being; world; levelplanted: buriedplasma: blood; highly charged gasplaya: the ultimate womanizerplead: argue; maintainpleas: appeals; implorations; prayersplump: round and voluptuouspocked: pitted and scarred with a rash or depressions and holespoet: of the meaning of this word, I know notpolar bears : white behemoths who eat seal and live around the Arctic Circle; a group of men who taunt pneumonia by swimming in hypothermic watersPoles : Polish; Pollacks; Pollockspop station: a radio station that plays popular—bubble gum—musicport: rest; reside; harbour; anchorpostulating: guessing; supposingpotent: strongly concentrated; powerfulpotent ial : possible; what one is capable of; abilitiespout: sulkpraise: compliments; flattery; words of worship and esteempreach: tell; convert; lecturepreadult: pubescent; teenageprecursor: forerunner; harbingerpredestination: a fatalist theory that God had chosen who would be one of the elect and make it into heaven, and who [the majority] would burn in perdition. To ensure that His mind didn't change, one had to behave properly and frilllesslyprefab: prefabricated; preassembled and mass producedprefer : show partiality to; like bestprejudice: dislike, esp. stereotypical and racialpreoccupied: busy; engaged
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presence: company; proximitypressing: using force and heat to smooth wrinklesprey: victim; the desire of the predatorpr iest: minister; pastor; etc.pr imal : bestial; subhuman; instinctive; sinfully pleasing; earlypr int: facsimile copy of a paintingpr ithee : pray thee; beseech you; I pray that youproclaiming: announcing; declaringprocure: buy; purchaseprod: pokeprofane: desecrate; make vulgar; degenerate; debaseprofessed: stated; declaredprofound: deep and thoughtfulproffer: offer; to tender; proposeprom: a formal dance of the junior and senior years, which I have heard, on good report, means almost as much to a female as her weddingpromiscuously: casually; indiscriminatelypromptly: on timepromulgator: promoter; urger; pusher; backerpronged: forked; splinteredprophesying: telling the futureprostrate : kneeling; penitentprototype: initial, expensive modelproximity: closenesspsyche: mindpucker: to alter one's lips' natural state to extend and constrict them in order to make a kissing gesturepug: a small breed of ugly dogspuncture: piercePur itan: lousy, ultraconservative louts who ruined language and embraced Predestination; the reason this will never be read in Massachusetts
Qquesting: seeking; adventuring; gallivanting; voyagingQuincy: John Quincy Adams, the sixth President of the United Sates, a creatively named empireQNX: a realtime operating system by QSSL; it is fast, responsive, and not truly meant for desktop computers. It has a microkernel, for those of you who may care, although this reference will be meaningless years from now, since computers will eventually be replacedquatrain: stanza in poetry consisting of four lines (verses)quel led: placated; ended
Rrabid: having rabies, or hydrophobiaradar: bouncing sound waves off of objects to gather data on distance and speed, etc.; a surveillance technol
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ogyradiate: emanate; give offrage: angrily storm; seethe; beatragged: pestered and agitated; annoyed; picked on; deridedrange: stoverank: position; power; putrid filth of rotten decayreality: a cruel place; the truth; the real world; the undreamt staterealms: lands; kingdomsrebel l ion: the quiet state of disregard adolescents feel for their parents and other assorted lemon flavoured authorityreception: welcome; greetingreceptive : full of receptorsreciprocat ion: a return of the balanced and proper; requitalrecognition: awareness; cognizance; realization; acknowledgmentrectify: fix; remedy; correctred giant: a star that has become larger in girth, although a large part of it is empty. It undergoes a considerable amount of fusion until it can finally no longer combine elements and explodes. It is red and big, in a nutshellredo: do over againreflect: ponder; think back; consider; speculateregarded: judged; considered; feltregardless : despite; without any regardregression: devolution or return to a former statereindeer : ruminants from Lapland that are rumoured to fly, pull Santa's sleigh, and taste goodreinforce: solidly supportreining: having reinsrelatively: for the most part; pretty much; almostremain: amremedy: fix; solution for a problemremembrances : memories; recollectionsreminds: brings to the bubbling surface of the mindremorse : guilt; selfreproachrenounce: forsake; give uprepel l ing: repulsiverepent: beg forgiveness for a sin; change one's waysrecur r ing: chronic; repetitiveRepublican: pertaining to the normally conservative political party opposed to Thomas Jefferson's Democratic Partyretractions: abjurations; withdrawals; disavowalsretrograde amnesia: a loss of that which was stored temporarily in short term memory, such as thoughtsrevenge: the guilty pleasure of retaliating against one who wrongedrhetor ic : oddlooking word which is used to make a point; eloquent languagerhyme: a condition that exists should the last syllable of two words be similar or congruent in sound
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r inse: wash away; remove; ridr iot:the pastime of LA; a large; violent movement which purportedly is focused on an outrage, but really is just an excuse for lawlessness and destructionr ips: rends; tearr i squé : lewd; bawdy; naughty'r ithmetic: form of math; addition and subtractionr ivulets: thin streamsRomanesque: pertaining to Rome; typical of Roman architect here (i.e. arches,) society, technology, etc.Rome: center of one of the greatest empires of all time, which crumbled thanks to spoiled children and the concern for becoming a luxurious and comfortable society instead of its former, utilitarian self. Accepting anyone, including Goths, into its armies did not help either.roots: the bottom of hair near the scalp where growth occurs and color returns first after one dyes one's hairr uled: judged; decidedr ummaging: snooping; searching; ransacking; investigatingr umoured: said; suggestedr unic: written in angular, Germanic runes whose first letters are traditionally f, u, t, h, a, r, kr use : gag; joke; prankr ustic: rural; country
Ssacred: holy; worshipped; reveredsadist: one who delights in doling out painsalad: a vegetable conglomeration which is often identifiable as green, since lettuce is often the leading ingredientsanctioned: approvedsandbars : oft' submerged isles of sand in bodies of water that reflect where tides and currents have deposited debris; the green swathes near an ocean shorelinesane: rational; sensible; well; lucid; normalsans: without; lackingSanta Anna: a Mexican general from the 1840s who fought the Texans. A man of short stature, he was exiled to Cuba, and later returned to his country to war again much in the same fashion as Napoleon did thirty odd years earlierSanta Claus: a jolly old elf who, legend has it, brings presents to all the good little Gentile children on Christmas Eve.sarcus: fleshSAT: Scholastic Aptitude Test, a college entrance exam with seven sections consisting of verbal and mathematic questionssate: satisfy; assuage; quenchsatir ist: one who mocks through irony and sarcasmSavior: one who saves; JesusSaxons: Germanic people of Saxony; AngloSaxonsSchwartz: the energy and force of the classic Mel Brook's movie Spaceballs. Every Schwartz has an up side and a down side
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
scorched: burned; blasted; blighted; signed with heat and flamescraggly: sparse; oddscrew: a metal rod with a slash in one end and a curved inclined plane revolving around it which is used to fasten things togetherscr ibe : writeseams: where things are joinedsecret: hidden; undisclosedsel lout: one who becomes less fixated with messages and art and more with creating the tripe that the common vulgate would gladly pay forsens ible : logically sound and fitsensually: pertaining to the senses; pleasantlysentence : ruling; judgmentserenade: musical composition; songsergeant: a rank in the armed forces involving enlisted mensever: cutshall : should; mustshan't: shall notshel l : covering; outward appearance; a thin protection; illusion; exoderm; that which concealsshel tered: safe; secure; unreachableSheol : Hellshi l l ings: English coins of small worthshove: reject; push awayshred: small strip or bitshtick: gimmick; routineshudder: tremble; shake; shiver; quiver; quakeshudder ing: trembling, but in a more violently forceful mannershush: be quietshyeah: oh yeah!Siamese: joined together physicallyseize : steal; take's if : as ifsimper: a silly smirk made towards a superior to whom one is debasing themselvessincolored: drenched in sin; blacksip: drink a small quantitysi tuation: condition; circumstance; coincidencesketchy: vague; indistinctskim: read quickly searching for important pointsski rt: narrowly dodge; evade; missslake: quench a thirstslang: improper and corrupted usage of a language; the Southwest GA dialect of Englishslaughter : kill; butcherslay: kill; slaughtersleaze: something lowly, base, vulgar, or squalid
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
sleep: deathsl ice : chance; fortune; wealthslug: a nudibranch of slow speedslumber: sleep; restsmallclothes : undergarments; underwearsmallpox: a disease which would be largely eradicated shortly before my time due to massive vaccination made possible by the cow poxsmirk: smugly grinsmite: hit, esp. with a sword, etc., to implement some fashion of deathsmoothed: soothed; polished; flattened; refinedsmother: burke; stifle; suffocate; chokesnagless: having no snags or rough edgessnare : trapsnot: rude personsnuffs: halts; ceases; ends; kills; terminatessobre: sober; the state of not being intoxicatedsod: dirt; turfsoda bread: a very large and tasty loaf, if Irish soda bread is anything to go bysoil : ground; dirt; earth; rational thoughtSolar is : the sunsole: solitary; single; onlysolemn: serious; grave; sedated; sombre; staidsomnambulence : sleepwalkingsordid: twisted; demented; deranged; perversesoulmate: rumoured to be the ultimate love for one who is completely formed for one's personalities, idiosyncrasies, desires, and suchsown: planted; grownspangles : shiny, glittery object or personspastic : greatly overreactant and too emotional; never calmspawned: how ill things are created; sired; procreatedspecks: small dots and specksspeckles: like specks, only with an “le”spel l : time; while; periodspent: over; done; finished; terminated; no more; gonespider : arachnid; plotting and fearful personspilt: said; expressedspi r it: ghost; will; drivesplit: departure; rend; divisionspontaneously: suddenly; instantlysport: funspouted: told; spewed forthspur ned: rejectedspur red: moved; quickened; taken with
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
squeamish: easily nauseated or unsettled; daintysquish: mash; flatten; squashstalker : a person obsessed with anotherstandard: flagstar r yeyed: dreamy; idealstar tled: shocked; spooked; disturbedstately: magnificentstation: rank; positionstings: pains; bites; woundsSt . Nick: Saint Nicholas, see Santa Clausstark: empty; cold; alonestatue: a form lacking cognitionstranded: having only pedestrian means of travel; helplessstr ike : seem to be to; is perceived asstood up: to have a date canceledstorms: chaos; violencestraightforwardness: honesty; directnessstrands: lands; units of measurement of hairstrawber ry: a red fruit of the vine that is appealing to the taste buds when placed in sugar; strawberry blondestray: leave; wanderstreaker: one who runs around unclothed in publicstr ict: frilless; nononsense; authoritarian; disciplinedstr ife: hardship and burdensstr ipped: removed; relievedstirs: wakes; moves; rousesstronghold: bastion; fort; keep; citadelstubborn: obstinate; persistentstun gun: a defensive weapon that utilizes electricitysubl ime: splendid; grand; glorious; superb; resplendentsubter ranean: undergroundsubtly: deceptively; slyly; cleverly; craftily; ingeniously; being hiddensuccess: completion of a project; a desired end; fame and wealthsuckers : a lollipop; easily fooled and gullibly robbed peoplesuffer: experiencesummed: totaled; concentratedsundry: many; numerous; diversesuperhero: in these atheistic times, it is the hero and god combined into one form in order to protect ordinary humans with superpowerssuper nova: a poem by Iyan Igma; a red giant's explosion which lights the heavens, even during day. Nebulae are formed from suchsupposes : wonderssur face tens ion: the film of adhesive bond that makes water stick somewhat together instead of spreading
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
out. Place water drop by drop onto a penny to understand—the water will achieve some heightsurpass: achieve a higher state or level of ability; supersedesur render: capitulation; defeatsusceptible: open to; influenceable; controllableswar m: flock; congregateswarthed: clothed or swathed, but in a swarthy fashionswollen: enlargedswooning: fainting; losing altitude or strengthsubnonabnormal: taken literally, less than one that is not abnormal; one who loses oneself by attempting to fit in with great adamancy; one without the distinction of being one's own personsuppress : hold back; hinder; obstruct; oppress; represssycamore : a tall tree with pointy seeds that Zacheus climbed to view Jesus Christsystem: the rules and regulations that try to oppress the natural ways of things into order
Ttad: littletalent: skill; ability; forte; strengthtame: orderly and possessed with manners and a sense of what's proper; not wild; calm; rational; obedienttantr ums: spoiled fitstart: wench; woman of illrepute; promiscuous gal; sourtaunts: insults; derisionstedious: difficult; vexingtekno: dance oddly to techno musictemple: region of the head near and above the eartemptat ion: a luring desire which, when yielded to, is a sintenpenny nail : a nail made of considerable length which is used to fasten boards, and such, togethertequila: a Mexican alcoholic beverage which has a funny little worm in the bottom of the bottlethatch: a roofing material akin to strawthat 're: that arethee: youthieving: stealing; pilferingthine: yourthou: youthrobbing: pulsating; poundingthy: youtide : the ebbing and rising of the ocean which floods the beach at high tide and eventually will stop the earth's spin because of frictionTiffany: glass and lamps made by one Tiffany, such ornaments of wealth are often forgedti l l : untiltipped cow: a cow that has been bowled over in sleep by a raucous Southerner who has nothing better to do than startle chattel by ramming them'tis : it isT itanic: a disgusting, unending chicflic about a boat that sank in the early 1900s
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
toady: one who flatters the connectedtolerance : ability to withstand something, such as a drug or persontoll : fee, cost, pricetorture: torment; inflict pain; punish; esp. for knowledge or an actiontragic : sad; piteoustrampoline: a nylon, black surface fastened to a metal frame by thick springs upon which kids jump despite numerous injuriestranscend: to supersede and become more important than something else, esp. petty things like fear and allegiance; surpasstransgress: commit a transgression; sin; trespasstraverse : crosstreatment: that which is not a cure, only a temporary fixtrembles: to cause to tremble; convulses; to shake slightly and rapidlytrespass : crime; sin; misdeedtr ivial : meaningless; small; worthless; ordinary; laughabletr uly: without a doubt; verily; truthfully; really; honestlyturbulent: violent; stormy; tumultuousturmoil : chaotic disarrayturquoise: a bluegreen semiprecious stonetype: kind; group; classification
Uuncouth: rough; coarse; rude; vulgar; grossunderclassmen: freshmen, sophomores, juniorsundue: unnecessary; unjust; improper; inappropriateunending: perpetual; interminableunfeel ing: stoic; unemotional; uncaring; distancedunfortunate: grievous; distressing; lamentableungodly: awful; abhorred; wicked; profaneuniversal ity: appealing to all; pertaining to all; completenessuniverse: the collection of afflicted existence and creationunlovable : unable to be loved; odious; repellent; meunmatched: unequaled; unparalleledunstoppable: formidable; unbeatableuntouched height: gloriously unprofaned; cosmic; superbly unreachableunwitting: unknowing; unsuspecting; one to whom something is unbeknownstuppity: snobby; audacious; haughtyurea: acidic protein found in urineur ine : a human byproductuseful : having a useutterly: completely; insanelyutters : speaks
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Vvaccination: cure; treatment; preventionvacuous: empty, though notvague: unclear; indistinct; questionable; faint; blearyvain: an annoying quality of some who are centered around their own beautyValhalla: the Norse mythological city in which the brave and the gods livedvapors : that which one consists of; conditionvast: large; expansivevegetable : comatose; thoughtless and incapacitatedvehemently: with great passion or emotionVenice : an Italian city of some report that has a goodly number of canals and for a millennium was the center of importance. But all things change.verge: brinkver i ly: truly; yes; assuredlyversati l e: serving multiple purposesvespers : prayersvestige: trace; remnant, relicvibrance: vivid and rich in passion and colorVietnamese : an Asiatic languageVikings: fierce Scandinavian warriors and sailors of the first millennium ADvir us: an entity that is neither alive nor inorganically deadvisage: face; imagevisions: goals; dreamsvital : necessary and importantvital i ty: life; energyvixens: girls, esp. attractive or seductivevoid: a place with no form of description; nothingness; the absence of everythingvolley: barrage; torrent of ammunition and pain; esp. arrowsvow: promise; oathvulgars : the commoners; the masses
WW: George W. Bush, sadly the 43rd President of the United States and proof that drugs do destroy the mindwafted: waved; fanned; suffused lightlywail : whine shrilly; crywakeful : conscious; awakewaltz: a type of dance done to music which has only three beats per measurewaltzed: came; marched; sauntered; briskly walkedwane: decrease; become less significantward: one under another's custody, watch, and carewave: gesticulation of the hand signifying hellowaver: hesitate; be of an unstable or unsure mannerwax: increase; become greater
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
waylay: ambushweary: tired; exhaustedwed: joinedwee: smallwench: woman of illreputewend: walk; tread; take; glumly saunterwhence: from wherewherein: where, in whichwhilst: whilewhine: emit distress in highpitch; whimperwhip cream: an edible food topping that is white and full of empty calorieswhither : to wherewhom: the version of who that most people never usewhore: wench; easylover; harlot; trampWill iam Penn: English noble who became a Quaker and founded Pennsylvaniawindily: wildly fluffed as if by the wind or some other chaotic forcewindshield wipers : the rods that wipe liquid from off of the glass window through which drivers must see to drivewinos: a politically incorrect designation for alcoholics, especially of those who strictly follow that religionwisdom: knowledge; insight; truth; shrewdnesswise: prudent; smartwisping: forming wisps, or thin rivulets of particles that will dissipate and disappearwit: intelligence; sense; acumen; humour; satire; reparteewithal: therewith; besideswithdrawal: a period of shakes, nervousness, and other such unpleasantries after quitting a drugwither: lose water and shrivel up; lose vitalityWittenburg Castle: where Martin Luther was holed up during that time when he was not loved by Charles V and the Popewolfed: greedily and ravenously eaten in a hurried fashion; gobbled; gorgedwonder: ponder; marvel; bemuse; amazementwont: used to; accustomed; intendedwoo: court; romancewretched: evil; dark; twisted; sinfulwr ithed: squirmed; thrashed; contortedwrought: performed; created; forgedwry: wrenching; bitter; corrosivewussy: an intimidatible person that avoids confrontations and is hassled and bullied; one who won't “stand up for” oneselfWyrd: destiny; fate
Yy 'a l l : you all, a rather Southern contractionye: you
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
yea: yes; truly; assuredlyyearn: desire; want; pineyie ld: the harvest of effortsyoyo: change rapidlyZzombies: mindless followers
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The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma
A Commentary(Answers to the Interview That Will Never Occur )
On the Prel iminary Pages
The cover says a lot. [The original cover says, “Ready to be consumed.”] The final line at the bottom mocks consumers, which pleases me. I intend[ed] to have a stark black cover with the title in silvery lettering, “by” in a light gray, and my name in gold. The last line should be written in brilliant red. It's not that I have anything against artists, it's just that every book has cover art, and it all looks the same. I'd like to distinguish myself by having none, for the words within should be the only thing of any worth. It's much like advertisers today. Sex is used to sell a great deal and eventually people may stop buying something without a sexual plug just because of that alone. But then, humans will never tire of sex.
As the title page suggests, this is a gestalt work. That is not to say it is fascinated with a slightly out of favour branch of psychology, but more to say that the sum of its parts are worth more together than lone and separated. Together it is worth more than the sum of its components. It is meant to be read front to back , which will become even more apparent in the sixth and seventh drafts when large holes begin to fill.
Jesse is my stepfather who died in 1994 of throat cancer. He is the only father figure I've had, and since I may never get the chance to do a second work , I'm dedicating the first to him. This is also why I have dedicated parts and sections to various people.
Does everyone like my disclaimer? It is true.
POETR Y
The Chapters“Lacking a Sensible Title” is a catchall section for sexual, drugrelated, and various other such
stuff. I tried to get all of that out of the way in one unhealthy dosage so that the work could evolve and all Puritan readers would get offended and leave.
“Why Angels Scream” is a darker version of “Lacking a Sensible Title,” as anyone can clearly see.
“As Things Should Be” is a section with the what if poems, the wouldn't that be funny ones, and the geegollyIwouldalikedta see or know or ponder stuff like this tripe. It is mainly full of sarcasm and such. Please note this is not a historically correct section; I've not been stood up yet.
“As Things Are” is a sometimes melodramatic collection of viewpoints of certain things.“Eye of the Beholder” is where I'm going to put some artwork which, as I am unable to draw,
will have to be done through descriptive language. It is also a section concerning how I see certain things.
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“Urea” is my love section.“To You” is a sonnet sequence. Or, it would be if I could be said to compose sonnets. I have the
asymmetrical forms and I think I lack a volta on most of the ones here. It is not exactly about anyone, the events you see, but it is inspired by one. The skin colour, sullenness, dark tresses, and such are taken from one bonnie lass, Katrine Templeman. The general story, to date, as it is only nominally completed and in a framework state, is that a guy is bored and decides to ponder her and her traits. He slams her at first, then vows to never say he loves her; he immediately does. Things go swell, until he realizes how hopeless a romance with such a worthless lout as he would be. He bids her fair hunting with the other males, for maybe one will love her as she deserves. But then he realizes that he does want her, and just imagines the love and events in his mind.
“All My Friends” is where I gather odes and dirges and everything in between to mourn and praise and be mediocre concerning my friends and acquaintances.
“All Things Great and Small” is another catchall portion, but it is empty. It was only newly created.
“Haiku's to No One” is great. I love this section. As it currently is, it is one poem with each stanza as an Iyan Igmalized haiku. Each stanza is named only for reference. It is about an imaginary girl who has some rather odd traits. But notice in the descriptions how some stanzas are really safe statements, but don't describe anything. They speak of being proportional, or however tall that might be and such. It is perhaps the most misunderstood section, but only because of the author's inability to master English.
“Travels” is something of a conglomeration of actual travels and sights as well as the most important things ever, dreams. Did you really expect me to say women? <Chuckles warmly>
“Weed” is the sadly lacking nature/natural world/cosmos section. I've got some really great things to put in it that I have not completed.
“Pelham Renaissance” is a black hole. It doesn't have the works it needs. It will eventually talk of Pelham, how the author tried to stage a Renaissance, got frustrated and went on a menagerie trip around the country with the core of the Renaissance, got even more depressed because he knew the arts were dead, and then finally assays to convince his friends to join the armed forces.
“Perfection” is an odd perfection category. It describes perfection, in a classic and truthful way, as well as senseless things such as couches.
“Social Ills” is brimming with sarcasm. It involves itself with the ills and faults of the world.“Seasons of Christianity” pokes and prods at religion. It lacks most of the definitive works.
Sigh. I'm sure the world will like it much more when “Examination” gets out of my head and onto paper.
“SinColored Glasses” is not as forceful and clear as I wish at this moment. It became a catchall, and really shouldn't have. It is intended to be a section concerning how one could see the world should sincolored glasses be donned. This is much in the same fashion as rosecolored glasses. Maybe next go round I can fix this.
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“Crime to Smile” is well, duh.“Spectacles for Love” is a largely complete story of someone who fell in teenage, mad love, broke
up, and went through the stages of loathing, sadness, and such. It contains too many pieces of my older work which I could not force myself to throw away or push into the BSides. Most of them have been put into new context now.
“Loathe” is a childish section.“Lessons from History” if one should read the notes and idea pages for this book , then one
would notice how large a role history and events play in my life, and thus my writings. I have yet to write the introduction poem for this section, and most of the great works.
“Sellout” concerns itself with my book and writing, and various feelings thereon.“Secret Agenda Man” is about me, how I think , and why I do some of the things I do. Depress
ing really. Not done.“Doors” is the final chapter of the Poetry section. It's a farewell and goodbye and it ends with
a positive outlook on the Navy.
Notable Poems●“Lacking a Sensible Title”: way back when when this was in the green notebook that served as the transition between the second and third draft, I only had one poem per page. Thus it was that I was able to put something blah on top, and one would read it and feel blah. Then, turn the page and there was “Nature Lover.”●“Nature Lover”: meant for cheap thrills and such. I've always loved watching one's expressions, especially at the end of the first and fourth stanzas when realizations set in. It basically involves how one guy loved nature intimately and then was arrested for it. He was not incestuous, for doing something with a family member is sick.●“Fiend”: was written after Nature Lover. More cheap thrills, only involving aliens and abductions and impregnation. Woohoo!●“Graveyards”: not really how I feel. I just write these things, you see.●“Dear Freud”: I long was against the inclusion of this title in the work , but I jut said, “hey, why not?” Analyze here means psychoanalyze, libido is the sex drive and life force, and envy refers to penis envy.●“Toilet Seats”: written entirely to say “I had to train my wife to put up the toilet seat.”●“Entrance Exam”: just a comment that there's no educational requirement for entrance into heaven. At the end, one must realize that there's a gate, but no wall around heav'n in this poem.●“Call of the Wild Viking”: ah, it's good to be Norse.●“Heavily Medicated”: somewhat true hyperbole, though nowhere as bad as it sounds.●“On Monday”: nymphomaniac guppies and such. Quite amusing. Girls think it's pointless. Most of my stuff is. It is only written for REALLY cheap thrills.●“Regularities”: I don't take physicals every other week , but if I could have pulled off the poem
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how I originally wanted, it would have been right up there with “Nature Lover.”●“Donkey on My Thigh”: I was told that I had something against Santa after a Mormon friend read and disliked it. Oh well.●“Why Angels Scream”: was inspired by a nightmare involving angels and anthrax. It is part one of a ballad trilogy.●“The Goodwill of Death”: The Original was lost, and I really loved it, so I tried to rewrite it from memory. Then, I found the original. They are both here.●“The Gunslinger:” Dude shoots himself with dirt, it annoys him to such a degree he kills himself.●“Invitation”: Aren't there just some people this would be pleasurable to do this to? Yes, there are.●“Eibmoz”: zombie spelled backwards.●“Hypocrisy, Revengeance Thereon”: I dislike hypocrisy. Note, this is not a true story. Very little is.●“All Their Wildest Dreams”: Someone ever say, “Remember me when you're rich and famous?” It annoys me, because they want money, and I don't. I do hope this becomes evident in the reading. Don't scoff at my tiki mansion. Tiki is good.●“Venules”: originally inspired by looking at Nikki's wrists. Written in jest to her. The story: guys slits girl's wrists, puts her arms around him, and holds her while she bleeds down him.●“Let's Burn Venice”: It wouldn't work. There's too much water.●“Satire Is the Way of Life”: a spoof of Columbus.●“Commit Murder”: Wouldn't it be nice if one could commit murder into an asylum until he was healed?●“Enlightenment”: Hindu eats cow because his family pays them more attention.●“Fatalist by Nature (Pacifist at Heart)”: a Viking was unsure of the Wyrd that governed his fate, and so he wrote in runes a passage very confirming of fatalism. John Calvin found it later on. Then, in England on a raid, he dissented and wrote a propacifism passage, which was found by William Penn. It ends with Penn and Calvin rolling over in their graves and the Viking is slugging it out as all the good Northmen do up in Valhalla.●“The Conquistador's Beard”: The Aztecs crush the Spaniards, but take a few prisoners. These prisoners happen to have smallpox. Well, they all die just as the calendar lifted from the Mayans predicted, but the good news is no Europeans come to take over the New World.●“A Cool Drink”: one of my sister's favourites because of the general flow and diction. Dude brushes his teeth before drinking water so he'll not pollute the taste.●“Mommas”: The first stanza should be read as a thesis statement. Each line introduces a stanza.●“Apology to the Underappreciated”: A fear that I'll not be able to rest well for not appreciating mother enough.●“On Making Beds”: Why should one, when one will mess it up slightly later?●“Nuclear Fiend”: This is me, guys. I was going to go into the Nuclear Field of the Navy. I am a pacifist, you see, and destroying atoms is the only type of violence acceptable, since one cannot re
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ally destroy atoms, just change the state.●“Portraying Disrespect: an American Scene”: It's a picture of America that is described within.●“A Quiz”: It was written for a friend. Perhaps the only thing wrong with it was that I left off a tenet about how it's usually small groups of closely knit people.●“Face in Curtains”: And lo, there did I look up from my paper to see my face in the curtain, and I gained inspiration from seeing the general outline, including the impression of glasses.●“When You've Slept”: an oldie I love.●“Bitterness Ruins”: fails to capture what I wished, for it was just a thought that was s'posed to be inspiring about bitterness for a collection of mortals organized behind the moniker “Bitter Ruinness.” It's a shame I could not deliver.●“Surreal Killer”: the prostitute is “dreams.” The cruél serving page is an alarm clock.●“Urea”: Perhaps the most romantic thing I have ever written. I love it. Urine is relatively pure.●“Elf:” Eugene likes it because of the subject matter. There's a line within which states something about the elf becoming weaker when separated from her tree which I need to attribute to Piers Anthony. It was from one of his Xanth novels, wherein he mentioned how elves can't live away from trees. Or something like that.●“Venice”: An old, and sometimes, favourite. I despise it at times, although if I am in the right mood, I rather appreciate it. Yes, I know it is in here twice. I accidentally copied it twice in the third draft, so I intend to do so from here on out to see if anyone notices.●“Vegetable Love”: Love is like a comatose state.●“Waylay”: Considered by some to be the best thing I've written. I'm not sure.●“Digestive Processes”: Just brings a smile to my face. There are some people one would like to “gobble up.”●“An Idyll Goddess. . .”: A country goddess, originally intended for the same person whom “Pampers” is about.●“Smooching”: A lad wished not to hear a female bicker, thus he kissed her until after death, well into eternity.●“To You”: Favourite line: “Sadly, I have nothing better to do, than be insignificant to you.” It's just an introduction to the sonnet sequence “To You.”●“Shour Drapes”: The question is, will the lass, when she leaves her sullenness, be the same person she always was, or will she be happier as a new one?●“Golden Tips”: The light is just touching and illuminating her finger tips where this is written. Inspired by a real life bus ride.●“Olivia”: Say “I Love You” in a really corrupted fashion, and you have this name. “Uh luva ya.” Maybe you just have to be Southern.●“Olive”: Her skin is oliveish.●“Weakening”: Just a statement of how when one becomes attached, one acts differently, softer, and protectively.
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●“Vanguard”: Everyone misinterprets her, but the lad's unable to stand up for her.●“Fleece”: Katrine has this white wool sweater she is fond of wearing.●“Unrestrainéd Passion. . .”: I had just listened to “Black Dog” by Led Zeppelin. Hence, it was natural for me to write in the couplets which I am fond of. It just sounds much better than ABBA and ABAB.●“Addiction on the Mind”: Written just to say: “I could easily get over you, I think , if I but ever wanted to.”●“Groggy Mumblings”: I love watching people read it, they anticipate a naughty action. It only operates on the nasty habit I have of answering questions when asleep.●“!280x1024”: That's the screen resolut ion I run my CRT monitor at.●“Moors”: Sir Thomas Moore wrote Utopia.●“Pebbles/Sri Lanka”: Written because I thought it would be neat if the stars looked at humans as we look at them, as well as behaved as foolishly.●“Will”: One is only loved in death.●“So”: A defense of “so,” the word everyone implores one not to use. Bah.●“Haiku's for No One”:
Sweetness: What her voice is likeSilk: Her hairConditioner: HairPools: EyesLips: LipsA Taste: LipsTegument: Skin (From Integumentary System, AKA the skin.)Thermal Need: SkinLlama: NameCamel: A pun of llama (Spanish for name.)Indecencies: ToesNecking: NeckObjectivity: BosomThailand: LegsA Doll: HeightA Right to Bear: ArmsObelisks: ArmsWashington: TeethSemiVery Precious: TeethSinging How She Does: Nose—some people sing nasallyLicking? Good: Fingers—from the Beastie Boys' song “Finger Licking Good”Placement: Hands
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JoJo: Back—from “Get Back” by the Beatles. Jojo was the guy from the opening verse who was ordered to “get back , get back , get back to where you once belonged.”Maybe: If she did exist. . .
●“Mendeleev”: The figure died of exposure to the elements.●“Deflowering Fields”: Not quite what some expect when reading the title. I've been told that it's a great poem, but that some would find it “kinda girlie.”●“Ruins of the Present Day”: Everything will decay and fall eventually.●“An Abbey Row”: I say I'd like to be buried there [Westminster Abbey], but the odds are against it.●“Weed”: Some read this one thinking it's about something different.●“Split Apart”: It's about lovebugs.●“Supernova”: This was once in a contest, in which it placed second. I was told it was the best poem, but the judges were unsure if it was bout the stars or love. How do you like that? I finally write something straightforward, and someone wants to read into it. No one had ever sought out meaning before.●“Meteors Must Land Somewhere”: I am intensely proud of this one.●“Pelham Renaissance”: It should be read in overlapping sections, not by stanzas. Such as: “That is cut to close to home./On the range where distinction is” should be read in such a fashion that one catches the pun of “Home on the range.” or maybe this is better: “With art and music and a book/Or two from the heart of Operations where I dwell” should be read as “With art and music and a book or two from the heart.” and then “The heart of operations where I dwell.”●“Omnivenicient”: as I began brainstorming this for Mrs. Buck , I realized that everything relates to Venice. It's just like how everything can be blamed on a woman. It's a scene from lunch at my high school.●'Eyece': it's satirical.●'Not Just a Name:” about autographs, and those who obsess over them.●“Generation of Suckers”: I swear my peers are gullible.●“Cereal”: Another badly misinterpreted work of mine. I let people read it, and they were thinking it was about explicit sexual acts. I swear, I don't know how they thought the fork was involved. The subject was literally eating women, and if murder isn't a malady of society, what is.●“Seasons of Christianity”: It is remarkable to me for its similarity to Lehi's dream, which I'd not yet read.●“The Falling of the Leaves”: Contains one of my [past] views, that one will have to forget memories so that depression and sin does not follow one into heav'n.●“Services”: I sin everyday; the person in this only sins on Sundays and Wednesdays—but for a good reason.●“Jesus the Polygamist”: Most people read the title and are offended. Oh well.●“Dreaming the Sweet Dream”: Suicide.
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●“Navy”: Written right after I joined; my friends were pretty much kicking me.●“Little Girls”: Written through the perspective of how a friend sees later on.●“Breaking Up”: I wrote this a long time ago, and it felt weird to say. It seems normal now.●“How Do I Loathe Thee?”: A bit of childish metaphysics.●“Eva Rhea”: should be thought of as Everyone.●“Illegitimate Father”: Written to mine own, despite how Will interpreted it. ●“Hamiltonian Perversions”: Just some basic beliefs that I'll never be able to implement.●“How Truly Weird It is”: I came to the realization that it is odd that someone else could see what I write and breathe life into. I could exist somewhat in that way, but isn't it just plain odd?●“Wary”: I don't want to influence anyone.●“Whispers”: At night nothing annoys me as much. The closest thing possible is when people crunch chips.●“It Started in December”: My Life.●“Dead People”: Can't stand them. They made me write “Waylay.”●“Inkéd Blood's Transpiration”: I chew on pens.
PROSE●“Bananas”: The reason I say, “Bananas are the root of all EVil!”●“Messy Breakup”: In its original form, it made people wonder if it was a true story of something. I was like, duh, I'm still living here. I personally enjoy it.●“Death Rides a Green Bicycle”: It's amazing how inspiring a Green Roadmaster can be.●“A Tall Smooth Shaft”: The introduction to a forthcoming fantasy work involving the orc, who shall remain nameless.●“The Naked Mole Rat and the Penguin”: The original fable.●“Scales”: Notice a hint of WWI?●“In the Off Season. . .”: The sequel to “The Pimp and the Pheromone Rose Garden.”●“Letters and Epistles”: Pheleppi represents an old me; Teverance just bashes things I write or wrote. He is the new me.●“Lewd Reference Dictionary”: an attempt to make this book unsuitable for children as well as get excommunicated. It's a shocking piece, although the definitions aren't.●“Personable”: the basis of some forthcoming autobiographical stuff.
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Thoughts on Slightly Demented
After having read through this some 7 years later, I must admit I only had two thoughts, "I wrote this?" and "I wrote this?" One is embarrassed and the other is proud. "Nature Lover" and such toilet humour, while making me giggle, were kind of embarrassing. I guess that I've become more of a prude in the last few years. It's ironic; I've become something of the Puritan that I had previously set out to keep far from this book. Many of my beliefs, especially religious, have changed or solidified. I'm no longer proHamiltonian nor do I believe the event is greater than the process, as "It's the Goodbyes that Count" suggested. We'll see how much I've changed in another decade.
Reading this from the perspective of several more years made me start to understand why even the weird people at school worried about me. It's quite apparent that many of these things were written by a 16 & ¾ to 18 ¼ year old. It was written in my junior and senior years of high school. I think that further work was done, because I remember a couple of things that aren't found here. The draft that it was taken from was done on April 21, 2001.
Just about everything in the Prose section and beyond is an eyesore. Truthfully, I only remembered 2 of the poems before the flood of memories came back: Urea and Waylay. I have long quoted the opening lines of Urea, and was rewriting it when Pat told me that he had the manuscript. I had written the following lines:
Urine is like my love for you,Relatively pure,And hopefully over timeThe purity of this love can endure.I only love you forYour face, elbows, hips.I only want you forYour knees, ears, lips
I wonder what on earth possessed me to write some of the following ones: Count, Comte, Earl; Lemon Dependence; Living with a Toe Nail; Kernel; Strange Things with Camels; and anything with fear or forgive in the title; and their ilk , to name a few.
These are some of my favourites: Urea; The Conquistador's Beard; Satire is the Way of Life; On Making Beds; Sycamore; Toilet Seats; Entrance Exam; Call of the Wild Viking; No Controversy; Consensual Fornications; Portraying Disrespect: an American Scene; Oh Fudge; Eye of the Beholder, When You've Slept; Vegetable Love; Cold Sins; Digestive Processes; S. Mooching; the To You sequence; Travels; My White Love; Deflowering Fields; Geneses; Joshing? Me?, A Philiac's Metamorphoses, Haiku's for No One, Envy Me, Fools; Artificial Drinks; SinColored Glasses; Hamiltonian Perversion; Illegitimate Father; Disdain from Wittenburg Castle; Procreatory Success;
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Will; The Jest; You've Created; Love Like Tow'ring Hands; The Zenith of Oblivion; Twos; Some on My Eighteenth Year; Omnivenicient; A Valediction to Innocence; No One Ever Notices; and It's the Goodbye's that Count.
PS: It grows on you each time you read it. Either that, or you just get desensitized.
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ABOUT THE ABOUT THE AUTHORI wanted a lively and interesting one, so I let my friends spread lies and rumours and such.
Many people still owe me one.Please forgive the conciseness and mistakes, I write this shortly before prom while having to
hold a niece.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Iyan Weirdo Igma was born at an early age in a taxi cab parked outside a hospital in Jacksonville, Florida. He is his own grandpa. In his time, he's been a brother, uncle, son, grandson, gang member, author, ogremage, Lonedork , Zombiegeek , Furby Slayer, piece of Fierce Guano, the AntiChrist, cult leader, cult member, anticult activist, stripper, cross country runner, and a high school cheerleader. Did I mention a stripper? He plans to continue writing as he pursues a career in the Navy. (That's right, this guy has control of cruise missiles,) and will run for the Presidency in 2028. He hates Teletubbies. He loves getting forwards! Here is his email address Paladin178 @hotmail.com . You can call him at _ _ _ 3961. Be Afraid.Be Very Afraid.
—Peyton “The MAGICAL Manatee” H., author's friend.
This first tome by Iyan Igma is long overdue. A decorated Naval officer of World War II, Korea, and Vietnam, he has a wealth of experiences concerning the human spirit. In between his stints in the military, Iyan became a successful actor, staring in avantgarde films such as Too Hot To Handle and My Right Hand. It was in a TV role though, where he gained his greatest fame, as the voice of Kitt on the internationally renowned Knight Rider. Growing tired of the fame caused by Hollywood success, Iyan retired to a rutabaga farm near Bismark , SD, after being named People's Sexiest Man of the Year in 1985. He remains there to this day, providing the people of the world earthy vegetables and contemplating the mysteries of the universe, as well as his naval.
—Christopher S., author's AP history teacher
And then there was Iyan, raised by wolves, he suckled the sweet nectar of the beast and now roams the streets at night, howling at the moon. But don't ask him of this, for he shall surely deny such an accusation.
As a child his brawn was matched by none. Often, he would be found bench pressing the jungle gym, while a score of children played atop its metal bars. Physicians, however, saw danger in such a child. After all, what would stop such a creature from merely breaking child safety caps on medication and commencing to dispense it to the neighborhood toddlers.
Therefore, in a dark , dank laboratory, somewhere beneath Colorado, they strapped down the
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young beast, named Iyan, and began converting brawn to brain. But something went horribly wrong, and now his brain travels aimlessly about his body, sometimes seeking shelter in a foot or an earlobe.
So, while attempting to weaken the monstrosity, the scientists accidentally created a superhuman unable to be killed. For, though a headshot would kill any normal human being, there is no guarantee Iyan's brain will be in his skull at that time. (Also, his huge regenerative powers will have him unscathed within seconds.)
So, beware all you mothers! Hide your dogs and lock up the children, because, out there, somewhere, Iyan ROAMS!
—Michael T., author's friend
Iyan Igma was born in the hills of Austria where he spent many glorious childhood days reenacting various scenes from The Sound of Music. He later moved to the United States as an illegal alien. Iyan settled into the career of a professional stalker. His life took a turn for the worst after being arrested for breaking windows at acclaimed actor Yul Brenner's home. Once he was released, Iyan started his own cult, which was centered towards Mulder and Scully's relationship. Today, Iyan is a happy 40 year old who is married with 10 kids, and who resides in some old leper colony.
—Katy G., Yul Brenner Stalker Extraordinaire, author's friend
What can one say about Iyan? I don't want to say too much, for fear the FBI might show up. . . Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Anyway, what can one say about Iyan? He is the father of twelve very, very, very unusual and demonic children. He is a raging alcoholic, and, in my opinion, he has a thing for the Linux penguin. But in all, Iyan might be a very strange guy, but if you look under the thick glasses, past the thirtyseven guys in his head. . . one might find a normal person. No, no, just joking. Iyan is as weird as they come. . . But who is to say that he is not the most normal and cool one among us?
—Michael L., deranged psychopath and, therefore, the author's proud friend.
Thend
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Adult Poetry & Short Fiction:1. The Dementia of Iyan Igma (2008)2. The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma (2008)3. More Heresies from Iyan Igma (2009)4. Blather (2009) [Omnibus]5. 笑玲 Smiling (2009)*6. Rorschachs (2009, hopefully)**7. in significance (2009)
Children' s Books:1. My Sun (2009)2. How To Get Rid of Monsters (2009)3. Mommy's Tired (2009)4. Wizard Tears (2009)5. The Turtle in the Millpond (2009)6. Yaatoocheefenokee (2009)7. Special Delivery (2009)8. A Mother's Love (2009)9. Assorted Silliness (2009)
Children's Books for Adults:1. There's a Conservative Outside My Window (2009)
Fantasy Books1. Leaving Belucía (2009)
Cookbooks1. It Probably Won't Kill You...(2009)
Visit ww.iyanigma.com for the latest news and free downloads.
*Smiling is a selection of some of the happier moments from the first three poetry books.**Rorshachs is an illustrated selection of the dark and twisted tales from the first three poetry books.