The Sun and The Moon

#1 of poetry just something i wrote awhile ago, and thought i'd post it. there is happiness that morning is, where the sun and the moon come and go. in the eye of man, for we are many, both are at opposite ends of the globe.

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Shed for the Fallen

#1 of poetry one of my poems. shed for the fallen life is not a thing to last more so for those loved that have passed. but then, there are the days of terramor, land of the heart where they survive forever more.

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The Night

#1 of poetry very old but i have a whole book of poems to share mine as well start with the old stuff :) i have been one acqatented with the night i have walked out in the rain and back in vain i have walked down the saddest city lane i have passed

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Pingas Burrito - Poem for Solarian

#2 of free poetry for others this was a poem written for solarian based on his request on this journal: http://www.sofurry.com/view/390983 his request was: "pingas burrito ching chong potato!" you get what you asked for.

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Child's Play

#13 of poetry as seen in my writer's blog: http://sirenscoast.wordpress.com/2013/06/06/childs-play-and-writing-exercises/ _ **child's play** _ _she learns to dance_ _he learns to play_ _the two in-sync_ _and continue the display_ _she keeps in time_

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i am wyrm (first draft, 10/15/11)

My poetry, my blood is balefire, my heads are many, my flesh is poison, my mind is hate, my heart is oblivion, my soul is corruption, i am the destruction of all, the end of times, the crash of the heavens, the death of the world, i am apocalypse incarnate

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Re-vigurrr =3

Short poem, poetry, opinions, possibility define what is told, what is a tale, & what is truth all it's own question what is visible, what isn't, & what is known listen to what change can do listen for what a life lesson learned has made a breakthrough

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Shapely Cow

#26 of poetry make of this poem what you will.

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Hurt

#3 of poetry don't bleed, hold the bleeding my love, the tears tear through these seams, god's black hand has no blood, and now i awake from this dream, my love, your body so cold, quiet and silent, so blue, my hand empty, nothing to hold,

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Old Wounds

Only he didn't call it poetry," he added grimly, "he called it prophecy." that was getting to be a lot to take in. "holy shit!" the skunk exclaimed. "he made her poetry into a _religion_?" he shook his head.

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Over you

Alright me and my friend are working on poetry together so there might be a little spam of random poems. xd at least until i finish a big story i'm working on. i thought i was over you i truly did but then i saw you with her.

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