BiWeekly Poetry contributions

[Mellick]

Hi, i'm andrew. I've been a poet since about last week... and now for your pleasure, i'm going to contribute poems for you guys twice a week. Feel free to contribute or express your own opinions.

[Mellick]

Stewie

Your eyes are like fire,
Dazzling, Deep, and Dirty,
Rawr.
But I must pace myself because fire burns.
Just like my heart... for you.

Your lips are moist when you lick them,
The saliva dripping down your chin,
Together, we'd make beautiful kin.
Our lives are like hemp.

Ow! My love hits me.
Across my sexy knee,
I love you forever...
And leave you never...


-Andy

The inspiration for this one, was this kid in my math class said he was more Cyrano de Bergerac than i was... so i wrote him a love poem to prove to him that i was super sensitive.

[unicycleboy]

lol i feel like putting i think the only poem ive ever written.

What is this feeling
it sticks like something lodged in your throat
Worse than insomnia
Everlasting sadness that doesnt disserpear
Why wont it leave me?
My soul is in pain over something so trivial
I long to feel it
The way the eyesight goes blurry
The mouth starts to twinge
And then
All the sadness and emotions are free
I long for that moment

The End, sorry if its alittle sad.

Trev

[Sofa]

one little
two little
three little unicycles
four little
five little
six little unicycles
seven little
eight little
nine little unicycles
the circus must be in town

[Murde Mental]

Ok guys, I'm not sure if you're ready for this but I also write poems on my spare time....unfortunatly these poems do not appeal to the mass public...

but they're not as bad a Vogon poems lol!

[Mellick]

Murde, are your poems in french cause i know Mont. is like half-half, and since french is the language of love... i would love some french love poems. I think my next poem will be french with an english translation... and so c'mon, share...

[Murde Mental]

I'll try to come up with a french one if you want.
But for the time being I've got a really juicy one in the working...

[Worminton]

Originally posted by Mellick
I think my next poem will be french with an english translation... and so c'mon, share...

Yeah but if you provided a transaltation then it wouldn't sound as pretty and it wouldn't ryme.

[Mellick]

Alright Wormington, (sorry about the lack of accents, i'll just put all of the passe compose to infinitif for any -er verbs for the rhyming part)


18 Juin.

Aujourd'hui c'est ta fete,
J'espere que vous n'a pas d'inquiete.
Ma fete est pendant l'Aout,
J'espere d'avoir une nouveau cou,
Mais ceci n'est pas tout.

J'aimerai avoir une phoque,
J'aimerai avoir un grand coq,
Est ceci un choc?

Votre pere est un homme merveilleux,
J'espere que votre fete est... tres... joyeux.


While I won't translate this... it pretty well talks about someone's birthday. And it's funny.

[tomblackwood]

Haiku Restroom Graffiti

When taking a crap
The wise man always checks first
The paper supply.

[Murde Mental]

if I had an armadillo
I wouldn't use it as a pillow
it's unpleasent for the head
use it as a foot-rest instead
All this is if the armadillo is dead
If he was your pet before,
you should've kept him fed
animals've got needs you cant ignore
let them out of the house too long
and you'll find him dead at your door
I don't like dead things so I sing this song
and hopefully Mellick'll follow me along!

ARMADILLO, NOT A PILLOW!
ARMADILLO, ISIN'T DEAD!
AREN'T WE HAPPY
HE WAS SLEEPING!
SO HE WON'T BE A FOOT-REST INSTEAD!!!

WE'RE HAPPY! CAUSE HE WAS A VERY GOOD FRIEND.
I'M VERY SORRY ARNY GUY IT'LL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!



YAY! Arny's alive!

:D :D :D

[Mellick]

Nice poem Murde, here's a love poem for Jen.

Jungle Love.


J-J-J-Jungle Love,
It makes me mad, it makes me craaaaazy.
You're as beautiful as a dove,
Or maybe a daisy.

My heart is running like a wolf,
Chasing down it's prey.
This ain't no time for golf,
You're as beautiful as Georgian Bay.

I can climb thing pretty well,
(Just ask Mandi).
I just hope I can reach you on your pedestal,
Because i'm sure you taste like candy.

Or if not candy then something smooth,
Like apple juice or Pepsi.
My heart for you is like epilespsy,
And i'm changing in a telephone booth.

Cause with you i'm like Superman,
I'd do anything, I'll prove to you I can.
You're like a drug, i hope they never ban.
Jen, I'm your biggest fan.


-Andy Mellick. (super star)

[Murde Mental]

right there my brotha...it touches me right there...

good stuff, good stuff...I'll see if I can come up with an actual good poem tommorow....tha one was made up on the spot..

[Mellick]

no no no... i really like your Armidillo one, it was super fun to sing!

[evil-nick]

Ahem... A poem, about something, but I haven't decided what it is yet:

I miss you darling,
Like the rain misses the stream.
I need you,
Like a geek needs his Slashdot.
I will never be complete without you,
I can only be complete with you.
I want to be your man,
And we can raise our kids together,
In a nice little house iin the country.
I know you want kids...
I'm sure I can have them, someday.
No, wait! Don't leave!
The doctor said I'll be fine!
All my equipment will work!
There's no permanent damage!
I swear to God I'll never try another suicide mount again!

She left.
With a flip of the finger...
I feel sad...
Simpsons are on tho...
That will cheer me up...
But I need ice for the groin first...

[Mellick]

Whoa Nick, that was super.


The Beach (dun dun dun)

Nikki and Peter sittin' at the beach,
Each had dug their little niche.
They made their chairs out of sand,
And listened to a travelling band.

But when the band left,
They opened their eyes.
It was like theft,
A MILLION BARE UPPER THIGHS!!!

Everyone was naked including the life guard,
Their skin becoming red... and then charred.
Not a single one worrying about the sun,
Everyone was naked except for one.

His name was Andrew and he wore tights,
And he was flying almost seven kites.
He let them go to pick up the chicks,
He litterally threw himself into the mix.

He had his skill and did it with care,
He did his pose and looked like a doll
And asking: "Have you seen my beach-ball?
I last saw it over there."

That was his line,
That's all he had.
Andrew was fine,
Oh Boy he was bad.

Peter was angry cause Nikki stared,
Nikki got up... would she dare!
She walked up to Andrew and said "Movies. Now. Let's go."
But Andrew's like: "Phh, no."


-Andrew Mellick

[Murde Mental]

BUUUURN! NIKKI BUUUURN!

[Mellick]

It's just short of seven,
This ain't no heaven.
It's almost dinner,
That's right... not supper!

I can't say that i follow soccer,
Had no pin-up in my locker.
But tonight i'm for Greece,
I'll have no peace.

What if some Italians come over,
They start a fight? I'll knock em' over.
Like a dove, they'll cry,
I won't even have to try.

I'll kick they'll kiesta,
While at the fiesta.
I got my mojo,
Go Greece go.

-Andrew Mellick

[Murde Mental]

Sporks.
Yeah, sporks are for dorks
Gotta make you're mind up man!
what's it gonna be?
spoon or fork?

Yo man what's the deal?
can't you see what's wrong?
this problems real!
these things don't get along!

They're like black an blue
You gotta stay true
to what is right
two things aren't always alright

when they're together
it ain't always for the better
I like my utentils apart
It's crazy to make one two
it's like kung fu
with a can of lards
farts and martial arts!

So people people!
make up your minds!
use spoons for soop
and forks for rinds!

Sing it with me! SPORKS FOR DORKS!
SPORKS FOR DORKS!

WE DON'T NO DUMB UTENTILS!
WE DON'T NEED NO WORD CONTRAPTIONS!

I SING THIS WITH THE VOICE!!
THE VOICE OF ABSTRACTION!!!
GOD, GIVE US FREEDOM OF CHOICE!!!!


OOOOhhhh YEEEEEEAH!

~Owen

[Mellick]

I'm starting to think that you're a better poet than I am... i tip my helmet to you man, cause you're so super. You're like a blade of grass. Standing out as the only one not cut. Fresh as a gentle breeze, you sway in the wind but never break. You gather your thoughts like roots and water and you use them to make yourself more beautiful than ever. Your words are like the sound of wind when you stand with your face to it, mystical...

I'll try to one up you tomorrow.

[Murde Mental]

I thought I was crazier than an emu on acid but thanks!

I'm really pissed off that I lost my masterpeice though..it was called poopy moopy oh! so droopy!

let's try to reconstruct the magic....

Poopy Moopy. OH! So Droopy!

Plouf!plouf!
that's the sound of feces falling
~~~skips what he doesn't remeber~~~
Swirly swirly down it goes
When I pull the chain,
it clogs and overflows

Darn, I can't remeber he rest....

Anyways, I write about simple things. Writting abobut Love and Beauty is much too E-Z man...try writting about small things that have touched you in their own small way.

The Armadillo song was after seeing that D12 video thing where there's a pink stuffed armadillo...

My next poem is likely gonna be about presliced bagels....



Btw, did you notice that nobody else seems to comment on our poems?


Oh, and if you like this weird sorta Owen stuff then look out for my downloadable Kazaa radio show...that's gonna be cookier than a cookoo on cokopuffs....
Don't worry, I'll let you all know when I'm done with that...

~Owen

[Mellick]

Whoa Sorry...

My computer died and so my poetry contributions kinda' got side tracked. I'm sorry man, so here's one man, i apologize.


Computer Woes

I feel vexed,
I am so Perplexed.
My computer died,
And I don't know why.

I brought it down to the computer store,
Dang! It was such a chore.
They told me I had a corrupt registry file,
Then I had to wait a while.

Do I want to believe them,
Something Something 'em.
This is the second time it happened,
150 bucks once again.

150 that's alot,
150 that's alot!
But this is Canadian funds.
That's like 100 American little ones.


The End.

[harper]

the whale

i am the whale
and you are a giant nickel
afloat , bobbing on the icy , black ocean.
your bison's hump points to the heavens
and his hooves dangle helplessly,
miles above the ocean floor.

my flukes slam the water, heavy like mercury
it slides in smooth streams from my tail
as i lunge into the side of the bison
and chew the fur on his haunches.
you can see my teeth, swarming with a civilization
of parasites alive on the refuse of my efforts.

you can see my eye, tiny, cartoon-like,
almost motionless in the jelly of my enormous bulk
as it rolls and turns to the sky
the iris pales and is azure; is the sky.
the indian is upside down, his eyes closed
awaiting the inevitable and praying to dive to the bottom.
the cruel water holds him captive,
a meniscus like a steel band around his nose.

the sky, nearly touching the water,
a yellow squash, flattened and flannel-like,
my iris has opened up to it, my pupil has released it.
it is dotted with flashes of the dancing sun
wildly leaping from horizon to horizon.
i can only imagine the thunder that is muted
by the thick blanket of flaming moss
above you and your bison and your pleading indian.

and beyond us, the blanket is a floor
in the land of the ancients where carved faces
framing stone nostrils breath a wind that is always arid.
the floor opens an icy blue puddle
that spreads as candle wax on a stone
and i swim through it; i leave you behind.
my silly teeth chatter at the cliffs.
i am a fool, and the thunder is behind me,
my tail trapped in the mouth of the clouds.

[nickvb123]

Here are some poems i wrote for english. I made a new thread about one before i sawy this thread.

Free verse poem - One Wheel: Unreal

My feet leave the pedals to rest on the frame,
The wheel transforms into a wild beast,
That I try to ride with uncompromising zeal,
But its’ will is set against me, it won’t let me ride,
It wishes to throw me down to the ground,
Leave me stranded for my endeavour to master it,
But somehow I stay up, riding the impossible,
Defying physics, arms waving like a stormy sea,
Perched precariously, the pinnacle of balance,
Stretching the limits of human ability.

As the wheel rotates, my concentration keeps me up,
Despite the waves of ecstatic elation,
That flood through my head like an overflowing dam.
5, 10, 15, the metres pass by,
I feel I could go forever, confidence sky high,
From accomplishing super human feats of excellence.

Then all comes crashing down, breaking the image of splendour,
Dropping me back to earth to grovel in the dust of reality,
To sink back to the depths from which I arose,
Count to 3 and then I’m back up to give it my 100th attempt!




Dramatic Monologue
Playing Soldiers

We were huddled in the back
Of the big army truck
We rumbled down the track
It was just my luck

To be stuck on this mission
Through the dead of the night
I could not get permission
To stay out of this fight,

To find a nuclear weapon
At the enemy’s base
A waste of time I reckon
In this hell of a place.

The truck stoped with a jolt,
We jumped out to the sand,
The sergeant called us to a halt,
Amidst the sparse scrubland,

We marched out into the bush,
The wind began to blow,
On, on and on we pushed,
Under the faint moon’s glow,

Spread out in an emu bob,
It seemed like hours on end,
With every single heartthrob,
Consciousness began to descend,

Through the trees we stumbled,
The group struggled on,
“Tired” some of us mumbled,
but we had to play along,

Not wanting to seem weak,
We tried to stay on our feet,
To tired to even speak,
Longing for some heat,


Against the chilling breeze,
That had began to kick in,
The blood began to freeze,
Quite soon after the skin,

My muscles began to shiver,
My head began to ache,
Uncontrollable quivers,
Resistance starting to break,

And just when I thought,
I could go no longer,
Then came the words I sought,
I felt a little stronger.

We were stopping in a vain attempt,
To catch a few hours sleep,
Enough for my weary hearts content,
I collapsed into a heap.




Quatrain
The Tourist

He is travelling far to distant places,
Where he has never been,
He is travelling over open spaces
For things he’s never seen.

Searching for eye opening sights,
Miracles small and grand,
Lands bathed in sunlight,
Beaches of golden sand.

A quest for natural wonder,
Dark rainforests, towering mountains,
Treasures for the eyes to plunder,
Dry deserts and water fountains.

For diversity of wildlife,
In areas of isolation,
Soon to come under strife,
By development and relocation.




Ode to Music

Music; what a beautiful sound,
A lovely treat for the ears,
Delightful tones that one hears,
A new joy to be found.

Rumbling rhythms, progressions of chords,
Key change major to harmonic,
Leading note rising to the tonic,
Building like a Ford.

Dynamics used to grab attention,
Piano to forte in a crescendo,
Dying away in a diminuendo,
Helping to build tension.

Techniques of composing melody,
Creates contrast high and low,
Sequences both fast and slow,
For elation of malady.

Use of different instruments,
No sound is quite the same,
Stops the music sounding lame,
Creating a sound of sentiment.

Music; what a beautiful sound,
A lovely treat for the ears,
Delightful tones that one hears,
A new joy to be found.





Elegy to Iraq

A needless war I thought,
But President Bush did not,
The “weapons” that he sought,
I thought were just a plot,

A very lame excuse,
To start another war,
That led to so much abuse,
A campaign of many flaws.

So much avoidable death.
Innocent and conserving,
Many took their last breath,
Slaughtered undeserving.

Why must we go looking for war?
The world has enough problems,
Sending people to death’s door,
Is this the desired outcome?




Cinquain Poem

The Rain

The rain,
Dripping, dropping,
Falling from the heavens,
And trapping me inside my house,
Boredom.





Some of them are pretty dodgy. No doubt you won't understand most of them because they have personal meaning kinda thing.

[Mellick]

Whoa dude, those were awesome...

Harper, i'm not sure i completely understand you whale indian thingie... but it sounded pretty deep and sentimental. I was moved by all the emotions.

Nick, dude!!! There was like 5 of 'em. That's super awesome. I hope your poetry unit doesn't end, cause we need more people like you that can just throw poetry arround.

[Murde Mental]

Aight. Here we go with the down-low
Everything's set.
Everyone is listening.
The lights are glistening.
Everybody's waiting
to watch the show.

Here I stand
it's all been planned
but I can't help but feel
like a slimy eel.
Not ment to be here,
not ment to perform
like a fish out of water
I'd like to transform
into a bird and fly.
Fly high, fly far and fly away.
Postpone the event till another day
but it's too late, the time has come

[)----(x)]

i took a plain a took a train i met someone named dayne he had a kane and sold cocaine by the lane where the insane man sniffs cocaine and makes a paper crane the paper crane pokes me in the eye, what a pain... INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE! INSANE IN THE BRAIN! INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE! SO INSANE GOT NO BRAIN! INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE!... so i walk further down the lane and then i come across this plain WHERE THE GRASS IS GREEN AND THE GIRLS ARE PRETTY! so i check the time.. my watch isnt there.. so i pull outs 3 nickles and a dime i go to the payphone and take my time, bad idea cause now im outta time a cop come's someone must have did a crime. it was me.. cause i ryme all the time and i was a poet and i didnt know it but i sure show it



diggity dawggy dawg you know it!

Senor El Fonzo

[Murde Mental]

(my poem continued)

Don't I feel dumb!
What was I thinking!?
There's no point in faking
I'll just have to go on.

Cue the band.

The music starts.

I open my eyes.

Watch the crowd.

They're waiting.

The music's playing.

There's no turning back.
I open my mouth
no sounds come out.
Sing! god damn it! Sing!
So I do.

I take control.
I let out my soul
and lose all fear.
The end is near.
I'm almost there
It all becomes clear.

what you need is confidence. what you need is confidence. what you need is confidence.

They all cheer. They all cheer.




Well, there's my (almost) made up on the spot poem it's actually pretty good.... I think it's more of a song though...whatever it needs a name...I'll call it: you can do If you can beleive.


BLAAAAAARG!!!

Owen

[Worminton]

i rap and play harmonica which is sorta like writing poems. Heres a rap in progress.


Like a pimp with my nizels
In the hood staying schnizel


I got the hood in me
You got the hood in you
i got the hood in me
And you ain't got a clue

Wikedy Whack Wikedy Whack Wigedy WOOOOOOOOO (3x)

Like a pimp with my Nizels
In the hood staying schnizel

There's people sleeping on the street
Walking in bare feet

They ride cheap unis and
The hood is really puny

That's all so far and I still have to add the Harmonica part and the rest of the stuff.

[Murde Mental]

ok, here's my rap:

Hizzle fo shizzle
dinwizzle a lizzle dawg
we all know dis be fo rizzle
when we bop and skiddazzle in da fog

I'll be callin' ma homies fo shizzle
cause they be pimpn' in de hood
widdout me, I'm angry
I'm a gonna bust those mother******* up
Smokin' grass, pimpin hoes...
bein' illegal is what we do
we've got like a bassillion fake foes
we complain about cause we're too damn rich
yet too damn ghetto

So we whine and we whine
my life is hard
I've got to live with only two hummer-limos
cause we're ghetto....

well...used to be but now that I'm so damn rich
I complain about the past
which is mostly fictional.

It's all cliched it's all...
I'm angry, smoke grass, kill people, pimp hoes, in the ghetto, I'm a gangsta, I've been shot and that mother****** is gonna die bla, bla, bla....

oh, and our pronouciation sucks not only can't we speak properly but we've got to spell things differently..

bla, bla... right thurrr
aight?

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one?
you're kidding right?
you're a fucking millionaire
there's no problem you can't buy your way out of....
DUMBASS!!!

Aww man, being a rap super-star is soo demanding
NOT!
Everything is outlined.
all you gotta do is NOT be yourself
remeber, you're selling an image not music.



WOAH..what am I on about?....
I have no clue where the hell all this came from....meh! can't be important....

[nickvb123]

Nick, dude!!! There was like 5 of 'em. That's super awesome. I hope your poetry unit doesn't end, cause we need more people like you that can just throw poetry arround.

It does unfortunately.

While i like (somewhat) writing poetry i don't write poetry out of school:(

[Mellick]

Happy Birthday!!!

Today is Ellen's birthday!
In July not May!
Happy birthday Ellen,
I sure hope you're Jellen.

I wish you hope,
I wish you love.
I hope you learn to cope,
With your eyes like a dove.

You're 18 now,
That's pretty old.
You're super awesome,
(At least, that's what I'm told).

-Andy

[evil-nick]

Poor, poor Mellick.
His registry died you see.
Poor poor Mellick.
Too bad he's not more like me.

My registry is never corrupt,
And my Window never blows.
My computer is always running,
Viruses? I never get those.

For my computer runs so sweet,
It is just like a TinyGod.
Industrial Strength it is,
Like the inanimate carbon rod.

How can this, be you ask?
Why do I never need a fix?
The answer is simple my friend:
My computer is running Linux :D

[Mellick]

Greatest poem ever Nick!!!

[Worminton]

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

Onion king onion king where are you now?
He's fertilizing in the manure of a cow

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

Very mad is the onion king
Cause he accidently ate an onion ring

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

[Worminton]

I'm going to have to work on "The Onion King" and make it better soon.

[Mellick]

I don't know man, for poetry to really 'live' it needs characters that people can relate to and understand. I feel as if I can actually feel the Onion King's anger about eating that onion ring. He's very upset and I feel that anger spilling over the edges of the poem. Very good.

[Logan_A.]

I also believe in what andy writes. hi I'm long lost poet bretherin Logan from the AOU chapter I also wrote the award winning novel, "Gone within the wind" no not gone with the wind "gone within the wind". I believe the first draft is always the best it may not flow as nicely but it truely does express mpore thoughts feelings and overall is a better peom to the one it really matters to, YOU. so you re-write that poem, but I say it's fine just the way it is, and so are you and the onion ring/king, cause you feel hois pain his anxietyhis fears about life and hatred. We support you in every whcih way you portray yourself, cudos my young friend; cudos.

until next time, iyo solver AWAY!

/_ for logan

[Worminton]

Thanks Mellick and Logan. I think it's my first good poem. I wasn't really happy with the rap. But by re-write I mean I'm going to add on to it. I won't change anything.

The Onion King
By Otis

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

Onion king onion king where are you now?
He's fertilizing in the manure of a cow

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

Very mad is the onion king
Cause he accidently ate an onion ring

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

The onion king won't take it anymore
It's just way to much
This crazy folklore
Is insane to the touch

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

The world doesn't know him
They just shun him in fear
Dying by a slow limb
Brings him a tear

The onion king is crazy in his head
The onion king is sleeping in his bed
Cause the onion king doesn't eat lead
The onion king is happy and he's loud
The onion king is snappy and he's proud

He did something about his burden
Decided to end it all
Before he let go he let this last word in
"Now I take this fall"

[onetrack]

south

sally gets drunk, takes a break from life
she rocks out hard, every night

sally gets drunk, tomcats on the prowl
she's searching for love, all they throw is a towel

sally's body get's used, few moments of fun
then he's done,
her lonelyness returns, lip starts to quiver
she runs back to the cabenet, couldn't be quicker
opens a bottle, makes use of her liver

[evil-nick]

Legs pump rythmicly
Road flashes beneath my wheel
One with the machine

[harper]

Whoa, Nick, cool Haiku.



77th street

the hill on 77th street is so steep to being vertical
and seduces my cycle into fast, fast down its slope
where i cross the thin line between thrill and fear
that some demented artist has blended on his pallette.

the lure and power of endless gravity beneath its wheels
the scream of air as if free falling from a flying fortress
but always in the middle of the hill on 77th street
when the danger is at its peak i turn to see her.

a little girl clomps out onto her porch on 77th street
in her mother's shoes and makeup for ten thousand faces
and waves her little girl wave to me daily as i fly by
by squeezing her fingers into and out of a tiny angelic fist.

her house on 77th street tries to keep its peeling paint
but is slowly letting it fall like snow to the ground
and i cannot see inside for its lights are dim or missing,
the only sunlight touching it when she clomps onto the porch.

i wonder what flowers smell like in her fairy tale dreams
or if she has tasted bread with honey and heard the birds of her heart?
friday i will replace all the missing light bulbs in her home;
nothing bad has ever happened to me on 77th street.

[tomblackwood]

Journey

He lies dreaming of Mayan pyramids;
the zone of sand and light.
Their outlines tremble from the heat, and
quartzite and gypsum crystals are
borne on the wind like diamonds.

How the peasants have adapted to life
in this kiln. Their hat brims obscure
the facts their faces might reveal,
and though they approach to
give him water from their jugs,
they do not judge him.
They do not waken him to request
his exit.

[jagur]

these real feelings are true

how can i ask for more production escape

RSU has been thoroughly abused