The Ladder
This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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#2131 | Fine or flat, toss a coin. For how could stone be both. Like reeds elude the depths of mind. There! It feeds an oath. _ |
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#2132 | So that's what we're going to do. The agreed upon price, is on its way. After, "straight" inventory. Ok-pyjamas-away. _ |
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#2133 | But I don't want to do this. Such discouragement, and-handle-packed. Your blinkers are so distracting. One "Saab" and I'm in-fact. _ |
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#2134 | Make it official and so dark. I'm set for Santa Claus please. I'm so glad I "invented" you. I mean "invited". (coffee cream) _ |
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#2135 | Why don't we stop here then. And kiss me on the nose. Eight-percent is plenty. How much "does" my "placard" show. _ |
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#2136 | Blow her some tobacco. Delight in all her fame. Round numbers like two Cadillacs. Odd numbers like her drain. _ |
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#2137 | I was the hottest one. My name was your Darlene. Right above my "turpentine". Gold watch to my obscene. _ |
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#2138 | And all these little rants. "Indicative" I think's the word. They're verbose and everywhere! Nine tells your window heard. _ |
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#2139 | "Hey! You have ghosts." "Father Frances" and "Liechtenstein". I checked them for discretion. They're speechless, half the time. _ |
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#2140 | Please be sheets or diamonds. A chance to flip or flop. Morose or just good-morning. I have to heat two clocks. _ |
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#2141 | "Plain" for over there. Lift her head up "sane". Hey is that your mother. That's "why" I'm tired "again". _ |
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#2142 | There's some "engine" over left? Enough to bill for flop. Does-time see so indifferently. Depending on which sock. _ |
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#2143 | Happy Avenue-"versity" dear. I believe this is your tie. Once-supported, always Naples. For melting down goodbye. _ |
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#2144 | Bicycles have no dangers. That never go outside. Handles are for "drawer thieves". I'm "sadly" not that guy. _ |
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#2145 | Over sanctions, over smiles. Famous raisins for two hundred please. Goodbye paper, goodbye overture. What parchment ever remembers trees. _ |
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#2146 | Where the tailgaters fear the future. And those tailgated fear the past. Where a time line is a point in space. And the mind's eye goes to ask. _ |
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#2147 | Where elephant stacking reaches the usual limit. The good of any copy looms. Near the fear of what it might be like. If man understood cartoons. _ |
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#2148 | With neutral under dig-it in! And rise against the clock. Hampton road must now-await. The slowest search for sock. _ |
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#2149 | How far do vibrations go. From wrongs so non or tall. To stand beside a nebula. Or was the mood that small. _ |
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#2150 | Head only of man in a computer chair. With a ten foot high backing oath. There where a man can never steer. I'm expecting substantial growth. _ |
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#2151 | A flat faced man in a bed. His features like a rubber mask. Thinking about two women on a tundra. Is worth so much to ask. _ |
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#2152 | If there was such a thing as a shallow dream. Could there also be a shadowed task. No, tea would be a crowded heaven. If any man could ask. _ |
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#2153 | The finest reward of art and poetry. Is not a prize of tilt. Be rare in a whirl of rigid leaners. Become the easy to live with stilt. _ |
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#2154 | Do you know why simple lied. About why complex was rude. It is the only betrayal of fine. To fail to hide the crude. _ |
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#2155 | Storm at eleven! My assistant! Cute as much as you can rope. Teardrop two into the bucket. You're right. My left is moat. _ |
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#2156 | All day I hear planes and buses. And proud cars with no collisions. So once a month I paint for your walls. Some forever mourned decisions. _ |
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#2157 | Hand star, check your beetle. Know the lisp is true. News at seven. Was something said? Which reminds me of the glue. _ |
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#2158 | Carry these books to another grave. "Mountain" our course on Like-us. I don't know what to do about it. Keep vibrating the drumstick-dust. _ |
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#2159 | We must pretend, planed-outback. A height that we were stewing. Photograph it! Oh so much dust. I can't see what we were doing. _ |
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#2160 | And that now ends "dictation". Storm rages, but still on-time. Roll over. Oh such people. My turkey wants to climb. _ |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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