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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#2521 | And when a thousand voices. All around you spread their fear. Where can you point your head. So no one's voice you hear. _ |
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#2522 | Succumb to all such rhythm. Thus the universe has ran. The simple act decision fights. Each person codes each sham. _ |
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#2523 | If I could have a magic wish. I'd see in five dimensions. The fifth would show true distances. From chance hope and ascensions. _ |
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#2524 | Thoughts are like a waterbed. Did you get any sleep at all? For any belief that rises. Another one must fall. _ |
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#2525 | As secretly as ground is cold. Glee carries a secret best. Wearied by a weight so old. That oh we might say yes. _ |
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#2526 | Iteration is a magic word. It makes us happy or sad. Dividing us once again each morning. Making us good or bad. _ |
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#2527 | There's no such thing as fiction. Let the truth be told. I'll draw our world with tooth pics. The heart said to the soul. _ |
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#2528 | I think of you when a bulb burns out. And the darkness is was free. And when it's quiet in a power failure. Feel loss and think of me. _ |
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#2529 | With a compass informed by a sturdy map. What's a Canadian the captain asked. Someone who says the truth three times. One of the sailors laughed. _ |
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#2530 | If one bites the bully. The bully will bite thee. As frost upon the window glass. Records the dance for tea. _ |
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#2531 | Apply the breaks when needed. Life but needs control. I will not tell you my opinions. Until the light turns stroll. _ |
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#2532 | Build your mountain with every thought. Inspect each and every seed. Then stand back 40 miles. And see the shape your dream. _ |
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#2533 | Of all the sciences to study things. Poetry works the hardest. To look through mirrors and microscopes. The moist eye sees the farthest. _ |
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#2534 | I know about swamp law. But I'd rather live without it. And find a speck of dust so innocent. Then dishonestly claim to doubt it. _ |
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#2535 | Of all directions life can bend. A million terribles or a million friends. I'll not wish for direction two. And accept the one that's led to you. _ |
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#2536 | The rounds of home shall always bring. Wishper's not knowing was that a ring. Like an evening's tinge divides. Not knowing of hinged teen alibis. _ |
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#2537 | Please excuse my thoughts and words. For although I feel they're new. They're all but oh so obvious. Most worlds already knew. _ |
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#2538 | Culture has to choose direction. And to learn or not was his. When two artist meet. Something has to give. _ |
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#2539 | One votes no and four vote yes. And so a story begins. And always when they wish they didn't. Wisdom is their friend. _ |
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#2540 | How many raw outsider artists. Does it take to change a lightbulb. Some to hold the never still. And some to be the height lulled. _ |
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#2541 | Peace shall cause war. And war shall cause peace. Dare but to choose friend. Or both when's shall cease. _ |
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#2542 | The wardens boot next to your invention. Of a 40 magnets flipping board game. A universe within these walls. Please sir don't disturb the ward same. _ |
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#2543 | Oh what irony an eye becomes. When a tear can hold despise or love. And the hardest heart with hate filled stare. Will have mementos too somewheres. _ |
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#2544 | To send them adrift upon oceans of time. Kept but afloat in the vessels of minds. Hallways may never love metaphors. But rhymes to hum shall swim corridors. _ |
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#2545 | The spear thus flows to shield. In the hand that also throws. Yet no breeze be uglied thrice. By the art of the rose thorn's pose. _ |
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#2546 | Someday I'll be a real poet. When I have nothing to say. Then the poems I want to tell you. Shall already know the day. _ |
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#2547 | Would all eyes touch morning. If sunrise could be sold. The world would need a sun oh bright. Or a princess to behold. _ |
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#2548 | A long unmovable domestic animal. That's never been seen before like fashions. A collage of pretty women photos on a wall. And they all have bland compassions. _ |
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#2549 | Lumber Jacks and tire swings. What could fill such needs. Can an artist love such beauty. If woman is a tree. _ |
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#2550 | We live on a perfect plain. It's one inch behind a lens. Where no one ever needs to shout. To hear what silence sends. _ |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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