Embedded Files
Now I set out across a minefield,
space having taken all I owned, I’m starting overw
from a point where every pebble may explode
beneath my shoe and the flowers blaze up
behind my body as I gasp for air,
although in this world I’ve never known
either flames or dragons or the fury of war
in these lands where the sky was always calm
above the farms and the old schoolhouses,
and the schoolmistress from Angels’ road
has long since packed her bags in which,
under the blouses and wrinkled slips,
slept a handful of notebooks filled with stars —
so why is there suddenly
this thrashing in the leaves,
this breath of fire along the woods
across from which an electric fence
defines the limits of the farmlands
while farther off the lost wild geese
settle softly on the empty runway?
poem
O Thou rat dog, how much your mother has inspired me to work!
O Thou rat dog, how much your mother has inspired me to work!
Below is an inspirational play on how a rat dogs mother influenced the rat dog to work harder. This story made me cry; it is more difficult to swallow than when Timmie's birds stole my cheetos and also stole my life, so I kill Timmie in ten different dimensions every day. Additionally, coral reef tiles can help your mother because she is influenced by the amount of carbon in the air; if there is more carbon in the air, she will become more black, and more smoky. "HE HE," I said.
says who? says you.
“Who's there?”This itself is a great question in the context of the play and the western literature. This is also a question of identity asking, “Who am I?” and “Who are you?” And the answer only increases the puzzle when it is said, “Nay, answer me.
Nay Nay nay
do you want some hay? nay
do you like your life? nay
are you gay? nay
~directed by scratch
how to play?
When the "mom" asks you for the timmie question, there are two results. One is below 50, one is above 50.
The word poetry is like water, flowing out and condensing into the rain .
rain rain rain do you like ur pain
I enjoy my pain. just as much as you enjoy your fame for now
my pain is the cause of extratrubating shame,
a shame that inflicts pain
a pain that causes more tears and hate
hate of ur mother
Thyself must achieve holyness by consumption of metaverse.
Thyself must achieve holyness by consumption of metaverse.
"It seems," Ms. no. I don't know "it seems".
Not only my black cloak, good mother,
And it's not a black tradition.
or forced ventilation.
No, and it is not a blessed river in my eyes.
Not a sad look, either.
With all forms, emotions, forms of grief,
That can really represent me. These are "see",
because it is a movement that a person can walk;
such a beutiful poem indud.
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