Beginnings and endings
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Kiriwana:
The spies creep silently To find shady flies, Though they won't recognize What's inside the lies. (What about making a book from this thread? It could be nice pracise for typography... ... ...
... ... ... I need a break...)
Lies are told, To hide the truth, Souls uncovered, by the sleuth
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Sleuth, only the greatest, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Purely elementary! Never stated in the books. (Sherlock Holmes, in the original books written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle *never* says: "it's purely elementary, Watson!" his famous quote. It was created later in movies and TV shows based upon the novels. I find that sad...)
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Books that line the shelves The delight of any bookworm Eat through all the books. Ehehehe...
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Books; living the dream, Letting off steam, An escape from life, Fears and agony cut with a knife.
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Knife is the tool For solving things, Evil and cool, Danger that rings. Knife is the tool Coward and brave, But only fool Kills what he can save.
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Save the innocence of the lass, Lounging in the sun warmed grass, The storm soon approaches, And young hearts he poaches.
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Poaching on the sanctuary, hunter aims for the deer Bullet in gun, dear showing no fear The hunter cocks his gun, ready to shoot The deer finds out and makes a hoot A herd of deer come mobbing the man The hunter praying not to kick the can The herd disarms and charge Buttheading him with one barge Sending him flying out of the farm And into the policeman's arm Arrested for trespassing and murder Sir Paul comes out and demands to send him to the slammer.
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(The Continuing Story Of Bungallow Bill
) Slammer grows tighter, If I can say, Tighter and dirtier Day after day. Paul is the lawyer, Who judges by ear And hearing his music Means beating the fear. The nasty hunter Is changing his mind, He finds out the reason For being kind. Where is the magic That broke such an ill? The man'll change his life now And his name will be Bill.
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Bill the Guitarist, I'm afraid not, Bill the guitarist, Tied strings in a knot. (I've never forgiven him for that...)
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Knot in my stomach Way too many butterflies Screw PSATs. [/myangerforPSATs] Since you can't really something out of PSAT, use screw instead.
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OK, screw then...
To screw the stick Into the concrete Needs a lot of strength. To rope the words Into the silence Needs a lot of length.
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(ooooh...do I spy a metaphor there, Kiriwana??) Lengthy song, Nice and long, First one ever, My dreams, they didn's sever.
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Severed body parts lying everywhere The scene of a car crash The EMTs rushing to save lives All because of someone texting on the phone.
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'Phone me, once you get home,' Mother directed me to do. Only, if only she knew, Lost and alone, far, far from home. He took me in a van, I tried to shout for help, But he only hit me and shouted at me, Kidnapped, can't you see? If only, if only, she knew, she could help. Far, far from home, that's where I am, I'm more helpless than a fair little lamb, Far, far from home, that's me, I'm in trouble, oh can't you see? Help was never on the way, I tried to excape, but to no avail, Every chance was a definite fail, I don't think I'll live another day. Here I lie, trying to breathe, He hit me and shouted, too. If only I'd known about "screw", Then he'd had no reason to seethe. (-makes face- I hate it when I do that...)
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(Very dark thoughts today...) Seething street Among two walls Scares me to the death. We walk on Inside the crowd, Caught and bound in net. Feeling breeze Above the heads, Out of reach for us. Looking up To see the light, Stuck and all helpless. (We all know this feeling...)
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: Hmmmmm....lemme see...-deep poetic thoughts- Helpless loss of life, Ending with no granduer or any peace of mind. Hope for some relief, High in the minds of them, But it shall not come. What can we do to Help them out of trouble when there is no hope? (Haiku!)
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Hope from far away Too far for the mind to reach Why is it so far? Losing hope faster Than speeding wind in winter Losing all my thoughts.
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(lets make this have a happier mood, m'kay?) Thoughts turned towards the future, Excitement for what it shall hold, Wonder who shall turn out bold, Anticipation is pure torture. (a waiting poem!)
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Torture the dark Untill it disappears, The yell of the lark Fulfills your weary ears. (Eh, I don't feel very intellectual today.)
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(Well, I liked it Kirwana. Very poetic) Frustrating beyond belief, Sitting in mercy of the theif, Indecision of what to do, Whatever I do, I can't help but be blue.