Poetry Compendium 1

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To never cry victory,
To never stand in awe of a broken-hearted spectre,
To never know the cruel answer,
To never conceive the greatness of a powerless deity,
To never know the warmth of a woman’s cold hands,
To never emblazon fear in the musty heart of Death,
To never draw the soul from a man hardened by years of trial,
To never show the world what is possible,
To never yell “Faith!
I am still here! I stand strong while the buildings around me turn to ashen piles of rubble!”
Is to never show the old frog of wisdom
How your resplendent boldness is the contour of heroism,
Why you spent your last sky-penny to know but one of the pleasures of the universe,
And what you will cherish in the end of time.

Walk With Me, Ipod

Carry me home, Ipod
Walk with me ‘til my legs slip into the grimy ditch,
Sing me songs about before I ate batteries
And forgot how to think,
Tell me stories about the
Last can of beans to ever live,
Live with me once more,
While I stare down the stars
And walk the path of solace
In the dark, alone, with you

The Christmas Heron

And so, Christmas, the startled heron,
Flew to the next dreary pole,
Stopped at a 7-11 for a moment,
Only to glance at the blind-eyed clerk,
To smirk in the face of the beer cooler,
To spit thrice in the toilet,
And to clean his feathers in relaxing gasoline


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