Wednesday, November 24, 2010

This is not a real poem

Empty apartment.  No school for three days because of snow.  No school for four more days because of Thanksgiving.  Good music.  Make haikus.  Build poem.

It grew increasingly harder to rhyme as the tiles dwindled.  Enjoy.

Science promises a logical tangle
Following no whispers for light;
He, feeling wicked (desperate), opens
Fire for the radical right.
My alternate dilemma honestly clear,
They embraced happy fortune fast;
God, who glorious, shot down
Peace in the ugly ass.
I ran behind the dripping
Slimy tiger heart; also lots
Consume your point, baby girl,
Blocks sweet travel home (so not).

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