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I once had a dream about God. In it, he was looking down upon the planet and the havoc we wreaked and said "Damn kids, get off my lawn!"

dance with the devil

10-8-10 @8:40 am come o' devil and try your best to heave a weight upon my chest your demons will find no quarter here and gain no purchace to to launch thier fear my will is my own and my heart is strong i'll win every battle no matter how long my soul is a fortress my mind is not weak my faith will not waver and i'll not turn my cheek just to be blind-sided by you and yours again i'm much smarter now and i'll savagely defend those that i love and all that is...

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i wanna write. i wanna write with tears of sorrow streaming down my cheeks while tears of joy fill my heart. i wanna write of the sadness that paved the way for me to be able to enjoy the happiness that i now know how to enjoy. i wanna write of the happiness that taught me that sadness is o.k. too, sometimes. i wanna write about not playing pop-warner football cause "he'll probably break a leg"; even tho my brother did, and never broke anything. i wanna write about the one-hitter i pit...

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savage son...(mohawked warrior 2)

5-8-10 @9:22am i sort of miss the hole in my heart that was filled with unimaginable rage granted, it tore up my life quite a bit and kept me feeling i was in a cage but when i NEEDED it; it was there for me i had only to pluck it’s dark strings and it would happily lend itself to whatever cause made me spread it’s deadly wings it kept me safe for a great many years for my Ora would belie that if i woke this hateful rage someone would likely die thanks to a healer, the rage ...

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a look thru the glass

the cheshire cat the cow and the moon little boy blue and bugs bunny cartoons are some of the things that pulled me out of the cages of an overbearing mother and childhood rages tom and jerry weed and beers and the great space coaster eased the early teen years a failed army attempt and jobs that were a joke made me buffer my late teens with tequila and coke my twenties and thirties kinda blurred by; blinded by crack smoke and a want to die i’m now in my forties ...

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horse sweat and gun oil

6:30 am and the mist is still chilly; my coffee, over in the corner, is playing wispy little games with the still-cool summer air. before long it will be stiflingly hot; but for now it’s just me, three horses, a cup of coffee and it’s misty friend, and a poop-scoop. the sun comes ever so slowly over the trees on the distant ridge; shining golden morning hues through the stall door, i almost lose myself in the beauty of this daily spectacle, only the snort of a heard leader that wants his hay...

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