poetry critical

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Open sores from sea-salt rocks.
Aziel

Nothing's never going to be the same;
 1
Nothing has been molested by music.
 2
But didn't music save the Queen?
 3
When she hushed it into mischief,
 4
We all knew, we all knew.
 5
(A truth is left to be desired by the liars,
 6
and the truth is that when you do it all the time,
 7
It just isn't fun anymore.
 8
Or so one would thing.  That's all.)
 9
My words meant to defent this poor Nothing
 10
Have led me to deplete my oxygen tank.
 11
So I use freezing hairspray to finish my speech,
 12
then lie back to enjoy an air-conditioned breeze.
 13

19 Aug 06

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Please excuse me, I had thought that poetry was meant to communicate.
 — Storytime

oh gosh, you're still around here? awesome! i saw your comment on my poem up there, and i was like "hmm, that username sounds familiar."
did you ever leave New Iberia?

i really like the last two lines of this poem.
 — rosemary

No, I'm in Hawaii now.  xDD

I'm surprised that you actually remembered me.
 — Aziel

hawaii?
 — rosemary

Yes.  Hawaii.  xD

Long story.
 — Aziel

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