Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around.
Full swell the woods; their every music wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert, with the warbling brooks
Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills,
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How long will it take for you to see
Life is just an illusion, it's gonna pass eventually
The flesh is just a lie
Eventually you're gonna die
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The Union
I was lying on my back look up at the ceiling
Trying to come up with a wheel or dealing
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shattered glass out on the kitchen floor
picking up the pieces of my past
move away from the silence to a lingering laugh
each of us where's a mask in a disguise in life
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trapped within the very impulse of our loved beneath the perplexing ambush
we close the door of brevity with a slight adjustment of the hand when will we understand
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The Hollow Leaves
Spread out upon the ground
Out of mere sadness there's a tug at the heart
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you can't make your heart beat something it won't
it's either heaven or hell now I got a good story to tell
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alone
in the silence of my thoughts
pitter patter of soft sandal feet
a candle lit in the corner of my room
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For decades I held back this piece until today
I Think Therefore I Write Poetry
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God gives eternal life to those whose lives have no sin. But not one person can ever meet this requirement. God knows this, and he loves us so much that he sent his son Jesus to erase our sins forever. The funny thing is that God will not force eternal life upon you if you do not want it. You must first repent the things you know you've done wrong, and ask Jesus to forgive you for them. Jesus is faithful and true; He will forgive you when you ask him to. Jesus will never leave you or forsake you. friend, eternal life is yours, just ask for it!
TheCoffee Table
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Charles Manson wanted to start the race war but he died
Malcom X was philosphical in his approach to civil right
Martin Luther King Jr did his amazing thing
Trump wants to build a wall that know it all
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Bio Of Mario William Vitale
The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension:
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The Cemetery
battered in a rat infested caged existence
blood soaked rat with visious hanging teeth on side dripping blood
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I left this world today
I didn't bother to pray
I stormed the gates of heaven with delight
I walked upon the pearly gold streets
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Radio Man
Back in the Summer of eighty five thank God I was still alive
music was filling the streets as I chilled by the strip
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The Vanishing
Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs around.
Full swell the woods; their every music wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert, with the warbling brooks
Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills,
And hollow lows responsive from the vales,
Whence, blending all, the sweeten'd zephyr springs.
Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud,
Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow
Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds,
In fair proportion running from the red
To where the violet fades into the sky.
Here, awful Newton, the dissolving clouds
Form, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism;
And to the sage-instructed eye unfold
The various twine of light, by thee disclosed
From the white mingling maze. Not so the boy;
He wondering views the bright enchantment bend,
Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs
To catch the falling glory; but amazed
Beholds th' amusive arch before him fly,
Then vanish quite away.