Poll: Stop! Hammer Time
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View poll results: Stop! Hammer Time
Red - May 18th 1947
5 38%
Blue - When the girl of three...
8 62%
Voters: 13.
May 18th 1947

Dear Sahara,

On this fractured land the dried souls
will ascend from the prickly pears.
All the ice-age farmers, from this fractured land,
will harvest 'til the trumpet blows; remember the orphans when they sing the words,
"O Death, where is your sting?"
The four winds won't collide with the abandoned land;
the land of the Ancestors.

But when I arrive don't bring the gifts for the Mothers and then offer it to me
on a apron; the forefathers won't allow such a thing.
Children of the desert where are you going?
No-man's land bares no fruit neither here nor there.
This is the road of the exiles; where everyman must repent.

This fractured land doesn't exist to me anymore.
This animate distortion, this scene of conquest
will soon dissolve as a nation.
And then you'll all know that Father
never liked his black Son

Yours Truly,
Sam Bigg.


When the girl of three discovered condescension.

A single ruffled Raven covertly courts the ground
with a careful claw and throaty caw,
searching through the copses,
and between the snow taken trees
loitering for the love of summer,
and wishing for that soft dappled glow in its eye;
reflecting the sunrise blending the horizon with the sky.

For winters wish-list had claimed all but the last;
the talon trails it had left
between the months of march and may,
the left-over leaves,
loose roof tiles,
tatty spider webs
and the polka-dot petticoat
of a girl a day shy of three.
In one hand she holds a teddy-bears paw,
the other open wide
seeking her mothers hand till the day she'll die;
synchronising her motions
with the movements of the boughs,
she wonders,
as she bleeds her heart out to the sky,
and the Raven's sable eyes,
"Why oh why?"
The wind alone hears her muffle cry.

When understanding fails,
a heartbeat and a tear can only say so much,
so all we're left with are the feelings
her words induce...

"Mummy, why'd this Raven die
and not I?"

Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
I'm going to have to vote on this later, as I can't quite choose now. Leaning towards the first, something about desert poems gets me and I think it was done wonderfully. I'll be back.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
Wasn't a fan of red, but the alliterations in blue were awesome.
Drop another coin in the slot, and I will tell you more...
Btoh weer godo, btu I vtoed belu

Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum seueriorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis!
Come on, one more person has to share my taste
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!