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Saturday, September 23, 2006


   Poem
I'm not much of a poem writer, but here we go.

One stormy night, there he stood;
A creature of the night, misunderstood.
A crossroads lay before him, no doubt;
and the rain is coming hard, to be devout.
Man or woman, old or young,
He ain't going nowhere till the fat lady has sung;
But it doesn't matter, not at all;
After all, 'tis nothing but a false call.

Confusing? Yes. Stupid? Maybe.
I was just writing. This isn't even a poem. I can do better. But some of this does make sense. Just take it...one...sentence...at...a...time.

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