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Author Topic: Shorn: A Poem  (Read 2919 times)

Lookingup

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Shorn: A Poem
« on: March 04, 2011, 03:22:07 am »


Shorn

(or: The March Of The Tittybabies)[/size]


The tittybabies are on parade,
oh look at them march.
Heads hung low,
posture poor,
bellies full of
sweet nothing
and heads full of
pleasant thoughts
guaranteed to offend
nobody at all.

They march not for pride,
(whazzat? they’d say)
or protest,
(whaffor? they’d wonder)
but because marching is nice.

It gets them some attention,
and lets them show off
their clothes.
It makes their legs feel
wobbly-good.

(They were promised
sippies and candy
at the end of the route.)

Most of all they march
because they’re expected to march.
The tittybabies don’t like
to disappoint the bigboys.
They don’t like
to change the pattern.
Too many channels
just confuses,
they like it when
the choices are
made for them.

(Watch. Watch close.
One by one,
but that’s not important.)

They all look the same.
Same face and suits
and slow shuffling pace.
Same color eyes focused
on similar sights.

Same happy thoughts
fill up their heads
and result in confused
semi-smiles on faces
punched from pre-pressed molds.

Never been hungry
never been sad
Never asked why
and never get mad.

(they say some folk have left the earth
and fled beneath the sea
but the tittybabies cannot understand
why anyone would do such a thing
and face the deadly black
and the terrifying lack
of air and sunlight that can kill
just to work and struggle
and fight and die without a single
guarantee of rest or recreation
no sweet pills or powders
just labor unending
all for the right
to live and die
as human afraid
oh yes but brave
and free)

Nonononono.
Better this parade
they agree.
Despite the path
that leads to this narrow
alley,

this dead end,
with walls spattered red
to wait for the promise
the reward for good babies
who marched when told
and were quiet and meek
for sippies and candies
and long promised teats.

(Go on, bigboys.
Give it to them.)

Blindfolded,
(surprise!)
arms behind,
some things are pointed.
They open mouths,
eager beavers,
to get,
what they
were promised,
what they
so richly
(so richly!)
deserve.



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"We got a warrant sworn for attempted murder for them that tried to kill the boy who's laying over there at the Doc's, trying to stay alive. Swore out another one for them that murdered the big fella you had in your cell. Only ours ain't writ by no tin star, bought and paid for, Marshal. It's writ by us, and we aim to enforce it."

-- Boss Spearman , Open Range

"I see as much misery from them movin; to justify theirselves as them who set out to do harm." - Doc, Deadwood

Moonbeam

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #1 on: March 05, 2011, 04:12:29 pm »

I admire those who have the courage to share their work. Interesting insight :)
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RVM45

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #2 on: June 16, 2011, 12:18:23 pm »

Were they being Gelded.....

Or merely Killed?

.....RVM45              :mellow: :thumbsup: :mellow:
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gaurdduck

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #3 on: June 16, 2011, 02:16:50 pm »

geez... that's trippy.
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cowardly lion

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #4 on: October 02, 2011, 09:59:12 am »

I like that, Lookingup.

cl
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gaurdduck

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #5 on: October 02, 2011, 03:00:54 pm »

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Claire

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #6 on: October 04, 2011, 09:04:35 am »

Very good. Very strange. As PKL said, trippy. And evocative.
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Red Tornado

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Re: Shorn: A Poem
« Reply #7 on: October 06, 2011, 08:56:26 am »

Excellent! I think a poem should stir emotions and make one think.  Mission accomplished.  Thanks for sharing.
RT
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