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Literature Text
Six nights ago, a presence daunting,
came to my bed: a headless haunting!
With blood a-dripping. What a sight!
And by the morn, my hair was white!
Five nights ago, the ghost came back
his head now carried in a sack.
He felt my fear and saw me weep
but would not let me go to sleep.
Four nights ago, the ghost again
came to my bed, he looked in pain,
with head sewn back upon his head,
he climbed into my rumpled bed.
Three nights ago, the blasted haunting,
his extreme deadness, still as daunting,
joined me in my bed once more.
I’m sure it is against the law!
Two nights ago, the ghost resistant
recalcitrantly, still persistent –
I’d told him - with a nervous cough,
He must vacate. He must **** off!
Last night I asked him what he wanted
as I was sick of being haunted.
He looked amazed, said I was loco,
Cos all he wanted was some cocoa!
came to my bed: a headless haunting!
With blood a-dripping. What a sight!
And by the morn, my hair was white!
Five nights ago, the ghost came back
his head now carried in a sack.
He felt my fear and saw me weep
but would not let me go to sleep.
Four nights ago, the ghost again
came to my bed, he looked in pain,
with head sewn back upon his head,
he climbed into my rumpled bed.
Three nights ago, the blasted haunting,
his extreme deadness, still as daunting,
joined me in my bed once more.
I’m sure it is against the law!
Two nights ago, the ghost resistant
recalcitrantly, still persistent –
I’d told him - with a nervous cough,
He must vacate. He must **** off!
Last night I asked him what he wanted
as I was sick of being haunted.
He looked amazed, said I was loco,
Cos all he wanted was some cocoa!
Literature
how to raise a broken kid
i.
i was born in the eye of a raging hurricane
in the night where all the rivers
turned the water into tears---
there was pain and there was rain
and muffled whispers to my ears
from that day i recognize
the face and color
of my fears
ii.
let them claim me
let them drain me
till my last droplet of hope
let them crucify me hollow
through a kid's kaleidoscope
let them dress me with their sins
and their outdated type of skins
let them paint me with their colors
and pretend i didn't see
iii.
in the corner of the room
broken bones on broken bed
paint is dripping down the walls—
fading colors under red
i can't breathe and i can't
Literature
Blood Mother
I love you in your inexistence
rabbit’s ear
baby’s breath
you are dust
but you are
mine.
Misadventures and
dew drop mornings
small curls
large eyes
my bones cannot knit your future.
Sunsets and moonbeams
sleep burdens our eyes
your soft lips sigh
there is a better world for you
than this.
-D.E.M
Literature
Lost Childhood
There is a man I know, who used to be a boy,
He never was a child, but he used to be a boy.
The child was never there, the innocence and love,
The feeling of security and a home with family love.
He says there’s something missing that he just cannot seem to find,
Maybe it’s the part of him that should have been a child.
Can he ever feel that part of him, now that he’s a man –
When it never really happened, well I guess he never can.
Maybe he seeks the child in him in another little one,
The little one he knows and loves, the one he calls his son.
Will this be the answer to his endless search?
For something that is mis
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What traditional structure is this?