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    dots Submission Name: Gobbldegoopdots

    Author: Angeles
    Elite Ratio:    3.87 - 5/13/19
    Words: 103
    Class/Type: Poetry/Nature
    Total Views: 532
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 645


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    Not the air I'm sleeping under, aloof
    A weakening ray of light upon the lawn;
    No fleck of paint on the ledge
    On the wind-swept road to Old Bawn
    Not a deepening grimace in the dirt
    Like stones scrumming their mute erection
    The beaten up walls of the owner
    A written magician conjuring rooms
    Like every thinking skull that's made of clay
    Picking his brain as lips begin to murmur
    That insects know the rote of your decay
    No, the slow blend of one day to the next
    Like soup, their silent language as time’s passing
    Through the house is

    Submitted on 2016-08-17 23:36:36     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
    eat some poop
    but traitors to art took
    all of my gobbledygook.

    Thanks for posting the piece. Favorite line:
    On the wind-swept road to Old Bawn

    I don't know, but certain places have these lovely names that strike an image or impression to me, as if the name itself has some magical power of sorts that transport you there upon reading or saying the word.

    | Posted on 2016-09-17 00:00:00 | by Pietro | [ Reply to This ]
      Torn? It felt like maybe that could be the last word.
    | Posted on 2016-08-18 00:00:00 | by Chelebel | [ Reply to This ]

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