How to die poem Video
IF by Rudyard Kipling (A Life Changing Poem) how to die poemHow to die poem - with
I could build a golem out of all the hair I have ever removed from my body. The neck young locks. Round pubic bursts of eyes. I could dye its cheeks with …. Read more on heyalma. Samuel Taylor Coleridge stands tall in the cultural pantheon for his poetry. Dear Annie: I find myself becoming apathetic toward my friend. We are both in our early to mids, and where I have never been in a relationship, …. I cannot remember whether I knew what compulsive hoarding was before Likely not.
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I never wanted to die. Even when those I loved died around me, away from me, beyond me.
My life was never in question, if for no other reason than I wanted to wake up and see what happened next. And I continue to see more to open like that, like the flowers who lift their heavy heads as the hills outside the window flare gold for a moment before they turn on their sides and bare their creased backs. Even the cut flowers in a jar of water lift their soon to how to die poem dead heads and open their eyes, even they want a few more sips, to dwell here, in paradise, a few days longer. Man-made, bejesus hot, patches of sand turned to glass. Home of Iron Mountain and McCulloch chainsaws.
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London Bridge, disassembled, shipped, reassembled. The white sturgeon stocked, found dead, some lost, hiding in the depths of Hhow Dam. Fifty year-old monsters, maybe twenty feet long. Lake named for the Mojave word for blue. What we called the sky on largemouth bass days, striped bass nights, carp, catfish, crappie, razorback, turtles, stocked, caught, restocked.
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I stood waist deep in that dammed blue, and I was beautiful, a life saver resting on my young hips, childless, oblivious to politics, to the life carted in and dumped into the cauldron I swam through, going under, gliding along the cool sand like a human fish, white bikini-ed shark flashing my blind side. We heard a woman died, face down in the sand, drunk on a degree day. That night we slept on dampened sheets, a hotel ice bucket on the bedside table. We sucked the cubes round, slid how to die poem beveled edges down our thighs and spines, let them https://digitales.com.au/blog/wp-content/custom/why-building-administrations-have-a-developing-business/cost-of-execution-vs-life-imprisonment.php to pools in the small caves below our sternums.
While you slept beside me I thought of that woman, her body one long third degree burn, sweating and turning under a largo moon, the TV on: seven dead from Tylenol, the etched black wedge of the Vietnam Memorial, the Commodore Computer unveiled, the first artificial heart, just beginning to wonder if something might be wrong. Here, a description of stalemate looking past shore.
Here is the fragment, the stunted word store. Life brings us to the dedication of the droning fisherman, all his preparations for autumn—thermal thigh-high rubbers Land trauma, spill snot from earth.]
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