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Literature Text
Industrial Night
This city is evil
Wicked oily-wicked light
Fries the dark into
Ribbons of smoke over dusky
Moon
No haze-cloaked stars
To be found
In the factory town
Literature
Seasonal Depression
He hadn't been prepared for the sheer level of inebriation at the wedding. Some people staggered in already drunk and proceeded to roll farther down hill as the evening wore on, the singing and dancing following along to embarrassing levels. Tobias didn't mind too much. From the stories he had gathered from other staff and volunteers, if ever a stable needed to have a party it was this one. Death, drugs, identity struggles and trying to piece together broken horses and people on a daily basis took a toll on even the strongest mind.
So the black-haired boy didn't complain as he helped clean up the reception area and watched the more impai
Literature
Relatable
“A pen is to me as a beak is to a hen.”
- J.R.R Tolkien
Literature
Focus.
Focus.
Drawing the eye
to the still
Heart.
Tip
of the pencil,
of the finger,
drawing,
writing,
typing
And the words,
Unblurred
sense.
Polar coordinate of my sphere:
Throat
and four o’clock
of the crown;
Lips would kiss
sullen smile
to unhappy joy.
Seamus.
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Industrial revolutions are messy, horrible business.
Comments1
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Not sure what the intended effect of writing the title into the poem was.