The Triolet Trail

kborsden

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Where opinions have a distinct aroma.
Lost in the hood, say your goodbyes
and welcome what can't be found elsewhere.
We are more real in all we find
lost. In the hood, say your goodbyes
and never look to what was left behind;
face instead the grain that appears
lost in the hood. Say your goodbyes,
and welcome what can't be found elsewhere.
 

onestepp

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And welcome what can't be found elsewhere
pour out the contents of your heart
among the woods of camp nowhere
and welcome what can't be found elsewhere
you know you have to start somewhere
nobody knows exactly where to start
and welcome what can't be found elsewhere
pour out the contents of your heart.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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Pour out the contents of your heart;
give courage to those around you.
Take your steps, begin at the start—
pour out the contents. Of your heart,
wretched pain of love torn apart,
but this is what you must first do:
Pour out the contents! Of your heart—
give courage to those around you.
 

kdnxdr

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give courage to those around you,
stand for what you believe; be willing
to offer yourself, whatever would ensue.
to what is in your heart, be true;
fate and destiny will soon rendezvous.
to stand in the face of adversity, chilling;
give courage to those around you,
stand for what you believe! be willing.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Stand for what you believe, be willing ...
ideals my parents instilled in me.
A life lived well is well worth living;
stand for what you believe. Be willing
to work hard, for work is fulfilling.
"Off your butt" was their fabled decree—
"Stand!" For what you believe, be willing—
ideals my parents instilled in me.
 

Perscribo

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Ideals? My parents instilled in me
no such daydreams. Are the silver linings
of our cloudy minds shifting to decree
ideals? My parents instilled in me:
"Pay the rent and the electricity!"
So much had sprung from our Grandpa's failings;
ideals my parents instilled. In me:
no such. Daydreams are the silver linings.
 

onestepp

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No such daydreams are silver linings
where heaven meets hell's staircase
twisted circular metal bindings
no such daydreams are silver linings
insteps covered with metal grindings
painful past recovered homebase
no such daydreams are silver linigs
where heaven meets hell's staircase.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Where heaven meets hell's staircase,
doomed travelers must decide
to go down, or up to grace
where heaven meets. Hell's staircase—
there's no smile or friendly face
or gentle soul to confide
where heaven meets. Hell's staircase?
Doomed travelers must decide.
 

kdnxdr

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doomed! travelers must decide
their final destination; a ticket,
a quiet convocation inside.
doomed travelers - must decide!
a deep, yet hasty reflection contrived,
doubt - so many will pick it;
doomed travelers must decide
their final destination, a ticket.
 
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onestepp

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their final destination, a ticket
on a train bound to nowhere
at the chirp of a lucky cricket
their final destination, a ticket
found wedged in a thicket
in the middle of somewhere
at the end of a nightmare
on a train bound to nowhere
 
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Perscribo

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On a train. Bound to nowhere.
In the rain. My tears won't be seen.
Thunder and flash slashes each care
on a train bound to nowhere.
If only I'd made him aware:
In all kinds of weather, I've been
on a train, bound to know where
(in the rain) my tears won't be seen.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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In the rain my tears won't be seen
by trolls who pose as passersby.
Their lustrous strands of sorrow gleam
in the rain. My tears might be seen
on pavement arid and so clean,
the path that takes the T from trye.
Rein in my tears; they won't be seen
by trolls who pose as passersby.
 
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onestepp

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By trolls who pose as passersby
with the weight of the world upon
under everyone's watchful eye
by trolls who pose as passersby
my mind they do often occupy
the curious nature of a pawn
by trolls who pose as passersby
with the weight of the world upon.
 

Perscribo

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With the weight of the world upon
shoulders so small, is your outlook
somber? We all wait for the dawn
with the weight of the world. Upon
this frail Atlas our hopes were drawn,
falling back in scale as he shook
with the weight of the world upon
shoulders. So small is your outlook.



[Am now realizing this is a truly terrible last line to work with. Perhaps "Shoulders-So-Small" would make a good indian name?]
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Shoulders so small! Is your outlook
narrowed by cartoon eyes
which drape the peaks of comic-book
shoulders? So small is your outlook
that you never let off the hook
that poor AL Franken guy's
shoulders. So, Small(ey), is your outlook
narrowed by cartoon eyes?
 

poetinahat

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Narrowed-by-cartoon eyes
blink at the opened door,
a cave's mouth. Outside lies,
narrowed by cartoon eyes,
Life. Not in half-hour size -
it's unscripted. But you're
narrowed by cartoon eyes.
Blink at the opened door.
 
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B.D. Eyeslie

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Blink at the opened door;
awake, the visions melt away.
Clear thinking beholds more—
blink. At the opened door,
the waking dead call for
gore: "March with us!" "Just for today,
blink at the opened door."
"Awake the visions; melt away ..."
 
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onestepp

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Awake the visions; melt away...
as petal's of a flower extend
at the dawn of each day
awake the visions; melt away...
where April showers bring May
to glorious scents dead-end
awake the visions; melt away...
as petal's of a flower extend
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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As petals of a flower extend,
the guns blast mightily toward the sun.
The departed doth lightly descend
as petals of a flower. Extend
condolences, your love for a friend.
Grieve bitterly, for he's as undone
as petals of a flower. Extend
the guns; blast mightily toward the sun.
 

A. Hamilton

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the guns blast mightily toward the sun
borne by children of heroes and mothers
whose hopes and sins beget confusion
the guns blast. mightily toward the sun
the new grass bends in morning dawn
while gentle robins fluff their feathers
the guns blast mightily toward the sun
borne by children of heroes and mothers
 

poetinahat

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Borne by children of heroes and mothers,
the guilt of the ages, shadow and weight,
wilts the greenest leaves, crushes the others.
Borne by children of heroes and mother's
boys in safe corners, new bones and feathers
promise the future in a sparrow. Fate,
borne by children of heroes and mothers,
the guilt of the ages: shadow and weight.
 
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onestepp

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The guilt of the ages: shadow and weight
shadowlands friendship of broken wings
are a mixture of good luck, faith, fate
the guilt of the ages: shadow and weight
where friends create and confiscate
with their everlasting intersprings
the guilt of the ages: shadow and weight
shadowlands friendship of broken wings.
 

poetinahat

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Shadowlands. "Friendship of broken wings" -
a symbol of futile aspiration,
perhaps oppression? - a lonely beggar sings;
shadow lands, friendship, of broken wings,
but not of food, a home, or love - the things
he needs. The lies of purification?
Shadowlands! "Friendship of broken wings" -
a symbol of futile aspiration.
 

B.D. Eyeslie

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A symbol of futile aspiration,
the surgeon shouted, "Suction please!"
The coroner stood in preparation—
a symbol. Of futile aspiration
the stiff on the table had no nation
when shouts came out for him to freeze—
a symbol of futil—"Aspiration,"
the surgeon shouted, "suction please!"
 
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CDSinex

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The surgeon shouted, "suction please!"
and quite confused, looked at his nurse.
"This man has two appendices,"
the surgeon shouted. "Suction please,
with all this blood I can not see,
and fear one slip could make it worse."
The surgeon shouted, "suction please!"
and, quite confused, looked at his nurse.
 
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