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A Poem by Steven S.:
He's a good man, and thorough.
in the parlance of our times,
The Dude minds.
The Dude abides.
This will not stand, man.
we're talking about unchecked aggression,
a line in the sand,
occupying various administration
buildings and bowling.
Strikes and gutters,
ups and downs.
she's gotta feed the monkey,
even in the modest task
but you don't fool Jesus!
You're not dealing with morons here.
Playing one side against the other,
at least it's an ethos,
The bulk of the series.
Her life is in your hands.
Her life is in your hands, Dude.
this is our concern, Dude
the royal we, you know, the editorial
The Dude minds.
The Dude abides.
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A Poem by Gibson H.:
Like a black steer's tookus on a moonless prairie night,
another caucasian to keep my mind, you know, limber.
Deos mio, man.
New shit has come to light,
healt' problems,
emotional problems,
delayed after effects.
Tomorrow is already the tenth,
so where do I fit in?
The video artist,
he's a nihilist.
Very free-spirited, and thorough,
like a child who wanders in
the bosom of the Pacific Ocean.
That creep died face down in the muck
so you and I could enjoy this valued rug.
I am the walrus.
I am the walrus.
Am I wrong?
Just because we're bereaved
doesn't make us human paraquat.
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