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Robbie Williams

There's no point regretting things. If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. Life's too short to worry about things I've said.

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You Can't Define The Single Life

You can't define the single life.
Unless you're doing it.
And not for kicks.

Sometimes it's not that much well liked.
When you are on the telephone.
Just to hang up all alone.

You can't define the single life.
Unless you're doing it.
And not for kicks.

Sometimes it's not that much well liked.
When you are on the telephone.
Just to hang up all alone.

On my drifting mind with the hours,
I stay awake.
I'm thinking nothing but love.
And sipping coffee out of focus,
Hoping that your thoughts are on me.
I'm thinking nothing but love.

You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.

You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
A lusting mind has appetites...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.

You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
It's hard to fall asleep some nights.
You can't define the single life...
Thinking of love.

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You Can Never Buy The Sun

you can buy the Sun
If you build the tower
on the backs of others
to prove you have the power
Until a pyramid of one
Becomes the only answer
But when it inevitably falls
It proves it never mattered

For YoU CaN nEvEr BuY tHe Sun

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You Can't Hurry The Night

You can't hurry the night
Because the night will stay around as long as she wants
And we are not the boss of the night
Because the boss of the night is God and nobody else
But you just have to wait for the night to leave us
You can't hurry the night
Eventhought the night is long
You can't hurry the night becuse the night might be even cold during The winter nights that you might even freeze to death
But you just have to put some long underwear and you will be fine When you sleep in your bed

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You Can't Fool The Fat Man

Sittin' with the fat man
Tryin' to get a loan
Talkin' about horses
And the women that we've known
Spittin' on the sidewalk
Squintin' into the sun
Greetin' all the people
Smilin' at everyone
I said "hey, listen, fat man
I just can't get a break
Must i pay my whole life long
For just one mistake?
"my brother's in the armed forces
My sister is in jail,
Won't you give me fifty dollars
So i can pay her bail?"
He said "you can't fool the fat man
No, you can't fool me
You're just a two-bit grifter
And that's all you'll ever be

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Life Is To Short, Ppl Please Don't Waste It!

Life is too short to worry about the little things in life.
Life is too precious to waste everyday mad or sad.
Life...One of the greatest gifts God has given us.


No One knows how may days, weeks, months, yrs...that we have on this Earth. We could be here next, in gone the next minute.
People who are reading this, Life is too short to waste. Live everyday like it's your last, and enjoy life as possible. It's too precious to throw away, to precious to lose


The reason why I wrote this is because a student in my school was killed yesterday her name was Danielle Stewart, and she was one of the sweetest girls I've ever known. She was killed a day before Homecoming. She will never go to Prom, never get to graduate with her friends, go to college, get married, and start a beautiful family. It kills me to know that it took a death to bring everybody an awakening. Before she was killed, I was being rowdy and especially of all keeping a secret from the father of my unborn child..but as this is going on It's made me realize that life is too short, to precious. Danielle didn't know she was going to die, she didn't know it was her last day on Earth. So ppl please let everyone you know that you love them, and always live life to the fullest!

Love,
Whitney Scott

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Do what you love to do and give it your very best. Whether it's business or baseball, or the theater, or any field. If you don't love what you're doing and you can't give it your best, get out of it. Life is too short. You'll be an old man before you know it.

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Patrick White

If You Worry About Where You're Going

If you worry about where you're going
before you go, you're not worthy of the road yet.
If you're not having some black-hearted fun
with your worst nightmares, because they're
just as surrealistically absurd as the bliss
of your most recurring dreams are, how
are you ever going to avoid taking yourself literally?
If you're not crazy enough to wander
through a cemetery saturated with the moon
in the early hours of the morning, trying
to organize a choir of singing gravestones,
how are you ever going to recover a voice of your own?
That dowdy wren you let go of when you first discovered swans?

If you ever want to sweep across the lava plains of the moon
in a rush of emotion of a homecoming ocean,
but you can't feel the tide in a single dropp of water,
you haven't cried enough yet to drown in your own sorrows
and see everybody's life flash before your eyes
as you go down in retrospect, wiser than bubbles
in the way you descend like feathers trying to smile.
O, it's hard here, isn't it. Isn't it brutal at times?
All your beautiful teeth knocked out against a concrete curb?
Inoperable cancer. The savage inexplicability
of the death of children it would be sacrilege
to even think there was an acceptable answer
to appease the loss, to satiate the grief. And I know stones
I've turned over I wished for years I hadn't, things I've seen
that make me wish I'd never been born with eyes,
that have rendered my nemetic courage dysfunctional,
estranged from the Pleiadic radiance of my seeing
as if it were a black farce on tour in Taurus.

But if you want to shine like the fire of a pioneer star
in the clear light of the void, as I keep reminding myself
like a mantra over and over and over again,
you're going to light up the intensity of hell
as readily as you do the cruel immensity of heaven
when it terrifies you with joy. Be a brave boy, I say to myself,
resolved to live all the lives of the Tarot Pack
and then go looking for the cards the Sufis say are missing,
just to say and smile at the end of time, if only to myself,
yes, I played all the stations of my life
as if they were the winning hand of an inveterate gambler
calling my own bluff in an unbeatable casino.
Seven come eleven, I've rolled my prophetic skulls
up against the wall like a printer in inky coveralls
in the back alley delivery entrance of a cosmic newpaper
on its lunch hour, throwing snake-eyes around
like the fang marks of a prison tat turning to Braille.

If you haven't blooded your sword by falling on it yet,
and hemorrhaged by a river wild blue irises, just to add
a little Zen beauty to your death in life experience,
if you haven't felt love slash its nadir across your wrist
and worn it like the talismanic bracelet of an unmentored initiate,
how are you ever going to transit zenith
as if you were crossing the threshold
of that thirteenth house of the zodiac
you raftered with your bones to accommodate your heart,
to cherish your own ashes like the mystery
of the afterlives you had to live through
until you burned like a star that had learned
the art of shining is the art of inexhaustibly letting go?

More doubt in our joy than in our pain, if
you don't learn to ignore your certainty to the point
you disappear into the abyss of an expanding universe,
giving no second thought to whether you exist or not,
with no nostalgic attachment hovering over your emptiness
like the halo of a black hole, how are you
ever going to evolve the mystic green thumb you need
to root sunflowers in the darkness like neighbouring galaxies?
How are you ever going to adapt to the things you cherish
if you can't endure the transformations that come with them?
If you skip the cocoon and go straight to the butterfly,
all you've really done is traded your birds in for a kite
that doesn't know how to sit or sing on the power lines
it's entangled in, nor how to negotiate the wind with wings.
You may glimpse the unattainable, yes, like a moth
at a closed window, wondering what it must be like
to be annihilated in a candle like an old love poem,
but the vision's not sustainable as a way of life of your own
until you've set fire to your own antennae like wicks
that are not consumed by the flame, or extinguished in the rain.

Spiritual diamonds don't forget where they came from,
their perishable beginnings, and though they can shine
like water and rainbows, their clarity smeared
by the chromatic aberrations of their colour-blind telescopes,
they haven't forgotten how to burn like bituminous coal
in a basement furnace, or melt the intensity of their emotions
like a glass river making its way to the sea or how to use
a meteoric explosion as a way of sowing adamantine insights
like seed stars in an immaculate ocean of enlightened awareness,
the life-mask of the inconceivable assuming form
to express itself as an event in time that outgrows itself
transcendentally without a revolution or message for anyone
but itself, thereby ensuring, given our inquisitorial nature,
that everything from stars to rocks to apple trees to humans,
overhears it as a revelation of angelic gossip
waxing the long after-hour halls of a demonic institution
that was founded synarthritically on the cornerstones of our skulls.

Zen might be the taste of tea. But if you'd rather spice the water,
do it with all the flavours of life, dip an eclipse
in the full moon of your cup now and again,
and let the darkness work its cure upon you like a spell
deeply steeped in your imagination like a school bell.
Attend to your shadows, not as a theft of flowers,
or the clone of a brighter garden you've lost your way back to,
but as mute voices with a grammar all of their own
deep enough to show you the stars you wish upon
from the bottom up of a well with fireflies caught in its throat
it articulates like chimney sparks, even at noon,
or when the black sun shines at midnight
through a clearing in the tree-line of the starfields.

The snake that takes your life grows wings
and turns into the bird and the dragon that uplifts it
with oxymoronic lyrics of fire and rain that are as real
as any symbolic gesture that plays suggestively with your heart
in the cauldrons and fountains of being
that elaborate you as you are, slack water in a mirror
that neither ebbs nor neaps, as the tides reverse direction
like a heartbeat or the flow of your breath.
This mysterious third extreme in between life and death
where everything you sought among the mountain peaks
finds you at the moment of your withdrawal
from your circuitous passage through the valley of longing.
And in every emotive thought, the serpentine wavelength
of the immensity of the transcendent silence
overwhelms you with the intimate impersonality
of its approach to you in every risky step you take toward it.

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You Can't Say (You Don't Love Me Anymore)

You can say, old things must end
You can smile and even pretend
And you can turn and walk away so easily
But you can't say, you don't love me anymore.
You can dream of what might have been
You can cry for what won't pass again
And you can say there's every reason you should leave
But you can't say, you don't love me anymore.
You can say I'm right you're wrong
You can make your plans to find somebody else
But I can't believe you can carry on
We know what should be said
But you can't find the words instead.
You say, old things must end
You can smile and even pretend
And you can turn and say you're leaving me for good
But you can't say, you don't love me anymore.
And you can turn and say you're leaving me for good
But you can't say, you don't love me
First just say, you don't love me anymore...

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What You Can Be

Sometimes we can't be the one we want us to be,
The dream that we once mold will always be just dream
Hard work and patience, waiting for the time to see,
The outcome of hardships are never meant to be.

Most people do moan, complain and are feeling blue,
Taking everything as nonsense, no one is to be true.
Time that passes by is tiring and boring too,
Nothing was ever done and hollowness will do.

There are so much chaos, frustrations and strains,
Peace, contentment, happiness are hard to regain.
Sometimes it's simply not possible to get in,
Desperately needed someone just to be within.

But why do we stay in a world of nothingness,
Where you can't find the peace and real happiness
Stand, go out and explore, feel the air that blows,
Be the best, show yourself and ignore the flaws.

Gladden your heart, cleanse your thought, magnify your soul,
Soothe your mind, strengthen with the goodness of all.
Be with your friends, good or bad, please don't be annoyed,
Just be yourself, don't wear a mask and you'll enjoy.

Spark your day, be grateful that you have led a life,
Speak to God, hear Him and you will be inspired.
Earn lots of wisdom from the experience we found,
Boost your confidence and feel no fear around.

For us to have a happy life and peaceful spirit,
We do have to accept that all things, we can't get.
Dreams are to be broken for somebody's best.
Just be open minded, face the task to its greatest.

If you can't be the sun in the sky so blue
Because so much clouds are hiding you so.
Why can't be a comet that falls high and low,
Though you are rare to be seen you'll be magic to view.

We can't all be the flowers that bloom beautifully,
And be the center of attraction for the people to see.
Isn't it more important for you to become and be,
The roots that get water for the flowers to gleam.

Likewise, if I can't be the designer of bridge,
The engineer of buildings and homes to live.
I can be the caretaker of my children's lives,
The molder of their behavior and their desires.

So what's the use of dreaming when images are blurred,
It's better to stop reminiscing and just be tough.
Forget the impossible and be realistic enough,
For us to have peace of mind and be on the top.

Don't lose hope and have courage, still you can be,
Someone with purpose, be productive actively.
Though you stumbled and failed in fulfilling your dream,
Your goal is not to end up, now is the time to begin.

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Patrick White

You Can't Embrace Me With Your Moderate Love

You can't embrace me with your moderate love
as if two arms were one too many to give someone a hug,
or one eye were enough to look at the stars in your lover's eyes,
and make up constellations you've never seen before.

I've never fallen in love with anyone who ever
made my whole body feel like it was a ghost amputee
who had never gotten over the memory of having one.
You can't read Braille without fingertips.

And it's either brave and suicidally noble, or something
drastically real about me but I've always preferred
the dark, dangerous muse, to the sunny cheerleader
who cut the bananas into my cereal just for the potassium.

No moon. No music. No slumming in heaven
when we take every other nightshift off from hell
and then walk out on the job permanently like a Tarot deck
to see how it feels to be a shipwreck on the bottom of a prophecy

that foretold, one day, swimmers and drowners alike
would be in it way up over their heads. And that's
when I learned to count on my heart
like an overturned lifeboat to keep things afloat

for me and anyone I love who went into exile beside me.
Got to be ancient starmaps in her eyes
like the return address of extraterrestials
who promised to come back one day

and make crop circles in the hay together.
And fireflies for back up in the long dark halls
of what we were reading when the stars went out
and we opened up to each other about our secret research

into the comparative mythology of each other's psyche.
Even at high noon I want to look out of the corner of my eye
and see in the depths of her silence, stars
hiding out in the shadows on the bottom of her wishing wells

and know that she's ok at either end of the telescope.
And I'll show her the sun shining at midnight
and the moon among the corals, and come up like a pearl diver
with new metaphors to show her how I can still see her radiance

like a lunar eclipse in a mystic moon rise just behind
the guile of her veils and the eyelashes of her tree line.
And there shall be no shadow upon the earth
that she casts behind her that shall remain starless.

And it must be well understood from the very start
that you can't put the wing of an eagle on one side of the heart
and that of a sparrow on the other, even less so, a dragon,
and expect it to fly very good or straight to the mark.

And no broken arrows of the promises
we make to each other at a rain dance for the waters of life.
And no sipping from the river when there's a chance
to swallow it all in a single gulp and satisfy all wells at once

without getting the waterbirds stuck in our throats
like the high notes of sacred syllables above the reach
of the black swans that live in our chimneys for free.
By all means, I want to see the light

but coming out of the dark like a nightbird
with a message that wasn't meant for anyone else.
She can be swarmed by faeries, she can
live on a menu of mushrooms and toadstools,

all the soft gilled things without hooks in them she wants
I don't care, as long as she includes
a banshee or two scratching at her wings like windows
to be let in to the inner sanctum of her devotion

like a black candle at a white mass for wounded voodoo dolls.
And if she wants me to jump through her wilderness fires
to satisfy her occult desires in a coven of one
that's ok too as long as she's enough of a firemaster

to know when I've been done well. Not medium rare.
And I won't have things fifty-fifty, a hundred and fifty percent
and a hundred and fifty percent, or die in the attempt,
because anything less than that is nothing at all.

Love when it comes to the hour of gates, becomes
the best of the other in the leaving, as your lover
absorbs in the turn-counterturn-stand of the perennial dance
things about you she loved at first glance, jewels and virtues,

and all the wildflowers a suffering soul puts out with generosity
that were meant for her eyes only, even you
couldn't see in yourself at the time because even
among the most enlightened of us, the deepest insight

into ourselves as embodiments of thoughtless reality
is always blind. And if you couldn't find what you wanted
together, you always find it under your pillow
once the other who left it like a parting gift is gone.

Don't want anyone after we've broken up
who doesn't know how to honour the memory of what we tried
to be to each other before we outgrew what we meant
when we vowed to console our loss of happiness

with peace and a gentle release of the moon
like a blossom from a dead branch in the middle of winter.
She can come to me flawed, she can come to me wounded.
She can come to me like an apostate sunflower

who wandered off the beaten path to follow the moon.
Selfless as we all are behind our delusions of probity
who remains to be a judge of character except
the most doubtful and disdainfully vain among us?

Let the death masks argue it out among themselves
who is real and who is not, who's been true and who forgot,
as for me and my house, I'd rather be loved than right.
I'd rather have my lover's head in my lap at the end of the night,

or mine in hers. I'd rather stand beside her
and look up at the stars together as if they knew
more about us than us about them, than feel them
hemorrhaging like supernovae in both our eyes

arguing like medieval theologians painting
a picture on the third eye of the telescope
we're looking at through both lenses simultaneously
eye to eye, tooth to tooth, one false idol to the other,

squabbling over whose lop-sided view of the paradise
we planted to live in together, is most worthy of worship,
the hunter or the farmer, the hunter or the farmer,
keeping in mind women invented agriculture.

Intrigue me, berate me, teach, upgrade, or refute me,
just let me feel your hand when I suffer
as if it were the wing of a bird
I was scrying aviomantically to see

if it had healed enough to fly, to make
my homelessness a big enough sky for her
to spread her wings in and wheel
on the passionate thermals of joy

that arise within me like double helices of inspiration.
And in return, I would promise her to never think
I'd found an answer to her mystery, or a reply
to the silences that abound within her

like nightbirds that just won't answer.
And if she's not in her shrine when I come to lay
a bouquet of stars at the foot of her temple stairwells,
or off at a coven somewhere with the Horned One,

trying to get a handle on my polyphrenic diversity
that can speak to the angels as well as the demons in tongues.
Shapeshifter though I may be, I promise her
by the time she gets home she'll always recognize me

in the form that most becomes her. I've always thought
that death was shorter than life, because
death isn't lived through even for a moment and if
anything lasts forever anywhere, it's right here

where we can dance like rootless trees to the songs of the nightbirds
and listen to the squirrels in the walls in the morning
stacking black walnuts like prophetic skulls,
and reach out to the waterlilies like dragonflies

that know how to interpret them like loveletters on the sly.

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We Take Mystery

Confiscate letters like d.e.b.
No natural course of things for her to expect
Withdraw the feelings 'you can, you can't'
I called your number as you told the world
Something is wrong
There is no longer any normal to me
You're my assassin but you can't see the crime
Pointless possessions of me & you & greed
I looked at you mistaking needles for eyes
Something is wrong

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Too good to be true?

Sometimes it’s wise to hesitate
And choose to look before you leap.
There is no point in tempting fate.
You may just find the price too steep.
Theres no such thing as a free lunch
there never was nor will there be
So pay attention to your hunch.
Examine very carefully.
What lies behind the proffered deal
The hidden hooks to catch you out
What do the honeyed words conceal?
They will be hooks without a doubt.
You are far too wise to believe.
The scams which fool the more naïve.

Sunday,29 January 2012
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.

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We Take Mystery - Early Version

Confiscate letters like d.e.b.
No natural course of things for her to expect
Withdraw the feelings 'you can, you can't'
I called your number as you told the world
Someone is wrong
Someone is wrong
I'll find the answer, you'll take mystery to bed
My sister coma she was always too shy
You told the story crying 'darling too good to last'
You taste of love just like the sex smell of me
Someone is wrong
There is no longer any normal to me
You're my assassin but you can't see the crime
Pointless possessions of me & you & greed
I looked at you mistaking needles for eyes
Someone is wrong
You are slow poison that glows in the dark
Such isolation is good for the heart
We will take mystery to bed for the night

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You Can't Lose Me

Oooh
Yeah yeah
You can't lose me
You can lose your faith in loving
You can lose the will to trust, you'll see
You can't lose me
You can lose control let loose your senses
Lose your strength lose your defenses
You'll see, you'll see, you'll see
You can't lose me
You can't lose me cause I'm not leaving
You can't lose me cause I won't go
I'm gonna be there like a shadow you won't ever be alone
I'll be the sun that shines above you
All around you everywhere
I'll be there
You can lose your way, lose your possessions
Lose your mind and lose direction
You'll see, you'll see, you'll see
You can't lose me
You can't lose me cause I'm not leaving
You can't lose me cause I won't go
I'm gonna be there like a shadow you won't ever be alone
I'll be the sun that shines upon you
All around you everywhere
I'll be there
You can lose your way, lose your possessions
Lose your mind and lose direction
You'll see, you'll see, you'll see
You can't lose me
You can lose your faith
You can lose your way
I'm gonna be there
This will never change
No no no no no
You can't lose me
You can lose your faith
You can lose your way
I'm gonna be there
This will never change
Oh yeah
You can't lose me...lose me

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You Can Have Him

(1951) irving berlin
I don't want him you can have him
He's not worth fighting for
Besides there's plenty more where he came from
I don't want him you can have him
I'm giving him the sack
And he can go right back where he came from
I'm afraid i never loved him
Sweetie he'd be better off with you
I could never make him happy
All i ever wanted to do was
Run my fingers through his curly locks
Mend his underwear and darn his socks
Fetch his slippers and remove his shoes
Wipe his glasses when he's read the news
Rub his forehead with a gentle touch
Mornings after when he's had a little too much
Kiss him gently when he cuddles near
And give him babies one for every year
So you see that i don't want him you can have him
You can have him cos i don't want him
Because he's not the man for me
Then i'd close the window while he soundly slept
Then i'd raid the icebox where the food is kept
I'd fix the breakfast that would please him most
Eggs and coffee some apricot juice and some buttered toast
Oh oh then i'd go out and buy the papers
And when they've been read spend the balance of the day in bed
So you see that i don't want him you can have him
You can have him cos i don't want him because he's not my man
I don't want him you can have him
You can have him i don't want him
You can have him i don't want him
Cos he's not the man for me

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You Can't Can Love

I don't know how the fishes feel, but I can't help thinking it odd,
That a gay young flapper of a female eel should fall in love with a cod.
Yet - that's exactly what she did and it only goes to prove,
That' what evr you do you can't put the lid on that crazy feeling Love.

Now that young tom-cod was a dreadful rake, and he had no wish to wed,
But he feared that her foolish heart would break, so this is what he said:
"Some fellows prize a woman's eyes, and some admire her lips,
While some have a taste for a tiny waist, but - me, what I like is HIPS."

"So you see, my dear," said that gay tom-cod, "Exactly how I feel;
Oh I hate to be unkind but I know my mind, and there ain't no hips on an eel."
"Alas! that's true," said the foolish fish, as she blushed to her finny tips:
"And with might and main, though it gives me pain, I'll try to develop hips."

So day and night with all her might she physical culturized;
But alas and alack, in the middle of her back no hump she recognized.
So - then she knew that her love eclipse was fated from the start;
For you never yet saw an eel with hips, so she died of a broken heart.

Chorus:
Oh you've gotta hand it out to Love, to Love you can't can Love
You'll find it from the bottom of the briny deep to the blue above.
From the Belgin hare to the Polar Bear, and the turtle dove,
You can look where you please, But from elephant to fleas,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

You can look where you choose, But from crabs to kangaroos,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

You can look where you like, But from polywogs to pike,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

You can look where you please, But from buffalo to bees,
You'll never put the lid on Love.

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Loni Anderson

There is no cure for emphysema, but you can start treating it and have a better quality of life.

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You Can Not Tell Me What It Takes

You have no idea what being treated demeanly means.
Or what being the victim of obscenities can do to someone,
On a mission to achieve with bleeding done.

And until you have been in a position to experience pain,
With others caring less how you felt.
You can not tell me what it takes to live my life.

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You Can Not Buy This

It doesn't matter what you have
How you got it.
If it is yours or not.
Borrowed or on loan.
New or used...
Attached to disconnect.
Stain resistant or chip proof.
The next rage or the last of its kind.
The flavor of the month,
Or something you picked up on Rodeo Drive!
The most recent trip I took with you,
Was my last.
And I meant that.
What I gave to you,
And you chose to give back?
Is not up for grabs.
And it is certainly not on sale!
You can not buy this!
I don't know what made you think you could.

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You can't Nip the Budding Romance

No one can nix true love
and nip the romance in the bud.
It will sprout again and spread its leaves,
Like a sapling of the plantain, cut.
Like a sapling, chopped at its stem!

Are they craving for, amoral life?
Why you sever their ties?
Bruit about rumours; bruise their minds
and assault with arms on them.
And assault with arms on them!

Their souls have been already merged
with the blessings of the Heavens!
You are yokels, what you can do
but to settle them with persons new.
You settle them with persons new!
---------

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