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Edward Holman
Poetry pg.2
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Evil People
Evil people make the ruts.  Along with this they
have no guts.  Always telling other's no!  Themselves
not knowing where to go.  Among their favorite words
are can't and don't and should have.  Their pasts
are exposed in their eyes looming like the grave.
If looks could kill-and they do- then evil people
kill more than a few.  They have not time for
kindness to their fellows.  With pen in hand,
they will stand by the inventions of new gallows.
Most times they will not follow, the basic
golden rule, and live their lives, revenge in
mind to make their fellow a basic  fool.
Evil people get off on pain.  Mostly that of others.
They wouldn't mind if you were blind or
bleeding if they had their druthers.  Evil
people refuse to wear their heart upon their
sleeve.  And then they cry the tears of crocs.
This is how they grieve.
Evil people never really win the game at hand.
Though they may seem to have their way,
their house is made of sand.  It will wash
away as many do upon the shore of
So evil people's lives aren't really what they seem.
So these people will not change , don't waste
your time upon them trying.  Or you may
end up a lifeless self aboard the
ship of dead and dying.
Car World
We live in a car world
a brick world
a glass world
a far world          away            from me
We live in a broke dream
a smoke screen
awake me          oh friend         i can't see
i wanted to touch you
to hold you
to heal you
but they took you        away       from me
Maybe i'll wake up
maybe i'll take up
my courage       again       someday
But today it's a car world
a brick world
a glass world
a way      to be
Song of Pleasure
I'm a cell.  I'm a video recording. I'm
a shell, because it pleases him and
may as well.  I was falling, but I picked up
my feet.  I heard a calling.  I was afraid
to retreat.
So when you open up the metal door
and slam it in my face.   It's the only way
you can ignore the fallen human race.
I'm a sin.  I'm a supermarket bottle.  Pizza tin,
because it pleases him.  So let me win.
I was stalling but I picked up the beat.
The cadence falling.  Sure I was brave
to repeat.
So when you empty out the quiet halls
and put youir fears to bed,  it's the
only way the teardrops fall down
from my lonely head.
I'm a top.  I'm a black conveyer belt.
A dirty mop, because it pleases him.
Don't want to stop.  I was in the hall, my
knees were on the ground.  They watched
me fall.  I didn't make a sound.
So when you pour your filthy, bastard
smoke into your only sky.  It's the only
way you'll ever look the bastard
in the eye.
I'm a joke.  I'm a civil service test.  Don't
count , I'm broke.  Because it pleases him.
Just watch the smoke.  The bed which teases
I'm an astrologic piece of an astrologic
pie.  Supersonic grease for a 
supersonic lie.  So if the psycho-drama
super group should learn the truth,
get the scoop.
It pleases him.  It pleases him.  It pleases him. 
Oh Brave New World
Oh brave new world, dost not
thou know.  There among the winds
did go.  A spectre who marched in
dark parade, more than any brave parade.
Oh hungry orb that spins the sun.
For all her children are undone.  No
mercy would she show me for mercy
that I gave.  Silent and slow who 
could perceive came the quiet,
lustless blow.
Oh fire sky, not one dare say,
how tomorrow brought today.
Though many go on speaking still
of the lifetime they will fill.
Oh lone affair has brought the
hand to hide the eyes of those
who stand, in the way, or in the
path of paradise and helpless wrath.

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