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Sky Sailor's Handbook, Thoughts and Imaginings
The Flying Ship
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Nice Work People.
Aches and pains,
Heads with no brains,
The production of guns,
And corrupt men's funds.
They all rise steadily, day by day,
The lies build up, the truth gives way.
And soon, we'll all be dead. Who even cares.
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Who I am on face value:
Joel Macbeth
Australia
I am only a slave poet And my chains are those that are worn like armor By the most foolish dictators idols to their own grotesque Bury me with my flute, a knife, coins on my eyes And say you knew I was unrepentant
View my complete profile
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Well, You Just Wouldn't Believe Me.
Insult Me And I'll Probably Agree With You.
Kalatorm?
Nice Work People.
I'll Wipe Anti-Inflammatory Rub In Your Eyes, And ...
Tidy My Room, And Cthulhu Will Find You.
Note To Self
Pink Floyd + Fever Dream.
"Denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism"
Nothing Changes In The Abyssal Plain.
My Speed Dial
Jack And The Makes-No-Sense-Ending.
And Such And Such
the Coldly and Overly and Deeplessly Everseen.
No, I Don't Feel Very Well.
Multi-tool.
Can You Even Remember?
The Things I'll Do.
I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE DELETE THEIR FACEBOOK!
Me And This Girl.
Crazy Person.
You Are Bad.
Tired of You.
Make It Beautiful, If You Can
Some Good Things About Joel
Realness.
When Joel's Worlds Collide
Cheese And Wine.
Screw You Barry, You Handsome Man.
Joel's Haikus
F*** You.
I Am Zen.
Timer
Card At Random
Tired...
N.
My Soundly Soulful Silence.
Asymmetry
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