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Mr. America (Hunting Season) (Free verse) by SupremeDreamer
Hunting season, the animals linger and I sit beneath the pine tree receiving judgement while I whistle a tune morbid and mocking. Dead rabbits strewn across my lap daydreaming, head full 'a wonder about when I can cook them and discontinue ignoring the music of the hammer. My pike decorated, with the head of my lawyer, the bastard said I was insane. I never liked the spineless turd anyway; a slight road bump, and now I have a fool for a client, but alas, folks always thought me so. That hammer pounds hard now.. seems the judge demands that I pay attention, causing me to throw my blade into his skull, shutting him up forever. Thank heavens, he was a boring little shit lecturing me like that.

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xxx68.164.242.1510June 5, 2005 11:24 AM PDT
Anonymous147.226.179.16810January 20, 2004 1:19 PM PST
Anonymous147.226.170.21910January 20, 2004 8:25 AM PST
poetandknowit65.101.211.1291October 21, 2003 7:10 PM PDT



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