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Post by glen on Jan 13, 2009 10:23:45 GMT -6
Terminal A, Gate 15
Three promised rejects languish over vinyl thrones, their snickers targeting the know-it-alls spouting advice on CNN. They reign in a domain of their own minds, these tattooed prophets, Their black T-shirts screaming "Misfits" and "Dropkick Murpheys." Their posture shouting apathy, anarchy and united opposition to "normal." Across the air-conditioned, humid, blue-carpet and forest of vinyl stumps, A woman of God in white and nunnly headdress smiles and shields a toddler from danger with her eyes. They sit worlds apart--the misfits and the shepherdess-- and yet they hold a common bond of metal, and jet fuel, and pretzels, and a shuffling line at 9:15. Now boarding. Will all non-conformists please get in line. Moo.
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Post by kd on Jan 24, 2009 17:11:17 GMT -6
wow, I like the way you connect the two opposing images with a common bond, but then the last stanza kind of threw me for a loop. Quite a variety of images. My head is still spinning. Who knows where it will land.
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