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Poetry #420
(published February 5, 2009)
Supposing
by James Jason Dye
I was a lone giant at the top of a beanstalk
On a cloud filled with tears I would walk.
I'd need an entire village just to eat.
I'd stomp on them with my giant feet.
I'd smash them like I was the elite.
If I was a lone giant at the top of a beanstalk

I'd bash the defiant, like puny little ants.
I'd want to wear the biggest pants.
I'd steal everyone's pillow so I could sleep.
And murder every single sheep.
And no one better make a peep!
If I was a lone giant at the top of a beanstalk

I'd make the world carry me around.
You'd have to hug me until you drowned.
Or I'd chase you saying, "fee fi fo fum
I smell the blood of an innocent one!"
I'd be laughing as I watch you run
If I was a lone giant at the top of a beanstalk.

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The Next Poetry piece (from Issue #421):

Thrill-seeker
by Leah Mueller

The Last few Poetry pieces (from Issues #419 thru #415):

Fleas in the Thatch
by Nadine Gallo

Mike From 27th & Misery
by Steve Young

The Ashcan's
by Jonathan Hayes

Alive and Breathing in Thessaloniki
by Thomas Zimmerman

The Wind is a Bellows
by Pamela Tyree Griffin


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