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This is about one of my teachers in my fair good ole school who recently told me I would grow up to be a bum. Which I have no problem with...I'll be what I am and I am not what I'll be.

Asks about me and a job to be.
Tell my devotion of the invention of emotion.
Pours his soul in a big paper bowl.
Moseys on up and hands me a cup.
Advice he has still remains crass.
“Learn to shake it or you’ll never make it.
The job placement tests, knows your future best”.


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The following comments are for "Gutter Dreamer"
by Cordle

i'm sorry to say but i didnt like your poem. one word that really stuck out was crass it just didnt fit into the poem very well seems like u looked for a synon. for crude and thats what you got. I also would have liked it if you had told us what the person had done with the cup that was handed to him.

( Posted by: Sweetyas [Member] On: February 12, 2005 )

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