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Old traditions Country brought to life again We smell a wet grassy field Hear the twang of banjos and the screeeeeeeeeech Of fiddles Smell roasting ham and sausages Look at growing pumpkins
Traveling is a part of who I am A search of me In a place I've never seen Weather buildings or the jungle I find myself in bundles I explore sandy beaches and towns where I am faceless
her eyes compress and wrinkle pure in time for once was ease, now, shelters dread upon disturbing thoughts perturb a chill down spine the first and closing vital thought at dawn
I am a lotus, once grown in the dirty, filthy mud A flower that resonates with the sun and the northern mountains filled with flood I am a buffalo who is big, stubborn, dark-skinned, and slow
We live in Justice, it might not seem like it but we have power Even those who rest in peace and sadly rest in Pride Houston is in a crisis Orlando didn't deserve it
Blessed   God opened my eyes this morning rather it is sunny or clouds, I am here to see another day and I am so grateful proud.
What Is Sex Really About?   Someone once asked me, what is sex really about? Is it when a man climax and your name he utters out? Is it the intimacy of the act between a woman and man?
WE.
I was born here, but I didn’t ask to be.My parents thought this place would be amazing. They saw a future of peace and love;Little did they know, it would turn out crazy.Where no one loves me, knows me, respects me;I wish this could be a dream, an
Orlando   we’ve got to get our    stuff together,       Mr. President  
Dear rose,   A hero that carries us all— Willing to caress us with a tender heart. Your sweet embrace is what holds lost pieces together.                 The Valley of the Rose.  
On the Day of the Sun, I heard Democracy talk about Shapes and sizes, Spite and spleen, Color and cologne Word and litter Hair and lip.
Dear Reader, here's a poem about home. i hope you enjoy. Rushing cars, aging scars. Honking horns and corner stores. People to and fro, not even a single hello? Text and call, bump and scowl.
You were a terrible friend. Words really cannot express how unpleasant it was to be friends with you.
Dear Life,   Why must you bore me? Why must I fill myself with blasts of RGB from a screen just to have purpose? Why can't you satisfy me? Why must I let you make me such a mess?
An old, faded map of my country hanged on the wall.Head high.Wings open wide ..
    {Ladies and Gentlemen       The dark ages       We are screaming}   The world has turned another phase Of fight long years and frightful tears Fulfilled with people country built off then
The symbol of my country Mean more than what I see A pelican flag is a symbol That is fierce and strong and free Our flags that flies across the land Waves red, white, and blue
Let the sky clear with southern winds To push the soil across my dusty home Please, please do not bury these
We the people the steeple of our country, that we hold so dear, do salute and sing to this tune even though we do not hear the pleas of  the land and its ancestors, the corruption we bring has been allowed to fester.
GOD is pretty great Founding fathers agreed to Trust a lot in Him   RACISM is bad No one really thinks it's cool Please let's stop it now   EQUAL are all men 
Reading and writing, They become a difficulty. The public is lacking Some type of literacy   Misreading the news, Refusing to listen.
Cowboys love their trucks and girls with long blond hair In Daisy Dukes and boots At the local county fair.   Cowboys love their trucks
America the Beautiful With the open fields and high mountains And the clouds dancing across the skyline America the Strong With a military protecting our citizens And our citizens protecting our rights
Is America great? I'd hope so  But this country might be just be hate Have we reached a new low? Is there a chance we might bounce back? Or are we too late to pick up the slack?  
The choice to succeed The choice to fail How do we choose? We cry in laughter We cry in pain Which one are we after? Our country, our home But do we feel safe? The struggles we face
"Does that star-spangled banner yet wave /O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"   You stomp on the weaker ones and ask why we can't get up.
America is considered to be one of the greats. But how can it be great? There are still people without food on their plates.   How can it be great? There is still a high fear of the unknown rate.
A loose grip on a wheel Used to guide a machine A titan fist drives an upheaval of frustration into a raveen Cultural Pride is like picking sides Its hard to get out of it It will get around you
Back in the day there was a boy, hardly a man, Struggling, going, and proving his worth Hair askew, clothes poorly chosen, with a laborers’ tan He used to find pity but now there’s a dearth
How far would someone have to push you To make your soul leave your body Only for you to live anew. Everything you touch, Everything you taste, 
Taxes Religion Freedom Slavery War Poverty Problems. America was once great. But now, we are only a shadow of our forefathers. We fight over insignifcant problems
Soup with only one ingredient, salad with only lettuce. Women, gays, blacks, we can speak only if they let us.   Indivisible under God, yet my country is rooted by evil.
America, land of the free, home of the brave America, scars still fresh, from the war bestowed upon you America, you are suffering, you are hurting America, ruled by the corrupt, ruled not by the people
Our national anthem proudly sings,“O’er the land of the free,” But as we look deeper to the colors of our flag, It was never always red, white, and blue.
Waving on top of the world freedom dominates Creating a path for people to operate The flag flows in the sky calling out to all to come on by The walls are closing and our foundation is breaking
Pledge your life to endless pride We only want total control Pray for our nation under our God As we commit genocide - Submit to the conditional freedom Or become our hated scapegoat
How can we be The land of the free And the home of the brave, When we are nothing more than a knave, an enclave, Digging our own grave?  You can hear their cries, The millions of sobs very loud and clear,  Those of a mother, mourning the death of
Oh America, thy love shall rain upon us. thou wings must be fixed, to fly in peace.  heavy the metals are holding you, you shall be let free. Thy people need to work as one, to achieve the max.
You know what you're doing You know what you've done Please here my plea I can't possibly be the only one Our country has lied Our men have died Yet we hear nothing Except what they say
Hello, I’m not a coon or a savage And I don’t live in the projects or eat chicken and watermelons for breakfast, lunch and dinner. No, I don’t live on the “block” and sell dope.
I used to think that my cowboy boots and pecan pie Were all I needed to survive As the summers were filled with the Fourth of July and state fairs A supposed sense of freedom was in the air
Back in Ninety-Seven, back when I was born America was far different; less hate and scorn Back when schools taught old fashioned, and parents had respect;
I am from Cadiz, from the ¨gator pond¨ next to my torn down trailer. I am from dangerous bike rides, dodging trees. From climbing rock cliffs and pulling off ticks.
Tell me we won’t forget our home, Wherever we will go. Maybe we will take the world by storm, Or maybe the world will bring us down. We will face the tremendous destiny of Europe, America will slam us,
The Election. My biggest fear. I never thought my life would come to this, Sent into this spiraling abyss, With family and friends, Neighbors and lovers, Torn apart by the threat of others.  
I wake up in the morning, put my cowboy boots on, and put some Conway Twitty on, Hello Darlin'. See my mom and my dad, with pride in their eyes, and love in their hearts, Hello Darlin'.
When the day turns blue I turn on the music Garth Brooks echos off the walls,  "Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers" With every note that lifts from the speakers
I dream that the country I live in will love me Like I have loved it. I am grateful But how has my country,which I left everything behind for been grateful back By fitting me into a group, calling me a rapist
A bullet costs less than a quarter A life is cut shorter   A bullet is made of lead  A life is dead   A bullet is fast A life's wound is vast   A bullet hits hard
Raise the flag up from half mast.But be prepared to lower it, this peace won't last.The flag may be hih for only one day morebefore we bring it down, our hearts so sore.
Nature’s vast wasteland surrounds her nest, Causing her soul to become anxious for delight, She must try to survive while being oppressed.   Her internal pain is never at rest,
You saw our picture, on Facebook. Wedding details and happ faces.  Yeah, I'm a lucky girl.  You had big dreams for him, falling in love. You were two kids in the front yard, all insecurities and young.
I am America, and I am the greatest country on Earth I take pride in my journey, destined for power since birth Like a mosaic, I am made of many stones and pieces Together as one, the American spirit never ceases
Children be chasin' stones like streetlights,
What do folks mean. When they say; I WANT MY COUNTRY BACK? Was it ever gone? Where did it go? Can we make time. Go back? ~ Ricardo
    The rustic life, pastoral scenes,    the basis of idyllic dreams    the simple ways of nature come,    its harmony in total sum.    These country settings, warm and real,
Where am I from? You ask. I am from the country Yes the one down east Yes the one along the equator, And yes the one contemporarily smothered in ashes And drained in blood Soaked in blood
"So what are you?" A question too familiar Years ago my mind would halt, frozen My heart would pound. "I do not know" I did not want to know.   "Are you Asian?" Your ignorance now shows
I trust my grandmother is well
A place where people love to fsrm,  and guys love to work their southern charm. country hicks like to go outdoors,  And do their gardening chores. Boys and girls go fishin' with rods and reels,
I am me,  I am a brown haired girl
Around the small pond   Three horses and a donkey   This is all I need
  the cracks in the walls of Istanbul purge themselves of cowardice every full moon. the apprehension seeps into the atmosphere and into my skin, tanning it just the right shade of confusion.  
 
A lone bird sings, In the distance a bell rings. On a big hill, Stands an abandoned wind mill. All is quiet through the day, And at night, a wolf finds his prey. What a beautiful sight,
Ain't given a chance For romance With education Ain't worth living  Without giving To this nation That doesn't want No talk About immigration  Especially those without legality
  You sure that man in the mirror is really me Cause it aint the man I used to see I've been pushin' that line for a long time Deciding not to see, choosing to be blind  
Armadillo on the road Armadillo on the road
Driving on an old country road Take me to natures mountain home Tennessee old Country Roads
Well girl its been a whileSince I've seen that beautiful smileand I just can't go on like thisspending another night without your kiss
Driving these six wheels, Strumming this six string. Sitting on a back road, Sipping that cold drink. - If you do it right, We're gonna have a good time. So crank up the music,
There she is on the other side of the road. 
I wish I could hug you, look you in the eyes, tell you that everything will be okay; that I will take care of everything when you're gone. But I can't.  
Him
A sea of dead bodies Lay on a blood-stained field. The dead are nothing but a memory. The last one standing is the winner.  The one who kills all the others- He is called The Hero.
The sun is up it's the crack of dawn, time to start the day. The roosters crowing,  the hens are laying, through the mist of morn I see a baby fawn, time to throw the hay.
City girl With a country heart Walks outside To her back yard,                   Looks up And sees jet streaks Left in the sky At night. Too fast. Looking up
She's stronger than a willow In a thunder storm Soft as a heart of gold
I ought to visit the woodlands; it is where I must return Inhaling and long exhales, enjoying the wood smoke as it burns The bright shining sun goes down, and we watch the rigid night fall enter
I'm a country boy Growing up in the fields of the valley's heights The stars bright shining over me The sweet smell of the pasture in the morning The fresh air and open land Animals roam wild
The fire glows in the darkened night, while the onlooker bows with his mind deep in thought, sitting on a broken, charred log. Memories sear his mind like the crackling and popping flames burning away the
I am the one the leaders should answer to, I am the one that began a nation, I am the one who fights, the one who dies, I am the one you depend on. I am the people!  
You can take your cities Your cars Your bars Your asphalt roads And tall billboards, And starless, Smog-filled skies. I’ll stick with my small town My backwoods roads
So many times you hear the word change.
Welcome to America! Where the image of women being depicted in submission Is easily found in magazines and search engines. The mask put on comes off before the morning,
Retirement of the Flag   The flag represents the American Soldier It flies in the wind as the soldier fights in battles
A broken soldier carries a tattered flag, Its frayed stripes representing his spirit, His boyish like charm stripped away, His sanity as ripped and torn as his faded Glory,
Miles away from home a soldier lies,He cherishes many hello's, and despites goodbye's.He risks his life, he is willing to die,He does all of this to see that American Flag fly high.What most people do not understand,
How could you fight the unknown with no remorse? When they are simply… the unknown? Like in wars, or battles How could you go about, scream and shout, over people you have never seen?
Land of the freeLand of the apatheticLand of the dreamersLand of the broken Home of the braveHome of the hopefulHome of the better tomorrowHome of the bitter
The country road is a dusty strip of asphalt extending farther than the eye can see The edges are frayed, crumbling Cracks pepper the road, a few randomly tarred over Little to see in any direction keep running.
The fluffy, green grass, Of the Midwest’s rich soil, Pads my barefoot feet. Deer, rabbits, and birds, In hilly corn and bean fields, Fill the open space.
Sometimes, As I watch the clouds drift by In these simple Oklahoma skies I think of how we first met.
For country and glory, It's the same old story. Fighting for a just cause. Into the trench, Shooting British and French. Artillery serves as applause.
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