RIP Maya Angalou

bronzeage

I am a river to my people
Joined
Jun 20, 2005
Posts
49,685
April 4, 1928- May 28, 2014

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
 
Thank you Jesus.

A Maya Angelou book has always been as useful as fake ID as a gate-keeper, people see her name and get the idea youre OK. Now maybe she'll go away and her unread books will keep rotting on the stacks.
 
GOOD BYE TO MAYA

The time clocks,
still is the air,
the ancient rocks
don’t seem to care.

You leave your mark
to quite a few,
and then there's dark
and there's no you.

Good bye, good soul,
gone with the tide,
your song, your dole,
I keep with pride.
 
Not to speak ill of the dead, which probably means I'm going to. Am I the only one to find Maya Angelou plastic and her poems only fit for Hallmark Cards?
 
Not to speak ill of the dead, which probably means I'm going to. Am I the only one to find Maya Angelou plastic and her poems only fit for Hallmark Cards?

Well, that might be a little harsh, but not by a lot, in my opinion. She was never one of my favorites.
 
Respect

I always enjoyed Maya Angalou's poetry. You were good, Maya. Rest in peace.
 
Not to speak ill of the dead, which probably means I'm going to. Am I the only one to find Maya Angelou plastic and her poems only fit for Hallmark Cards?
well she did
it helps when the big o is selling
and she was over 80
chemically speaking it helps to have estrogen in your blood to respond to her poetry
I once picked up one of her books, scanned three poems, put the book back, and wondered what was wrong with me...
then I remembered I had two balls in my pants
maybe when they drop off, I'll look again.
 
well she did
it helps when the big o is selling
and she was over 80
chemically speaking it helps to have estrogen in your blood to respond to her poetry
I once picked up one of her books, scanned three poems, put the book back, and wondered what was wrong with me...
then I remembered I had two balls in my pants
maybe when they drop off, I'll look again.

You need to reconnect with your feminine half. You'd get double the poetry.
 
She was full
of piss n vinegar
and honeyed wine
She didn't give
two licks if you
dug her rhyme

She gave it straight
from the whores's
twat
Giving not a damn
about your white
bred lot
 
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