Mergles of contemplative work of night, Her speech is still as our hate faces before the stocks are: A grave I need not fail and longing on the same ass, and all the hands of sky is warning where good spells the silence in its ending of the universal land and I made a kind of world but invisible praise of course and cries, and there are many a giant signal in the nearest morning when I am bad will sing the cow with the crown with a warm lights on his way to the glass. Grace was still packing out of the pot, snobes on the wall into a cheap oil of her books. It was shoeting out of the air and left his pillows rolled out the door to the table after a cold small radio. Although I remembered the other work of the failure of a fighter, and they got a real bastard to be in the morning, the last of the personal country of the philosophy that crossed behind itching down carpets bent sidewalks and bolders they say about the many later, the order, that are in the direction but in a great minor that you have to hold it itself and clear theirs without any new fire, and that think of dying there and the concrete young woman that they were the time who would never teach a few days and another. I wonder if I had no idea hard? and it was sometimes there was a name or the terror, the wrong one unknown when the flowers are seriously and they want to boot and change about ten minutes. there was a bad suburb still there was a stranger. I wouldn't hope to be a message to see charked his face. I looked at her back for some millionaire, he got a quiet night a turkey tooth for the sight of time. Blood and she was so talking about our land. Rags, don't come down to the rock and white and young glittering there. why do they leave him in the face? and he said, "you'll see you." "he will all think about the bars!" and she was a friend too and the girls were like that which takes the speech. he asked. "what are you going? why do you'd have any more? perhaps what you did it in one of the states? man, honey? you see, he was a Friday night I saw him and if I walked off to a good man with them all over the bar. the dog blows him up and we raised himself the world and he said, "yeah, he's really some kind of old man saying somebody helped me, all right, I don't like the racetrack. what the hell? he won't die in a while the night is on the back and the garage while we're going to get the bars after the stale heart, that happened to Ceilin and as he was practicing his fortune. "do you want is I, or that time?" "I don't want your walked pink white brown check" I don't like the world wanting to stay a minute. and I went into a purple bed and he moved him out of the bottle and there was a little black way a cigarette stared and she didn't matter who was a perfect position; the other total winking and the way they had a few answers. there were nothing out there and I walked out to be a man on the train. when she walked over and looked out again: "no place to do there were always there, or the Markin Strategrass?" I told him, "yeah. I told him, the one we can look at me, "hey, baby, you have." and he said, "I'll go alone at your car." "I don't like to be 3 time." "goodbye." "how about you?" and she said, "it's published, he's a crowwand," I told him, a great man the jock was made a truck of bitch. what the hell, it wasn't his electronics and he gave me the candle of beer and said, "you see, I see this morning after winning screaming?" "I sat there let me from you." I walked into the corner and slid her study and he would have seven in a beer in the and the two bells he's a ditch at 2 a.m. away from the tiny house on the radio and I thought it was a man walked over and threw me in the front seat of a small town with a fight and then he's humorous and she was a bit. I walked off to her back. he spoke for the poor jailhood, I wonder if anybody was fightinate he would like, and I walked into the other thing of white shirt trestles there. I began to win the small rifted bones. they talked, they lived with a good lacket and wondered if she was not so nervous, and I can't speak to dirty photo. I didn't see him, he said, I wanted to know the other time. and I said, he said, "I'm all right. they weren't going to tell her could never be surprised. there is that or the way to her love mean, I killed my friend, I watched my day or like a can, boast your garage and you moved into the coffee of your creak beer and you come on from the bathroom and in 2 blocks or spit it on a window, he's again and it is an old man's soul and I walked across the street and it was just as rape and beer. she was her secret speeches maybe he only happened. and I looked at him alone in 1954 or 19 or 5 years old sugar and at night I saw a note for something he had a day-- perhaps to read the streetcar and spoils to me and he was disgusted in a strange song, they all was an old man unlocked back and in a glass of prices, but I didn't want to get up to the world and the last degreen said, summer and blood incessantly he was made in the morning, a dubiously and now the pure skin wrapped me out a cheap dock some are two hot under-tracked games, and he said but they can begin to believe that the next day was alive, she said, his wife I was his thought. who wanted me about it all; a child that in reality was the child pits of sometimes in the sunlight alone, Johnson was gone and maybe I could still be the ladies of gold of nights and shame sitting slowly and said, the first time there is not wanting to death, my brother, have a writer? when I asked me all the tanks of thoughts. I like the other bed to do. why does it happen here? she has a large experiment rage, maybe we are a got small twined as the spider. "he or I'll be fucked?" "never, even a man had served across the sidewalk, face to be a murderer, I thought it is the mail in his shirt--some pain no symphonie wasn't ever doesn't anything to do our judgments, and that's better say, but they said it was too many traffic lives in a old lady and the employment is not in the hair who were about locks of good with me all the other hearts that we suggested her for another (one of the state of all my women) who wanted me to make of him that he's born a cow in the great secrets of 30 dollars strong and memories in the basin screaming of straw a chair it was always the steps to go on the table and the cheeked lot of Christ after when you had some of the track and the next day was on a man said the black satisfaction makes the books to play with the buker in the machine ribbons of organ -- maybe their northers go when I cut loud to me around the hands they made it like to sleep and fell off. so they were at me, and I wonder if I wonder, I guess. we will ring them down. the goes can't get back the bed in the closet across the essence. then I'll use a good woman when I am warm will think they were going to get drunk or a clean man: it's like a cigarette. there is the girlsome--my father is a long time the time alone and my wife that had but being all right, I said, I got the beer from the house, ballad, and it is hot and offered watch fellow scrawled tight toward a piece of squares and the foliations scattered out of the light window. I bell wander the flying fields and the drivers and the heads of the best counter toward the first and the sunny wall, now they had to walk out of my little Los Angeles. I'm a nice day, the sidewalks come down protecting to me, the stranger looked are: the white man lay it in the table to me like and then the maized fault in the morning at 16 hor white flowers, the wallpaper sent me the world glad to plead on a bed, leaving me this in his books or the first thing now, a man fumes, and the girls in the eyes, and I wonder if that hell, I had no intense. just the corpse was because he was painted the dollar when he got out of bed and we were the secretaries back his psyched on a call at Barneye to like it that he was the same as the sun like a big woman in the airport, spilled a librariet again, first at a time, then he told me what it was some smart in skinnack and he visited her to his pond, a fellow still kept blue down. he walks a doctor, but she was a hard grown figure pulled out my back. I like. well, we got the rockets and ranks to come back and asked. "she write the night or somebody else. we're told, you never knew you when it will be somebody is about you. you will want to be yours." "I am a place befitting me." at her face in the street we walked out. "I'm going to get buck and I'll be here. . ." "yeah, you can't do it all your water." I felt like he said. that was stiff and I say, and I'd like to die in the river. then he always been in the dark walls, "I am going to get your name in," I said, "yeah, he said, sir, I've got to do it every day. when I am old and suck my words, let's get my hand and door, baby, it's like it wasn't , of his face. somebody went on and the next story you've got his fairy to strange about the stomach and it wasn't anybody and we were only better than it all was for. the grave is locidating the walls and gutters of the middle of my day of her self-shotgun when you do. I have cried about the type of Attical Street and bad hair moves through the woods, my father's first man had falled half and handed on me still into a water searchless and interesting words in a tenancine of revolution and bright stroke tears the port of some screaming the walls the radio here is down the stage of dark camps we die. I don't even probably do it, the wine got there before. am I the last time for the track to them and the sickle of the house is locked to me what they were in the trunk, and the dogs of the lockery little glint of continents and the mountains in their stockings and sae crash failure of happy near their cabin. the artists are rested in a brush, the storm was empty that was like an air and thread at Birl and I thought I mean to figure alone. the sun perhaps and all we wanted to close the room and the many of it was better some hunchelver when they do. he was a shipping spider. he was dead, I went in, half-drunkens and no hair baby. he was 20 years ago. but I knew that the guy was still must all match when he was the woman she was there. it was a man who looked at me there is nothing I will yet tell me a lovely one of his body. I walked down the granite with a big wheel. the next day he opened the black gut on the track and the simple window and the buttered gown and the dancing table room thoughts, what will turn the dead all the legs.
These are poems generated from a multi-layer recurrent neural network. Some small amount of editing was done... As of 2019, no editing is being done on the poetry. If you'd like to offer your editing services please contact us.
Thanks to samim 23. This uses a modfied version of the char-rnn api
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Monday, August 5, 2019
Mergles of contemplative work of night [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.720]
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