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Famous Poets

Facebook Jail 😂😁😅😆😓

“OVER-REACHING FACEBOOK POLICIES AS THEY WERE APPLIED TO OUR TEXAS NUDIST COLONY!” a poem a.k.a.: “Beautiful Dreamer!” Friday: November 30, 2018

“Your voluptuous girls,” Facebook-did-say;

“They’re-far-too-provocative! (pause) They’re NOT OK!

To-put-on-your-posts, so – your page we will close,

And all will be better! This-is-what we suppose.

YOU-ARE-EXPOSING T O O M U C H – we-must-hide,

These-things-a-from view; these ‘pics’ open wide,

More than WE care for – care for to see,

We’ll-throw-this-blanket-over-you –

YOU’RE – NOT – FREE! 🙂 – Aw, shucks!

We ARE the censors, and we have OUR rules,

To safeguard The Public – from lecherous fools,

And YOU – are a foolish- and nasty, bad bloke,

Who feels – and shows – way-too-much – STOP YOUR ‘POKE,’

For the wrong sort of feelings – your pictures provoke,

We abhor LUST – Don’t-you-lust-us! [and THIS IS] NO JOKE! 🙂 – !

Take-away – all-your smutty, ribald points of view,

ONLY SO MUCH WILL WE-TOLERATE FROM YOU!”

We once had-a-nudist-camp, where we tanned, swam and washed!

Even little children – in the air – parents tossed!

We used us some blankets, when we sat in our chairs;

We welcomed our youngsters’ inquisitive stares,

But ONE DAY – a Facebook, Incorporated Gent,

Entered our camp – with restrictions they sent!

He posted this notice:

“YOUR CAMP IS NOW CLOSED!

And you’ll-now-don-our-garments!* These rules we’ve proposed!

We know what is best – and a-nudist-colony,

Is NEVER appropriate – in OUR symphony!

So, you’re closed down for good; your exposure is VILE,

And your nudity, you lecher(s) – is NEVER IN STYLE!

The-human-body’s-to-be-clothed, and your children-weren’t-meant-to-see,

Anything in PUBLIC – even-breast-feeding – naturally!

For we KNOW breasts and the-groin – are STRICTLY FORBIDDEN;

They are private AND DIRTY – and, by GOD, we’re not kiddin’ 🙂 – Oh, my!

fin <3

* – i.e.: Community Standards!!!

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Famous Poets POETRY

Poetry

My family slept those level miles
but like a bell rung deep till dawn
I drove down an aisle of sound,
nothing real but in the bell,
past the town where I was born.

Once you cross a land like that
you own your face more: what the light
struck told a self; every rock
denied all the rest of the world.
We stopped at Sharon Springs and ate–

My state still dark, my dream too long to tell.