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Sample_Student_Parodies - The pan must be hot…the heat of...

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#6600 A Dickinson Parody (Emily Dickinson in Isla Vista) What Balance I once knew—is lost, Hence I—thereby deterred— Tonight, instead, will make my bed Amongst the juniper. My Face—adorned with Hieroglyphs— My Shoes—lie God knows where— Yet Liquid Gold defies the cold Of chill October air. The smells of smoke, stale beer, and lust Come wafting on the wind, And soon—I fear—there may appear— Without—what was Within. The Stars shine bright—as cigarettes Tossed—burning—on the ground. I grin—for though my Sight may spin— I love this wretched town. --Andrew Hilty “Grilled Cheese of Myself” A Walt Whitman Parody [abbreviated version] I Celebrate my grilled cheese, For it is your sandwich as well as it is mine.
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Unformatted text preview: The pan must be hot…the heat of the Nebraska sun…the sizzles and pops of the butter…I too love these. It is the bread of the farmer…toiling for the crop of a new day It is the bread of the missionary…sharing his love for God with all of America It is the bread of the child…bathing in the river…knowing not the sorrows of the world It is the bread of the lawyer, the factory manager, the banker…what is it to have money when we have bread such as this? Come closer to me, cheese, Come to me out of the packed burrows of the new Americans…the foreigners who find solace in this cheese of freedom. The cheese is American…you too are American. I have lain with the grilled cheese....
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