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	<title>The Beat &#187; Joseph Veronneau</title>
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	<link>http://the-beat.co.uk</link>
	<description>A poetry, short story and art showcase.</description>
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		<title>The Storm of &#8216;98</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/the-storm-of-98/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/the-storm-of-98/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 04 Apr 2005 09:31:01 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[The framed picture shows
the falling daylight,
the blizzard reminded the season
of its control over human priorities.
We stayed still inside,
stared out the picture window
with a quiet concern in the pits
of our stomachs.
The oak across the street
continued its demise,
branches looped down
into the shape of frozen bananas,
holding on for their lives.
Someone would slide by
and pull an icicle or two,
and [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>2</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Begging</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/begging/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/begging/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Nov 2004 22:09:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[A man leaves his house;
expecting to be pleasantly surprised
upon his return by his  son.
It was his own non-arrival
which put his son to loathe
to the  scalpers of love
so many years ago.
The man thinks he is only
a  dinner and a movie away
from resolution; consistently scheming
ways to get  his son alone with him.
I can’t [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Paving The Way</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/paving-the-way/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/paving-the-way/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Nov 2004 09:37:10 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Fall is settling in;
I see a flower  flailing
in its place, boldly holding on,
making the season acknowledge  itself.
I like this flower:
its bold demeanor,
its stubborn  discontent
in being given only months
to make its beauty known.
I  could take this flower
as my own;
put it in a clear vase
near the  windowsill,
and let the faint Fall sun
nourish [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Crippled</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/crippled/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/crippled/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Nov 2004 09:35:22 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[He will come to do
something
as he  seems fit
to do it.
Watching the carousel
of nameless faces
pushing  into cloudy hazes
of forgotten plans.
Birds and squirrels swarm
the  tree where peanuts
taking the pledge of their
survival
resting on a  homemade box-feeder.
The afternoon outlasts
his interest of loud  cars
and religious psychobabble
preached thru Christian radio
as  the last remnants
of an instant [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<item>
		<title>Aftertaste</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/aftertaste/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/aftertaste/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Nov 2004 09:34:46 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[On my way to work, I  laughed
in sympathy for myself;
making it there on the fuel
of candy  bars and caffeine.
At two o&#8217; clock in the morning
my friend and I went  to Denny&#8217;s,
where truckers and insomniacs alike gathered.
We contemplated  reincarnation, &#8220;what will I be?&#8221;
&#8220;I know I don&#8217;t want to be a piece of [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Bittersweet</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/bittersweet/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/bittersweet/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 15 Jul 2004 22:11:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[As the videos played,
I glanced over
at her with the definitive need
speeding up my lungs: I needed
her glance, her gaze,
but she could barely look at me,
her nervous demeanor drenched
anything from happening.
I put it poetically
let me touch your hair
and I did because you let me,
I didn&#8217;t want to intrude.
I was melting there beside you
on that couch,
knowing that [...]]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
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		<title>Restraints</title>
		<link>http://the-beat.co.uk/restraints/</link>
		<comments>http://the-beat.co.uk/restraints/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 15 Jul 2004 22:10:07 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Joseph Veronneau</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Feeding the tubes into her,
they tie her hands and feet down.
She scratches the air with words
as her only defense;
they make the knots tighter.
The body will renew itself
no matter how they have to
hurt it initially.
Eating generic food later that day,
she sees the scarred branches
nod in the wind like suture hairs
]]></description>
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