<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/MrDaMan6710"><title>The Poetic Quibbler - Blogit</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/</link><description>Political poetry and social commentary.</description><sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod><sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency><sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase><items><rdf:Seq><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/601061" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/601060" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/600921" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/600579" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599666" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599482" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599288" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599210" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599047" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/598939" /></rdf:Seq></items></channel><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/601061"><title>The Trees</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/601061</link><description>The Trees by Neil Peart of the band Rush There is unrest in the forest There is trouble with the trees For the maples want more sunligh And the oaks ignore their pleas The trouble with the maples (and theyre quite convinced theyre right) They say the oaks are just too lofty And they grab up all...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/601060"><title /><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/601060</link><description /></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/600921"><title>Really! No imperialism?</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/600921</link><description>Comments in Politics, Reason and Passion has given me reason to post more than a comment in return.Really! No imperialism? Iraq and Afghanistan and recently Pakistan says differently! Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan have this in common. They are all regions of police actions with the goal of...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/600579"><title>Politics, Reason and Passion</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/600579</link><description>First I am AMERICAN, then I am Libertarian in my political philosophy. I am not one to proselytize but I do like to quibble, parse and debate political social issues from time to time. As a poet it sometimes comes out in my work. I try NOT to do political stuff which is why I don't have as much...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599666"><title>Swallowing the Trash</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599666</link><description>Swallowing the Trash by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) I ndecent perception is a subjective reality... Good and evil are myths exorcized of conscience and replaced by intellectual masturbation. Wisdom is beaten and battered by wishful thinking, bruised and infected, swollen and blinded,...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599482"><title>Clover and Glass</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599482</link><description>Clover and Glass by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) The faces of clover lying in fields of glass, shattered and broken, pieces of emotion distorted by reflections of hatred. Hysterical history, empty ancestral skulls gnawing upon the bones of the living dead. Gods and heroes angered by blood...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599288"><title>Lollygagging Around the Bosque Dell</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599288</link><description>Lollygagging Around the Bosque Dell by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) Making fun is not just a past time or hobby, it’s a manufacturing process, a labor of happy economy. Free time is spent on research and development of smiles and laughter. It is an investment in the future, in living. A...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599210"><title>The Rhythm of Picking Sides</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599210</link><description>The Rhythm of Picking Sides by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) C ircles of energy, electric anger in love… The falling sky, ominous and foreboding presses gravity upon the soul and the tribes of humanity groove on hatred. A luxurious love stalking insanity. Reason to rage at the Sun and the...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599047"><title>Politikill Passion</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/599047</link><description>Politikill Passion by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) The cliche’ season of human vanity. A marching army of mannequin insanity. Berating lambs with semantic shears, pulling the wool over eyes and ears. Wolves serenading sheep, lieing down in condescending pastures of narcissistic creep. Love...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/598939"><title>For the Love of Why</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MrDaMan6710/598939</link><description>For the Love of Why by MrDaMan Virgil R. Hall II (Randy) As we stand trembling in the valley of fear. Locked, cocked and ready to rock, dwelling upon the insistence of painful reality… the light is darkened by doubt. Are you my brothers my Cain… and my Able? What fear, what love, what evil has...</description></item></rdf:RDF>