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The Kings of Paradise (Other) by Spindle

Dark as night with the day's own light the rays flicker and fall. In the dim below all things do glow the same one and all. Here Royals hold court on the proud wooden support yet never knowing they're there. None of them caring, yet all of them sharing that same knowing stare. In front of their face roam jesters in lace dancing round like the smoke in the sky. But suddenly light gives them a good fright and they all must say goodbye.

zodiac 10-Apr-04/9:29 AM
If you weren't, how could you possibly consider yourself qualified to talk about them like this? As it happens, the dope (ie, the drugs or the marijuana) isn't mostly consumed by blank-staring uncommunicative drones in dark rat-holes, meaning that this entire poem is a humungous nothing. What's more, if I were to ask you here whether poetry should veil or disguise its subject/meaning with ambiguous images and wordplay, you would undoubtedly say yes, which is a triple-word-scoring 'dunce' with an extra, ungrammatical 'Qu'.




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