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Jingoism saved the wingnut (Concrete) by horus8
.
A
single
area coated
slowly with
a warm orange
peel cure grows
sick smelling hair
The man stares on through his curved lenses
God works on his tan
While sipping
margaritas
In a tourist
controlled
resort
town
Somewhere deep in Mexico
The bacteria culture grows eyes rapidly
As if potato farmers. the tree spirits giggle
And hand me a fig I have paint on my face
As my brush rests idle I can't seem to cap-
ture the wind against that twig no leaves
waiver, no winter this year. The sky be
blue, be blue the sky. Never again be
a cloud cry you no more, be wind, and
sigh for these lies.... Tomorrow bec-
omes covered. When last night
turned into future's....weeve
Adam has a pet snake. Eve
grows
fruit trees Lovers form one
One heart cleaved....fabrics
been dyed, now, on my loom
I silently weave, my
sleeve to my sweat
soaked and soiled
pillowcase, picture
the <there> Secret
naked ferocious fire angel <is>
Think embrace <no> Why ask in
liquid belly magic
<heaven> Change
self desire
<fool> Explore
the ghost dazzle
<only> of sister
night <the>
Perhaps from
eternity
<silence>
Question
two <of>.
Wear this
long vast
hand picked
lie <matterless>
stiff lust <space>
Have free caramel <and>
After wild perfuming <the>
your soft star lip blush <lack>
yesterday <of>Dance home <awarenes>
let us drink life in an old coffee cup <and>
Sacrafice the green velvet book of poetry <spoken.
For the fever deep throb of blind decay <dreamers>
I no longer pray
What's the point?
No one would
hear these
words but
me anyhow
you see ?
only what
they
let
you
+.+.+
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
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Arithmetic Mean: 7.266667
Weighted score: 6.9964733
Overall Rank: 91
Posted: August 21, 2002 4:24 AM PDT; Last modified: January 18, 2003 1:14 AM PST
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Comments:
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