Poetry is what surrounds you, the air you breath, the the golden sunset you see, the chirping birds you hear, yet the wind that blows off your clothes such that we see your naked mind.
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Friday, February 11, 2011
simonpoetically: MY POLITICAL MIND
simonpoetically: MY POLITICAL MIND: "My political mind Has turned me to one Who doesn't mind One with a dead conscience One suffering from memory lapse. My political mind..."
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