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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To search in the crowd For a mysterious face that’s strikingly familiar To search deep into the subconscious For faint infant memorie...
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Is it true I'm a teeenage goon That I be reprimanded this soon. Is it true I, ghetto girl, dress indecently That I’m a...
Monday, July 18, 2011
simonpoetically: DESTITUTE( For soldier-boys of D.R.Congo and Sierr...
simonpoetically: DESTITUTE( For soldier-boys of D.R.Congo and Sierr...: "Destitute Product of human Vengeance Young tender finger Firmly on the trigger Desperate Unmothered, untethered Soldier-boy D..."
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