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Sunday, September 23, 2012



Sometimes I cannot believe and
That life swallows multicolored lights
Living happiness when numb
Using the word as shelter.
Puppet or scribbling since I do not care,
Just singing my praises
Drinking your eyes seductive
In rhyme and almost stubborn old.
Forgive if, indeed, go with it,
Bitter River of hope
And when luck, I feel, change
I hear the fantasy, and in such a clarion
Creating metaphors; liberated me,
Keeping the chest insane always open...


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