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A big, dark creature is the velvet landscape, Perforated, so that tiny origins of luminescence Freckle the breathing mountain’s gently sloped nape And validates the distant city’s inner flamboyance. The spine of wet tar, peppered with lustre, Arcs the creature’s hunch of a back - It summons me to the city’s sordid muster To wean me of myself and to render its flak. Instead, I think I’ll stay on the footed side of the nameless beast Where I can soak in my tatters and be but my own, homeless priest.
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
The Fool On the Hill.
A big, dark creature is the velvet landscape, Perforated, so that tiny origins of luminescence Freckle the breathing mountain’s gently sloped nape And validates the distant city’s inner flamboyance. The spine of wet tar, peppered with lustre, Arcs the creature’s hunch of a back - It summons me to the city’s sordid muster To wean me of myself and to render its flak. Instead, I think I’ll stay on the footed side of the nameless beast Where I can soak in my tatters and be but my own, homeless priest.
Alluded to the Beatles and inspired by the most elegant hobo I have ever met.
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Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
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