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The many voices of the evening                    gramophone the sky voice the cell phone                    the tablet  the notebook, that monotone                    observer of mutations purveyor of maladies                    the persistence of memories, pale pink light sink burning in the fires lighting up the skies                    an old pang, smitten clang, the pain balm                    mug-life, pen-knife, kettle-strife, all the sheaves                    them echo-songs that haunt the drill-wells                    that are cut wounded and wear fetching chants, to an yearning oblation                   bay leaf, curry leaf, yes, them colander coriander                   there's a rhyme of charlies, looping from                   our holy wars to now our holy hours with                   the ombudsman, the omniman, the only God who used to thunder for the ****                  old Zeus, the Lord of Betelgeuse, him who we                  called dead, exhumation, exculpation, exaltation                  an ancient loneliness that calls from the nether                  depths, now science, now freedom, now pagan.
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
The persistence of memories
The many voices of the evening                    gramophone the sky voice the cell phone                    the tablet  the notebook, that monotone                    observer of mutations purveyor of maladies                    the persistence of memories, pale pink light sink burning in the fires lighting up the skies                    an old pang, smitten clang, the pain balm                    mug-life, pen-knife, kettle-strife, all the sheaves                    them echo-songs that haunt the drill-wells                    that are cut wounded and wear fetching chants, to an yearning oblation                   bay leaf, curry leaf, yes, them colander coriander                   there's a rhyme of charlies, looping from                   our holy wars to now our holy hours with                   the ombudsman, the omniman, the only God who used to thunder for the ****                  old Zeus, the Lord of Betelgeuse, him who we                  called dead, exhumation, exculpation, exaltation                  an ancient loneliness that calls from the nether                  depths, now science, now freedom, now pagan.
Have you watched Charlie Wilson's war? It could ring a bell to why Charlie Hebdo was so long coming. Though the piece has a lot more, just mine the memes away...!
prabhu-iyer
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
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