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Jul 2017
oh poopee p'ooh...
   please don't
distract me from
what could
never be your fancy
of worth
interests that
   i find more to
be my taste, esp.
  in terms of sunday
mornings
  and a smashed t.v.
and a radio
that hasn't been
turned on...
    it's hard to feel
jealous when there's
this thing called
  mob-rule...
   or at least that
one aspect that can
turn itself into
    a fickle prescence
    that desires protests...
funny...
  some people deserve
graves...
  others, statues...
i wonder which party
has an r.i.p. acronym
engraved above their name...
as so many are laid
to rest,
   the few are being
kept awake and constantly
agitated to give answers...
   ah...
   communism makes
even more sense
in a graveyard than
  when being applied to
resurrecting nations
    like those waiting nations
akin to syria...
     the collective hush...
  the forest of marbles
and of other less precious
stones...
       then again...
           animate the dead
by cremating them
and into the fire, rather
than the earth, and hey presto!
1 billion blue indians!
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  36/M/Essex (England)
(36/M/Essex (England))   
146
 
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