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Dec 2018
Redolent May sings,
lays of perplexing antique,
wooden rose flounders.
Fungi is in rout,
war of mushrooms is halted,
desolate treescape.
This is not a game,
the colours rest in spindles,
the flag is in truce.
Paragon of ice,
tractive glacier, no friction,
chronotropic death.
Scourged almighty sea,
symphonic ocean blasted,
tranced undertaking.
Mort, syphoned blood grass,
waving like entrails, flooded,
blood spins, grave now swims.
Gritty stagnant bole,
refurbished hybernation,
the scent come to play.
Reminiscent moon,
gather ye, encompassed light,
that we may know life
Written by
Michael King  33/M/Australia
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