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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Jun 2022
Ripped
Well, Paul,
I see no angels in the architecture,
I see gargoyles dripping giblets
and pigeon ****,
but this is London
and it's medieval,
and the ladies bring with them the modern
as if they'd just stepped out of *****
but you know what,
I still love 'em
sing me a song about that.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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Weeping willow
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