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mannley collins Jul 2014
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Gullibility Mandatory.
Insensitivity Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Immaturity Mandatory.
Childishness Mandatory.
Monarchy Mandatory.
Capitalism Mandatory.
Conservatism Mandatory.
Terrorism Mandatory.
Corruption Mandatory.
Incompetence Mandatory.
Socialism Mandatory.
Dictatorship Mandatory.
Militarism Mandatory.
Liberalism Mandatory.
Bhuddism Mandatory.
Islam Mandatory.
Christianity Mandatory.
Judaism Mandatory.
Hinduism Mandatory.
Vedism Mandatory.
Hatred Mandatory.
Anarchy Mandatory.
Jealousy Mandatory.
Nationalism Mandatory.
Fascism Mandatory.
Racism Mandatory.
Lies Mandatory.
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Heart Disease Mandatory.
Cancer Mandatory.
Idiocy Mandatory.
Eco-****** Mandatory.
All of us Humans.
Of all Five Colours.
Wherever we be.
Whatever we do.
However we "see" ourselves.
What do we call ourselves now?.
How about shallow nitpickers?.
Or celebrity obsessed morons?.
Or religious hypocrits?.
Or Democrats?.
Or Socialists?.
Or Revolutionaries.
Or just plain "nice folks"?.
Or supporters of oligarchy  policies?.
Or immature backpackers?.
Or government assassins of integrity?.
Or juicy *******?.
Or swift tongued ******* ticklers?.
no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result
of our obfuscation and avoidance.
As if poets have the explanation to life
except in strings of meaningless associated
but fine sounding words.
When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind
and Conditioned Identity..
As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things.
As if .
Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
Hal Loyd Denton Nov 2011
Within The Heart Of The Rose

The blush enfolds the richest glosamor at the tip of your fingers that’s where the wonder lingers but
thats just the outward adorning go within to depths go beyound the veil you have ventured into nature’s
sacred dwelling cool night mysteries rest until the suns warmth leaves a fragrant excited exposoion that
ever so gently wafs into the consiscus vessitudes that draw a myrid reponses the creeking tree over the
vale this loving tale decribes its host ultimate tender nature so fragil a degign with pedels that there
greatest strength seems to be in the pixel colors they produce tilted forever in spectaculars arraying the
gradual play of light ever so softly engages delightful excitement would I speak of love then I must call
your name nothinng else is so fitting spill forth emotional waves they trully never languish they would
only slightly touch the water suface then from this enrichment go forth speaking all that lovers
demand and long for it trully resides in the heart of a Rose

— The End —