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"gonorrhoea" poems
So, you've had gonorrhoea, taken LSD, got lost in Paris and slept with your brother's wife. And now you want to write, to cannonise the unspeakable shame that taunts you. Like breaking wind in a confined space you want attention. You like the vanity of writing, leaving traces of yourself against a tree trunk, the thrill of not knowing who might sniff you out. It must take a certain guile to resurrect the lives of others with no apology or footnote. Life is too short you say. I say: sod the lot who cares what you've got to say, writing is the ***** extension you have longed for.
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
Modus Operandi for an Aging Poet
got at gonorrhoea go play go that Chinese board game called Go US first strike 2016 planned for Russia too so says Russia Today
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
The Game Called Pro Creation