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"venice" poems
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.   Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them. Here then is what I might call                                                   My Reverse Bucket List Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere    Barcelona, Spain    Venice, Italy    Oxford, England    Jerusalem, Israel    Luxor, Egypt    Varanasi, India    Hiroshima, Japan Pompeii, Italy Other locations    Galápagos islands, Ecuador    Great Barrier Reef, Australia    North Woolwich, London Churches    St Paul's Cathedral, London    Sagrada Familia, Barcelona    Coventry Cathedral    Córdoba Cathedral, Spain    Blue Mosque, Istanbul Other structures    Taj Mahal, Agra    Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland    Royal Festival Hall, London    London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.    Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)    Bayeux Tapestry     "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England    "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil Events    Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife    St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)    Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997    Oberammergau passion play, 2010    Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
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Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Bucket List? -- Not Me!
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.   Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them. Here then is what I might call                                                   My Reverse Bucket List Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere    Barcelona, Spain    Venice, Italy    Oxford, England    Jerusalem, Israel    Luxor, Egypt    Varanasi, India    Hiroshima, Japan Pompeii, Italy Other locations    Galápagos islands, Ecuador    Great Barrier Reef, Australia    North Woolwich, London Churches    St Paul's Cathedral, London    Sagrada Familia, Barcelona    Coventry Cathedral    Córdoba Cathedral, Spain    Blue Mosque, Istanbul Other structures    Taj Mahal, Agra    Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland    Royal Festival Hall, London    London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.    Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)    Bayeux Tapestry     "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England    "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil Events    Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife    St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)    Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997    Oberammergau passion play, 2010    Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
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38
the first day i spent in Venice, CA i bought the 2 most ster e o typical things Number 1 was my medical marijuana license Number 2 was my skateboard I’m not very good at skateboarding but when you shred on the boardwalk people get out of your way faster and thats really all i wanted
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
my skateboard
Come with me, lets runaway darling. Let's get out of this old town, & see what comes our way. Grab nothing princess, let us just go. Our whole world is a show. We can fall in love in Paris, or roam the streets in Venice. We'll sleep in the hills of Tennessee, & wake up & see the sun in your eyes. Come & run away with me, darling. The world is our destination.
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Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
Runaway Darling
Iago, the self-serving menace Knew how to play people like tennis Got inside a guy's head Now everyone’s dead Including the poor moor of Venice
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Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 1:57 PM UTC
Literary Limericks: Othello
Conversation opened. 1 read message. Skip to content Using Gmail with screen readers in:sent Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail.   Learn more  Hide 1 of 184 QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]> 3:38 AM (56 minutes ago) to Daniel SOAR OWNERSHIP / UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED  PILGRIMS/ By the creditor at cyprus  and on other grounds: The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant  kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath  the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great  ones of the machinery  citation /  Worth  pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era:   Closet  by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs /  ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles:  Moon ship's  amnesty crest reckon  'flaskbone SpurZebra...'  Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation  Outpouring  / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego  the-Outward acclimation :   Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less  losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions  cuss ion syn chronicutensils  'asylum  systems  beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries  hijack travels  history/Wherein of plant  hours ' spicily spoke *****  Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies  'ago-maximize promptly  alacrity;  Exhibition the underrating  besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune  slaughter Cheap Hill Chips EMAIL: [email protected] +2348131914240 Click here to Reply or Forward 0.04 GB (0%) of 15 GB used Manage Terms - Privacy Last account activity: 49 minutes ago Details
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
PEARL 'TRINITY ERRANDS
Conversation opened. 1 read message. Skip to content Using Gmail with screen readers in:sent Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail.   Learn more  Hide 1 of 184 QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]> 3:38 AM (56 minutes ago) to Daniel SOAR OWNERSHIP / UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED  PILGRIMS/ By the creditor at cyprus  and on other grounds: The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant  kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath  the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great  ones of the machinery  citation /  Worth  pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era:   Closet  by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs /  ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles:  Moon ship's  amnesty crest reckon  'flaskbone SpurZebra...'  Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation  Outpouring  / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego  the-Outward acclimation :   Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less  losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions  cuss ion syn chronicutensils  'asylum  systems  beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries  hijack travels  history/Wherein of plant  hours ' spicily spoke *****  Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies  'ago-maximize promptly  alacrity;  Exhibition the underrating  besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune  slaughter Cheap Hill Chips EMAIL: [email protected] +2348131914240 Click here to Reply or Forward 0.04 GB (0%) of 15 GB used Manage Terms - Privacy Last account activity: 49 minutes ago Details
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i would say i fell for you just like a child but i fell for you harder than that i fell for you just like an embryo may fall for the hope that he'll be born only to be aborted way too soon. you were every inch of my hope of being alive. you were darkness but only darkness refined you were the nights we took acid in venice beach looking for real excuses to be high we found oceans of friends flooding waves of laughter, i remember clinging to your chest your pale face lit by neon diner windows looking up into the sparkle of your (god i swear they were) silver eyes and getting caught in the under toe. you left me flat, gave me a vow and went on home. you broke my heart like a wishbone. i suffer still from scars three years on.. and i can't even remember your name, Scorpio.
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Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Scorpio
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙ Drowsy, as the eyes of mine sleeps a joyride of fantasies, a jumping of sheep so, the pages turning mama would red while my feet are falling and my arms up my head, hands unsaid with a gentle rock and a soft abye I'm off to dream land as I fly silk of red swooped to the entrance gate a little slip, a little slide till it fade and gently I landed at the pearly lake A boat by Venice caught me alone with the breeze scented, so cold as snow and Grims hoisting a whooper a sure one they'll never throw passing here and there and off they go storms of Neptune came up the sea big waves flung, I swung towards east clovers led me to an isle and said "How Lucky you'll always be" no more thunders but just all reverie A twirl to the woods, exciting it be with beams of the moon and the stars sitting on the tree lights flashing, a calm of ebb the spiders glistening, an artistic web dream land is promising like vines that whip and crawl bearing fruit to bless us as we call with roses of red, daisies blooms at dew mama's lullaby at once, I knew
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Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
The Diary of Dream Land: I (Drew's Entering)
l'm like Venice, every night , full of cheerful lanterns that boatmen carry. l'm like Venice. you're like the water that every midnight, when all the boatmen are asleep, is awake and talks to me.
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
Venice
Portia and Bassanio Brave Portia's lot was cast Inside a mocking case of lead, Morrocco came and passed, Then Arragorn, arrived and left, forlorn. A list of louts came, failed, and went Before Bassanio played his turn... Poor rich Portia's patience spent, Nerissa's lady solace yearned Antonio, Bassanio, a troubled pair A wily shark a loan arranged, Whose bite, though small, Beyond compare aimed deepest To the matters of the heart. Antonio, about to lose his fortune, Bemoaned the losing of a friend, The foiling of a fortune, sunk. Shylock, certain of his pound of flesh, Summarily dismissed by gentile gender-bending, Played as a fool by a woman posing as a man, Who drove a lawyer's visage in a Portia. All ended well, at least for "Christian" men... Life sweetened by the turning of a Jew, No matter his conversion at duress... Straight away Portia and Nerissa turned back A ******* borrower who had landed on his feet, And sprang their traps to tame their husbands' heat.
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Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Portia and Bassanio (Merchant of Venice)
Meandering like its canals Venetian streets sing underfoot. Who wore away the stone cobbled streets? Who walked down to the shore? Who gazed out at the Adriatic? Who's dreams were lost in Venice's stream of streets? Licentious lovers loved in Venice's streets, kissed on her bridges, Crossed under by gondola and over by foot. Proposed at the piazza San Marco. Kissed, while the Grand Canal wound her way down. Down into the sea, where the menace that is the world, Venice shuns. Rialto, Doge, Basilica, St. Marks, pigeons! All evoke that lagoon city of streets. Originally refugees, incolae lacunae ("lagoon dwellers") Venetians, gave not only a place for the dispossessed, but a place for the world to see, feel and taste. Art, war, politics, commerce, spice and silk. Venice with her ribbon of streets, alleyways and bridges saw the Renaissance, the crusades, and the Black Death. Glassware, paintings, sculptures, religion, refugees all synonymous with that floating city. A city returning to the water she arose from. Subsiding with grief as she drowns in elegant decay.
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Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Venice streets.
Gorgeous blue skies Disneyland magic World of Color Pacific cruisin' Beverly Hills bravado Venice Beach eccentrics Celebrities' celestial abodes California Screamin' Yet it's for you I'm dreamin'
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Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
California Dreamin'
Strolling along in Venice With a shopping cart as home Traveling through the city’s streets Not homeless alone. “This is it, Jerry!” Then a shot rang loud Our shock was spoken Then we looked around Our shopping cart was stolen Our little turned to none With little arguing or discussion The chase had now begun Running through the streets of Venice Without a shopping cart or home Frenzy in the city’s streets Shopping cart-less alone.
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Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Homeless in Venice
There's a little boy that hides in the dark corners of my soul. He doesn't want to be hurt anymore. I spent eight years with Beth. For the most part, it was hell and constant pain. She made nightmares look good. I heard the little boy cry late into the silky night, while snails got smashed on the streets of Ventura. When I drank, which was often, the little boy seemed at peace for awhile, while swans were murdered in Venice, and I tasted the ashes of Neruda. Years flew by like seagulls; up down and darting. The little boy continued to hide in the dark corners of my soul. He wanted to come out and be loved. He was thirsty for it, but there wasn't any around. It was dry, like the deserts in hell. It's too late for sorries here comes the plow. He began to see the pattern of life. Some monsters walk in the light. Vulnerability equals pain. The little boy got mean. And now he carries a knife.
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Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 12:33 PM UTC
The Dark Corners of My Soul
Dear Friends, this poem was composed many years ago and posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. Time here is compared to the money lender and miser Shylock in Shakespeare’s ‘Merchant Of Venice’, where Shylock insisted on cutting out a pound of flesh from the merchant Bassanio, for having failed to pay back the loan taken from Shylock! Hope you like it, - Raj                 TIME THE GREAT USURER       TIME the great usurer, is a great miser too,       Always knows the cost of things to be paid       back by you!       It readily loans you the desired amount in       number of years.       Smilingly assures and allays all your doubts       and fears.       It makes the loan to appear like a free gratis,       So you hardly bother to take any notice!        But with the passage of growing years and life depleting with time,        In paying back your interests, you got to        default sometime.        Precisely at that moment, the usurer knocks        rather loud,        And through death takes back its’ principal        amount !               Alas, Time the great Shylock knows the cost        of everything.        When will it learn to appreciate the value        we attach to things?                                              -Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
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Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 12:02 PM UTC
TIME THE GREAT USURER !
A new refrain, something fresh for the tongue. A bright lemon in the wake of chocolate and chilis. Something softer, less harsh. Not quite sweet. I could never stand saccharine sentiment. Not too sour, acid leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Not ice cream. Italian ice while walking the streets of Venice, smiling and nodding at the men whose words we can’t understand.
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Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 7:59 PM UTC
Venezia
Venice is cyan in the soft, early morning The canals look clean
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Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
Venice
(To Ellen Terry) I marvel not Bassanio was so bold To peril all he had upon the lead, Or that proud Aragon bent low his head Or that Morocco’s fiery heart grew cold: For in that gorgeous dress of beaten gold Which is more golden than the golden sun No woman Veronese looked upon Was half so fair as thou whom I behold. Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield The sober-suited lawyer’s gown you donned, And would not let the laws of Venice yield Antonio’s heart to that accursed Jew— O Portia! take my heart: it is thy due: I think I will not quarrel with the Bond.
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3.4k
Portia
Mother’d say, don’t go by How blue a man’s eyes are, But by the size of his bank Account, and she thinks on That now, taking a sip of wine, Holding a cigarette, some things You don’t forget, some things Are branded into the brain, Especially Mother’s words, Her philosophy, her way of Viewing the world. She pauses, Watches her husband parking The car from the window, the Way he walks around it, gives The door handles a pull, taps The bonnet like some ****** *** Yes, hubby’s got the dough, Got the big bank account, buys Her expensive clothes, rings and Pretty much other things, but love, Affection, that sitting side by side Holding hands and kissing sort Of thing, he just can’t bring, has No clue what to say or what to do. Sure he has the connections, the Right kind of friends, takes her To parties, to functions, gets her To meet the Mr Bigs and their hold On the arm, give a pretty smile, wives, But he doesn’t give her love, or know How she feels or if she wants children Or not or how well she is or if she’s Got the pox. Sure, he can **** her as Good as the next guy, give her a car, A necklace, get her to see Paris, Venice Or wherever, but he can’t give her that Deep down sense of being wanted, of Being needed for who she is, just like The rest of the wives she knows, an arm Hanging, pretty smile wearing, well dressed, Bright eyed wife, but unloved, unneeded Just another possession for him to have And hold, with a beautiful complexion, But with a heart grown bitter and cold.
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Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
UNLOVED.
Mother’d say, don’t go by How blue a man’s eyes are, But by the size of his bank Account, and she thinks on That now, taking a sip of wine, Holding a cigarette, some things You don’t forget, some things Are branded into the brain, Especially Mother’s words, Her philosophy, her way of Viewing the world. She pauses, Watches her husband parking The car from the window, the Way he walks around it, gives The door handles a pull, taps The bonnet like some ****** *** Yes, hubby’s got the dough, Got the big bank account, buys Her expensive clothes, rings and Pretty much other things, but love, Affection, that sitting side by side Holding hands and kissing sort Of thing, he just can’t bring, has No clue what to say or what to do. Sure he has the connections, the Right kind of friends, takes her To parties, to functions, gets her To meet the Mr Bigs and their hold On the arm, give a pretty smile, wives, But he doesn’t give her love, or know How she feels or if she wants children Or not or how well she is or if she’s Got the pox. Sure, he can **** her as Good as the next guy, give her a car, A necklace, get her to see Paris, Venice Or wherever, but he can’t give her that Deep down sense of being wanted, of Being needed for who she is, just like The rest of the wives she knows, an arm Hanging, pretty smile wearing, well dressed, Bright eyed wife, but unloved, unneeded Just another possession for him to have And hold, with a beautiful complexion, But with a heart grown bitter and cold.
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Skin as White as Winter Snow Legs as Boundless as the Sea, Stationed in Venice or Bordeaux From Blue-collar to Bourgeois. Hair is Chic, Yet not Pristine Soft and Cropped and Fine, Cheekbones High a Distinct Ravine Embellished by a High Neckline. Undefined Peaks and Troughs   Cumbersome and Lank, Garnished in the Finest Cloth Awash with Unassuming Swank. Miss Androgynous hear my call For I've Become a Virile Gent, I Yearn for your Unwieldy Frame That God in Heaven Sent February 2011
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Apr 3, 2011
Apr 3, 2011 at 3:11 PM UTC
Miss Androgynous
Traveled across the world, traveled to see my baby girl. My one and only love, sent down from the heavens above. Our love was perfect, nothing could hurt it. So we traveled the world, traveled with my baby girl. Do you remember our love? Do you remember the morning sun? Do you remember Venice, do you remember our final kiss? Spent our lives together, for what felt like forever. But forever wasn't enough, when the going got tough. You gave up on me,. in Venice, Italy. Spent our lives together, a wasted forever. Do you remember our love? Do you remember the morning sun? Do you remember Venice, do you remember our final kiss?
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Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 5:01 PM UTC
Venice
dying in your arms I would accept laughingly like being shipwrecked on the coast of Venice
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Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Shipwrecked
I arrive at the barbers for my weekly, my usual, and you are there, sitting in my seat crying. I lift you up, cape and all, take you round the corner, where you tell me you are sorry but we have to go to Brighton now, even though it is 6pm on a Friday and we won’t be done until 2pm tomorrow. Is it a ruse? I think so, because suddenly we are in a part of London that looks like Montmartre (or it could be Richmond masquerading as Venice) and we meet a man called Tricks who says he’s the new chief now because he knows the location of all the bones. And then there are scanners at airports, walk-in health centres, families in North Carolina with names like Kayleigh and Shauna. And when we are done meeting them we are back, you in the chair, glowing blue under barbicide lights.
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Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 4:10 AM UTC
Barbicide lights
remember mr shakespeare he was very bright he wrote lots of plays hamlet and twelfth night the merchant of venice the taming of the shrew othello and king lear just to name a few he was born in england many years ago with the name of william that everyone would know he wrote lots of poems in between the plays thats how mr shakespeare used to pass his days now is name lives on to this very day the name of mr shakespeare will never go away.
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Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 3:01 AM UTC
mr shakespeare
I'm just getting in the bath, Someone else wrote the letter, I don't want to make a. Mess. Draw me the water I point at the tap Burden no family Hold my head under icecaps. Merkel Cells, diluted sensation, The end of fingertips cant feel your Flesh. Shriveling in the cold, Shivering to stop freezing, But I cant. What am I doing? Can I want this now, errectores pilorum erected. Have I set motion to, Cogs in a watch I cant adjust. my lungs mark absolute zero this is me sitting in chemistry class english 10th grade asking sam to suffocate with me every alvioli is pinned by ****** as thick as knitting needles my chest is permafrost my sternum, antarctica the ribs hollow out capillary beds lose all the haem out of their erythrocytes I'm losing St. Elmo's Fire. The baths still panting out, Water roars, gushing spout. Proud the current sweeps me through, The porcelain lining this white hell bathroom. It's bone cannot hide from my blood, As if I'm isotope 226 of Radium. Heat seeking marrow. My serum is Hodgkins Lymphoma, Tearing through sheeting tile, Like a young cancer child, Afflicted, Leukemia, No chance, No good blood left, To let. Soon, it will all be gone, and the rivers that freeze in my arms, and the ribs that are icicles form, and the atrial canal is not like Venice, it is the Rhine in winter, the Volga during the solstice. Spring will never come again. Spring slipped its head into the bath water, like my own.
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Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
30% erssss