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Wednesday, February 18, 2004

BULRUSHES 

Silent as they've grown in deep water's bed
seeing up above the bottom, down a sledge
their short-sight shoots, its branches zooms
to tame the blue sky as it blooms.
Their delicate roots crawl in softly mud
where tiny fishes gathered as their habitat;
they stand like twigs of those green meadows
a sight-reach pole beneath, in a space windows.
Their bodies when cut, knitly weaved and daubed
will surely serve like a shepherd's swampland hub;
with sticky slime and pitch they merrily glow
Oh yes, they flag in beauty at riverbank's brow.

Sunday, February 15, 2004

QUEER THOUGHTS IT IS! 

Inept as it is
nowhere to hold...
a beauty so cleansed
beneath a soured notes
wishing just like the wind
to host a great wallow
unfaced
in a bellicose bow!

What is it when ask
the letter's not enough
by which to commune?
we toggle
within a crowded place
walking like beggar
huggling a jar.

Oh why we seem to bother
the foolishness of our own?
Oh why we seem to blister
the wound caused by own.
No matter what it might be
so weird as it is
seems to be queer thoughts
indeed!

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