An acrobat creates a love too long,
The aristocrat believes in some awful wrong,
But where are the buzzards of the age?
These dreamers defend the tasks to engage.
...
They war on us to give keys and secrets,
They war on us for reasons and with treasons.
They war on us to shake a fist or beat a bone,
They war on us to condemn and to destroy.
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Eyes and ears have blessings, too much for the heart,
And the passion that uncovered them was not the part.
Glancing with passion is thrilling like seeing,
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A bird is wrestling the wind with its feathers,
Even then the flight is smooth, as smooth as the air.
Best of the eagles are against the flight of others,
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Getting a good life has been a knowing disease,
A ready living haphazard that is your property.
I find people are kinder as the days go by,
As they travel like a boat on a sea, and not a river.
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At first you are sweet and the race of juice is quick,
Secondly the raiding of smells and tastes are to lick,
They are angry at you as well,
Their wrath is bigger than to yell,
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The road is long and hard to traverse,
A special place has arrived,
As people are everywhere,
And we are here,
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Xylophones keep the music simple,
Whereas sound produced actual
Music. Music is like dance,
And dancing is so like the devils;
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Seeing again must be prize worthy,
It commands a sanctuary, worthy;
This felt like eye and nose,
Then those eyes turned like eyes
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Fancy a jelly-like idealist, a manly felonious criminal
Of ill-repute; He does all that pain for your summary
And these poets carry pots of words on their heads,
Telling or reporting, murmuring or completing,
...