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Cigarettes And Whiskey And Wild, Wild Women

Rating: 3.1

(from a song)

Perhaps I was born kneeling,
born coughing on the long winter,
born expecting the kiss of mercy,
born with a passion for quickness
and yet, as things progressed,
I learned early about the stockade
or taken out, the fume of the enema.
By two or three I learned not to kneel,

not to expect, to plant my fires underground
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Anas Affan 21 September 2016

superb written...........

1 0 Reply
Marv Davis 06 February 2007

your poem spaeks to the soul keep at it

1 6 Reply