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Disciples Mark

Within the illusion a tangle mind weaves.
Pablo’s analytic cubes,
Dali’s subliminal dreams.
Into the looking glass and
down the rabbit hole we go.
Out upon the yellow road to hear,
improvisational jazz played with an M16.
To watch the capricious display of a
kaleidoscopes spin.
Where colors collide

and sanity divides; wishing to hide.
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7/23/2021 11:47:31 PM # 1.0.0.663