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Thursday, June 22, 2006

Little Inconsistencies And Non-Rhymes

This urban hell, This ode to life
A burning well is but strife
A sulphurous ditch with inner daemons

This plan of hope This bird of song
A hangman's rope very much gone
Has but one hitch struggles to understand the laymen

A man of song The lament of a tramp
Who breathes no longer into his beer can
Thinks life's so kitsch he one lived by dreymen

The death of one A creature in a field
But from a gun sees life get peeled
Is all stolen fun back to where it began to reveal

To see and to think The truth of youth
Is to reach the brink is the murmur of insanity
Of mortal understanding to older men
Or so I think. Or so I think.
Tom Gibo
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