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Friday, February 12, 2010

Rant 2

Trackless, ceaseless,
Driving force,
Screaming nightmarish followers of roses,
Only ever wanting more,
Bearing snarling fangs and banshee shrieking,
Like spoilt children,
Tending nurtured foliage like a wolf over a cub.

Deep breath,
Eyes close,
And plunge into the murky void,
The deep dank darkness,
Reeking of wet soil,
Charming ladies with the cheeky wink of a cyclamen,
Poisoning with the burning sting of insecticide.
R K Summers
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