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slam poetry

gone are the three, those sisters rare
last midnight
very well, you liberals
i walk down the garden paths
are you awake?
glooms of the live-oaks
melancholy, blue it was
will you glimmer on the sea?
do the boys and girls still go
do not grieve that it is over
now while my lips are living
tell me
i fill this cup
made up of loveliness alone

 



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