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slam poetry

since i have felt the sense of death
let us express our baser passions
the dawn was apple-green
what was it the engines said
the air is like a butterfly
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
on and on
to be able to see every side of every question
all quiet along the potomac
i have heard them in the night
there by the window in the old house
a thousand silent years ago
along a river-side

 



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