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Dragging the wine
He saw it In my eye's
A little sprinkle
from the pines,
Little crinkle in the vines,
What a pencil
drawing up signs
Nobody else
…could see have seen me at that time
It was time
for revolution
People act fine
But they are only here for their crimes
So what is all this?
A loop hole?
Or an archaeological find?
In the trees, there is terror of the season of the mind
Makes prideful
to the resistant,
and the christened
but not to my sisters
and brothers alike
Jesus was right
always
-just like your anger is fright
always
its all fright
spring loaded contraptions angled real sly
shooting rocks and bribes
squaring off the moon
magnifying the sky
add two meteorites
and a generation of the blind
and you will have my mind
flippant and fly
you will carry the eye's
welcome and kind
dragging a bag full of wine
wearing your check near your heart
and walking with chime
such a scene to be drawn by musical lines
to refine that little unwind
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