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They all come, and turn,
The apostatic hundreds from the wilderness,
Hungry as the lamprey, open-mouthed,
Impatient as an itch,
And virtuous as the grave.
Those that wait remain unsatisfied,
Barren children of a barren race,
Yet hopeful ever.
Severed from their mother womb
And ushered into manliness,
The fortunates groan and hate the light
And curse the hand that feeds them.
Out of the night they come, the suburbs' nuns,
Come to the cloisters and the cellars
And in the candlelight take off the veil,
Throw inhibitions to the wind
And chastity to fools,
As far behind, an echo of the past,
A childhood godhead is dismayed.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 9/18/2017 4:36:00 PM
Sounds like cottagers to me. I realize it is not but the behaviour is similar. Anything goes. You almost stumped me, smarty pants lol.
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Peter Rees
Date: 9/20/2017 4:33:00 AM
Your cottagers must be a wild bunch !
Date: 9/18/2017 10:07:00 AM
What is Viridi, I know that it is a plant based game, but I dont think that is what the poem is about.. This is very deep, but you lost me on this one Peter..
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Peter Rees
Date: 9/18/2017 11:45:00 AM
It's about "freshers", first-year students, arriving at university in the 1960's. Might be different now. Viridi I believe is latin for fresher or "green"