poet_hawtin
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My stories
After The Bombs Fall
Maybe someday, you’ll reveal yourself to me; maybe someday, after the bombs fall, after the sirens sing out, after the fallout you’ll leave your shelter and speak once more
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- 256 reads
Double-Crossed
We’ve been double-crossed by the stars, the dice of fate were lost and weighted, you were born under a different sky, I was born too late. It goes without saying you can’t be bought
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- 275 reads
I am Silent Joy
I am silent joy, I am silent sorrow, I am what you have made me, driven mad in the silence. Fill this noiselessness with the language of angels, make me proud to hold joy, to bear sorrow.
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- 285 reads
Dance on The Graves of The Dead
Dance on the graves of the dead, mock their mossy tufts with the loftiness of love and lust and life, for they once danced like this. Fear not to be cast out into the migrant night,
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- 375 reads
Premonition of Civil War
(of the painting “Soft Construction with Boiled Beans” by Salvador Dali) mighty Colossus of flesh and brawn and tit of bone the desert sky does not pity you
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- 448 reads