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EXACT MATTER Often alas, does the pollen of fertility Devastate itself, upon barren ground Often anything but, unfathomed agility So many gestures, make so many sounds.
Can four cornered people, have round table discussions? Why must verbal, extinguish sexual? Why must progression, be worthwhile of trusting? Why must reality, be intellectual?
What is the lesson, for today? Two drops of logic, in an ocean of time Or just the avoidance, of dismay? Whether or not, it’s some sort of crime.
It’s better not bitter, hence creating litter Always does baggage, encompass garbage Isn't it better to salute, than be a flag pole sitter Moreso deserving of, than giving homage.
Troublesome arenas, come at their pleasure Always immunity, sanctifies community Yet metamorphic passion, defines it’s own pressure With the drum beats of silence, malevolent in impurity.
A small child crouches, next to a stagnant pool The big bang theory, suddenly stops mattering for a while A tadpole becomes a frog, but never a fool Eventually the child, loses the smile.
All that is matter, always shows that it does The essence of destiny, is always ahead All that had mattered, knew what it was Still full of life, though suitably bled. ~Paul Thomas~
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