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Poem Number 7535
So close
they relish their folly a world unto them
of markets indexed lies and blind obediance
blood spills in deserts for a lust of crude
its inhabitance laughs at their opaqe vision
soon comes the fresh wind of a young hannibal
king georges court of fools relagated to crawford
to ply their wears at carnivale and sanitariums.
the end.
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