Mothballed mauraders hymn "Ave Mumia"
(the refrain's a swollen alabaster drone)
Sparrows shy South in a lopsided V
Bacchant at the very promise of
Soft, yperite rose
She's no albino poinsetta
From fragments and symbols
We'll assemble the Lord.
*This poem was written, in my handwriting, on a piece of tattered paper (that I found in my cubicle last month) sometime prior to this blog's inception. I don't remember what I was on about with this but I like it.
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