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babycakes

weep little sweet
the poisons in the treat
that ol junkdogs in heat
cause shes the bitch
that bites the witchs
thats serves the snitchs

and in her soiled knuckel locked
holster
is the courage feist that bolsters
slick eyed race
that cuts a trace

babycakes
gurl
you done gone
and set this town
awhirl

Editing stage: 

Comments

I don't know what to say. A successful experiment, a good poem.

Better than that... I know! You are telling a story, in your own inimical way! Woohoo, unusual for you.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
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yes..this is correct Elf!

author comment

Oh the doggie girl
the sandwich
and the sweet candied thoughts
with underskirt currents
and poisoned with witches knuckles
feisted, lurched,

what was that,
passing between us there?
I didn't see.

Nordic in a cloud

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

magic in the sleight of this
the slate of fog
and its misted breath
written on silver backed meaning.....

author comment
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