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Date Posted: 19:07:43 03/24/00 Fri
Author: Paul A.S. Rushton
Author Host/IP: dialup.212-140-75-190.tesco.net / 212.140.75.190
Subject: Daily Star (Part Three)


Part Three

The metal casing to my thumb,
She’s charged enough to strike me dumb,
A world of words and none to sting,
The symbol etchings in my ring,
A mist has formed and ebbs to dawn,
On mottled stripes about your lawn,
Where structured growth and cultured twine,
Aren’t sense enough to blow your mind,
And Mist she steals a potent place,
To shield the details in my face,
Where out of sight and out of date,
You haste a path to shut the gate,
And here the swollen, fatted past,
Blows smoke about your patterned grass,
Still in my heart the grounds are wild,
And here, the hide and seeking child,
Seeks hope that he’ll be next to breathe,
Float simple on complexities,
Burn chaff to clarity and light,
A phantom found to lift his kite,
He’ll suck the claret from your cask,
And set aside your tragic mask,
To fathom all your speech denotes,
From mist within the lines you quote,
Sit safe where eyes and night compound,
And nurse the knees of falling down,
Sanctified in all she knows,
And jacket leather patch elbows,
Gymnastic mind to freedom freed,
A spirit sought to match your greed,
An earshot free from tom-tom skins,
Emancipated time creeps in,
The soul departed in the lord,
The pen which beats aside the sword,
To heat the rancour of this dream,
That stagnant ponds may rise as steam,
And paint the cirrus canvas calm,
To keep the children safe from harm,
The algebraic codes to burn,
The twelve division tables turned,
No need for codes to life displace,
Or badge to boast a smiling face.

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