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Cards (52)
spits like a
tamed cat
turned
savage
my name is
ozymandias king of kings
the
blood-shadow
stays on the
street
our brains
ache
in the
merciless iced east winds
your
bloody
life in my
bloody
hands
tackle looters
robbing a bank
i
wander
through each
chartered street
, near where the
chartered Thames
does
flow
in
every face
i meet
marks
of
weakness marks
of
woe
the
mind forged manacles
i hear
he lugged a rifle as numb as a smashed
arm
his terrors touchy dynamite
bullets
smacking the
belly
out the
air
a
yellow hare
that
rolled
like a
flame
and
crawled
in a
threshing circle
which had been
a
better way
to die
a
samurai sword
in the
cockpit
, a
shaven
head full of
powerful incarnations
how the
chimney sweepers
cry every
blackening church appalls
blind me to my own
identity
carving out me
history bandage
up my
eye
with me own
history
with
spools
of
suffering
set out in
ordered rows
two
vast
and
trunkless
legs of
stone
-ozymandias
and wrinkled lip a sneer of cold
command
-ozymandias
i gave
commands
them all
smiles
stopped-my last duchess
ranked my gift with anybody’s
gift
-my last duchess
nine hundred
year old
name
-my last duchess
then im home on leave but i blink
remains
slowly our ghosts drag
home
the bright filled paperweight-emigree
paperweight-beauty and decorative
bright-vibrancy and light
they mutter death and my shadow falls as evidence of
sunlight-emigree
sunlight-repeated
at the
end
of each to remind the reader of
hope
and
optimism
i am branded by an
impression
of
sunlight
the little fishing boats strung out like bunting on a blue translucent sea
kamikaze
we too learnt we had to be silent
kamikaze
spits like a tamed cat turned savag—
bayonet charge
forgetting that it pummels your
house
too-bayonet
charge
strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear-bayonet charge
juxtaposition
went weaving through the water like a
swan-prelude
a huge peak black and huge-prelude
repitition
take my milk for gall
lady macbeth
look like an innocent flower but be the serpent under th
lady macbeth
all the perfumes of arabia will not sweeten this little hand
lady macbeth
maps too the sun shines
through-tissue
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