Poem -

CHINOOK

CHINOOK

Warm winds melt old snow.

Melting snow become icy flows.

Icy flows blue and cold.

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Poem -

Lost Shapes And Broken Lines

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Wasted souls in a vast domain.
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Poem -

Murder

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Murder is a quiet religionist.
Bullet to the head on a July night.
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No Hope

No Hope

Black are our lost souls.
Evil has us in it's grasp.
Painful is our night.

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