pablo wrote
with a blade
that always cut twice
once through muscle
once through the soul
sylvia wrote
with a sickle
that swept the chaff
an uneven harvest
ended in tragedy
hank wrote
with a half empty bottle
one drink to remind him
of the good times
fifty to dwell upon the bad
i write
with a child’s hands
misspelled odes
and sloppy cartoon hearts
destined to malfunction
they will be
remembered forever
i am only as good
as the next orgasm
and cab fare home
as their words take root
in the adoring minds
mine peek through
the cracks on the
broken slide to hell
My capitalization here is funny. And unintentional.
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I’ll never tell
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I think you’re probably as good a at least a thousand Orgasms. Please don’t sell yourself short
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Yes ma’am. Grrrrowl
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Lol
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Barry wrote the songs that make the whole world sing.
Brilliant as always, sir.
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thanks Harley. Barry was a fraud like me, he never even wrote the songs.
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You are far from a fraud my friend.
Are you telling me he didn’t write Copacabana? That’s it. I have to stay home from work. Too devastated.
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I’m sorry you found out like this.
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Do you remember where you were when you found out?
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Zimbabwe. We had just hunted a man-eater. As per custom we offered the beast to Barry as we did the ceremonial Copacabana dance around the fire. Bob, the guide, googled it. Never been back to Africa. To much hurt. Too many lies.
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You poor poor man. I wish I could just give you the biggest hug and take the pain away.
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Thank you, Harley. It’s okay to cry. That’s what learned. It’s okay.
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