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Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Doggerel's Whodunit

Rose is sore. Read
round her Miranda bouts
with two dribbling lips spilt,
she can't keep mum.

Violet sings blue
pulp in gory detail,
worried others might slip
rat-a-tat out.

Sugar makes sweet
drops for daddy D.A.
He'll dab her soft pleas, trade
tissues for grime.

And so do you
wanna quit with the stale?
Meat-grind us to where dame
Whimsy got oft.
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