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a curse
for all aids victims
to use on god

by john g. hall


White days run red
undone colours bled
from designs flesh
unpinned by God,
prayers frayed
silence amended,
you lay threaded
by life and death.
Mobious going
straight, mountain
reduced to beach
forest solid coal,
human teased to
soil, lava fields
in bloom.


Sweet Jesus won't you
squeeze me out a life,
just one more time
like you use to,
do I have to pop one
in your golden ass,
say your prayers
to mankind before
I pull this disbelief,
you son of a bitch
you cock of ages.


copyright © 2003
John G. Hall





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