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Rusty Broadspear

Too many truths
Fired with virtuous venom
By cloaked mangods
And too many times
Hitting target
Wiping drool
From smirking lips
As their stony eyes
Watch dominoes fall.

Mangod talks like taxi driver
As he walks and
As his herd follows
To consume his drink
Wear his clothes
Vote for his peace
Bow to his healing
Or to walk through his gate
For he is the sole key holder.

I searched for truth
Not blind aisles or alleys
I search behind tight lids
Diving down and with practice
For I feel I've been close
Will maybe see
In a tumbling darkened peripheral
Briefly see an anchor
To hold me safe
From mangods.

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