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Poetry #213
(published February 10, 2005)
by Papa Osmubal
Hold this sacred as the Writ:
when I am already dead
I would not want my friends and brothers
bring me crowns of flowers.
Nor would I want my enemies
pronounce pity-induced peace
and reconciliation over my wilted dusts.

I would want them erect for me
a rock finely carved with words:
sad words, honest words, angry words,
violent words, any true words from the heart.

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The Next Poetry piece (from Issue #214):

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The Last few Poetry pieces (from Issues #212 thru #208):

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George W. Bush (An Electoral Elegy Clerihew, runner-up)
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by Papa Osmubal

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