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Her only flair is in her nostrils.

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The Flair Of A Romance

A new environment,
A new life,
A new heaven!
The flair of a romance is what i bring to you;
Like a stair case full of hope.
The flair of a romance,
Walking up and down the stairs!
Listen to the joy of a muse that i bring to you.

Posit,
Tell me why?
love from the Blue River where,
All the fingers are not equal.
Of the romanti night with the plastic,
Of the true love that i share with you;
'Rickmer Rickmers', 'Cap San Diego' and 'James Caird I';
She gave me the apple and i ate it.
'Titanic', Santa Maria', 'Chesapeake' and 'Bulgaria';
All the days are not equal.
'Japanese Prince', Alte Liebe' and James Caird II';
love is like the waterside beauty with a romance.

Let's sail on with 'S.A. Van der Stel',
The flair of a romance with,
Impressions from the sea of love to touch you all;
Sail on the Alster and the Elbe alike to gain a view.
Love from the Blue River where,
All the fingers are not equal;
A new environment is all that you need on this love.

The flair of a romance,
Life is like the sleepless night in St. Pauli;
The flair of a romance,
Life is with its tides to touch you;
She gave me he apples and i ate it.
To the four winds i do respect like,
The flair of a romance in anew heaven!

Love and romance,
Apples ans bananas;
What a day of joy to share with you.
A water source became a river,
The river later became a lake;
She gave me the apples and i ate it!
The lake became a sea,
The sea became an ocean on this love;
For the flair of a romance,
The birds sang for joy on this love.

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Charles Baudelaire

Parfum Exotique (Exotic Perfume)

Quand, les deux yeux fermés, en un soir chaud d'automne,
Je respire l'odeur de ton sein chaleureux,
Je vois se dérouler des rivages heureux
Qu'éblouissent les feux d'un soleil monotone;

Une île paresseuse où la nature donne
Des arbres singuliers et des fruits savoureux;
Des hommes dont le corps est mince et vigoureux,
Et des femmes dont l'oeil par sa franchise étonne.

Guidé par ton odeur vers de charmants climats,
Je vois un port rempli de voiles et de mâts
Encor tout fatigués par la vague marine,

Pendant que le parfum des verts tamariniers,
Qui circule dans l'air et m'enfle la narine,
Se mêle dans mon âme au chant des mariniers.

Exotic Perfume

When, with both my eyes closed, on a hot autumn night,
I inhale the fragrance of your warm breast
I see happy shores spread out before me,
On which shines a dazzling and monotonous sun;

A lazy isle to which nature has given
Singular trees, savory fruits,
Men with bodies vigorous and slender,
And women in whose eyes shines a startling candor.

Guided by your fragrance to these charming countries,
I see a port filled with sails and rigging
Still utterly wearied by the waves of the sea,

While the perfume of the green tamarinds,
That permeates the air, and elates my nostrils,
Is mingled in my soul with the sailors' chanteys.


— Translated by William Aggeler

Exotic Perfume

When I, with eyes shut, on warm autumn eves,
The fragrance of your warmer breast respire,
I see a country bathed in solar fire
Whose happy shores its lustre never leaves;

An isle of indolence, where nature raises
Singular trees and fruits both sweet and tender,

[...] Read more

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It's The Flair That's There

It's not one's style that corrupts.
Or what one does to give up,
To crucial benefit.

It's not the touches so much,
That others can't get enough...
To crucial benefit.

It's the flair that's there,
Offends and people perceive.

It's not one's style that corrupts.
Or what one does to give up,
That others can't get enough...
To crucial benefit.

It's the flair that's there,
That sickens weakened people.
It's the flair that's there,
That sickens weakened people.
It's the flair that's there,
Offends and people perceive.

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Ive Got A Flair

Ive got a flair
For pulling your hair
And making you crazy
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I do well
Ive got a flair
For making you care
You know you should hate me
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I do well
Well you know I never meant to hurt no one
But I got a knack for getting things undone
And I got a way of ruining your fun
All the time
Ive got a flair
For holding a stare
And holding you downtown
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I can tell
Well you know I never meant to hurt no one
But I got a knack for getting things undone
And I got a way of ruining your fun
All the time
Ive got a flair
For getting in your hair
And making you crazy
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Its something I do well
Its something I do well
Its something I do well

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If You Can Do Hair With Flair

If You Can Do Hair With Flair

If you can do hair
and do it with flair

Be somebody
Be yourself

Styles of an old rendition,
Adding to a new edition

Tints and dyes
For wows and oh mys

Braids
Weaves
Cuts
Trims

To the left
To the right

Curls
Swirls

If you can do hair
And do it with flair

Be Somebody
Be Yourself

by Alfreda Doyle

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Polka Patterns

Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Lets go into the bathroom
I know were in a room where you would not expect much math
Usually youre in here for a shower or a bath
But if you gaze upon the floor, and if youre kinda smart
Youll see the repetition is like geometric art
Wow, haha
Look
Everywhere, I see them there
I stop and stare at patterns
I dont care, I must declare
Ive got a flair for patterns
On my hair, the clothes I wear
My savoir faire is patterns
All I see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Hey!
A polkameister like myself never has to be bored
I just grab my ax and play some patterns on my keyboard
Nows the time for earplugs if you care about your health
So stand back, everybody, Im gonna express myself
Look at this, patterns
Ive got blisters on my fingers
Woo, hey, aw, get down
Yeah, help me, somebody, woo
Still there? okay
Next time you find yourself at an exciting polka party
You can make some patterns with your feet and with your body
If you dont know the steps yet, heres the gang with all the answers
Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the weird al polka dancers
Here they are
Everywhere, we see them there
We stop and stare at patterns
We dont care, we must declare
Weve got a flair for patterns
On our hair, the clothes we wear
Our savoir faire is patterns
All we see is patterns
The patterns that repeat
Wallpaper, skyscrapers, funny papers, patterns
Evergreens, nouvelle cuisine, human beings, patterns
Garden rakes, wedding cakes, rattlesnakes, patterns
Golden wheat, little feet, my heartbeat

[...] Read more

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Debonair

With your collar up and buttoned,
Struttin' like you're really somethin'
And that somethin' is cool.
With an easy breezy smooth.
That struttin that you do.

Aw shucks,
The way you move
Makes onlookers wanna drool.
With a mockin' of you too!
As they watch you struttin through.

And I.
Stop and stare,
Wishing I could be as debonair with such a flair to spare.

Aw shucks,
The way you move
Makes onlookers wanna drool.
With a mockin' of you too!
As they watch you struttin through.

With your collar up and buttoned,
Struttin' like you're really somethin'
And that somethin' is cool.
With an easy breezy smooth.
That struttin that you do.

And I
Stop and stare,
Wishing I could be as debonair with such a flair to spare.
And I
Stop and stare,
Wishing I could be as debonair with such a flair to spare...
To carry everywhere.

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Four Winds, The

"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"
Cried the warriors, cried the old men,
When he came in triumph homeward
With the sacred Belt of Wampum,
From the regions of the North-Wind,
From the kingdom of Wabasso,
From the land of the White Rabbit.
He had stolen the Belt of Wampum
From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa,
From the Great Bear of the mountains,
From the terror of the nations,
As he lay asleep and cumbrous
On the summit of the mountains,
Like a rock with mosses on it,
Spotted brown and gray with mosses.
Silently he stole upon him
Till the red nails of the monster
Almost touched him, almost scared him,
Till the hot breath of his nostrils
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis,
As he drew the Belt of Wampum
Over the round ears, that heard not,
Over the small eyes, that saw not,
Over the long nose and nostrils,
The black muffle of the nostrils,
Out of which the heavy breathing
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.
Then he swung aloft his war-club,
Shouted loud and long his war-cry,
Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of the forehead,
Right between the eyes he smote him.
With the heavy blow bewildered,
Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;
But his knees beneath him trembled,
And he whimpered like a woman,
As he reeled and staggered forward,
As he sat upon his haunches;
And the mighty Mudjekeewis,
Standing fearlessly before him,
Taunted him in loud derision,
Spake disdainfully in this wise:
"Hark you, Bear! you are a coward;
And no Brave, as you pretended;
Else you would not cry and whimper
Like a miserable woman!
Bear! you know our tribes are hostile,
Long have been at war together;
Now you find that we are strongest,
You go sneaking in the forest,

[...] Read more

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Four Winds

"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"
Cried the warriors, cried the old men,
When he came in triumph homeward
With the sacred Belt of Wampum,
From the regions of the North-Wind,
From the kingdom of Wabasso,
From the land of the White Rabbit.
He had stolen the Belt of Wampum
From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa,
From the Great Bear of the mountains,
From the terror of the nations,
As he lay asleep and cumbrous
On the summit of the mountains,
Like a rock with mosses on it,
Spotted brown and gray with mosses.
Silently he stole upon him
Till the red nails of the monster
Almost touched him, almost scared him,
Till the hot breath of his nostrils
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis,
As he drew the Belt of Wampum
Over the round ears, that heard not,
Over the small eyes, that saw not,
Over the long nose and nostrils,
The black muffle of the nostrils,
Out of which the heavy breathing
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.
Then he swung aloft his war-club,
Shouted loud and long his war-cry,
Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of the forehead,
Right between the eyes he smote him.
With the heavy blow bewildered,
Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;
But his knees beneath him trembled,
And he whimpered like a woman,
As he reeled and staggered forward,
As he sat upon his haunches;
And the mighty Mudjekeewis,
Standing fearlessly before him,
Taunted him in loud derision,
Spake disdainfully in this wise:
"Hark you, Bear! you are a coward;
And no Brave, as you pretended;
Else you would not cry and whimper
Like a miserable woman!
Bear! you know our tribes are hostile,
Long have been at war together;
Now you find that we are strongest,
You go sneaking in the forest,

[...] Read more

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Song Of Hiawatha II: The Four Winds

'Honor be to Mudjekeewis!'
Cried the warriors, cried the old men,
When he came in triumph homeward
With the sacred Belt of Wampum,
From the regions of the North-Wind,
From the kingdom of Wabasso,
From the land of the White Rabbit.
He had stolen the Belt of Wampum
From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa,
From the Great Bear of the mountains,
From the terror of the nations,
As he lay asleep and cumbrous
On the summit of the mountains,
Like a rock with mosses on it,
Spotted brown and gray with mosses.
Silently he stole upon him
Till the red nails of the monster
Almost touched him, almost scared him,
Till the hot breath of his nostrils
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis,
As he drew the Belt of Wampum
Over the round ears, that heard not,
Over the small eyes, that saw not,
Over the long nose and nostrils,
The black muffle of the nostrils,
Out of which the heavy breathing
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.
Then he swung aloft his war-club,
Shouted loud and long his war-cry,
Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of the forehead,
Right between the eyes he smote him.
With the heavy blow bewildered,
Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;
But his knees beneath him trembled,
And he whimpered like a woman,
As he reeled and staggered forward,
As he sat upon his haunches;
And the mighty Mudjekeewis,
Standing fearlessly before him,
Taunted him in loud derision,
Spake disdainfully in this wise:
'Hark you, Bear! you are a coward;
And no Brave, as you pretended;
Else you would not cry and whimper
Like a miserable woman!
Bear! you know our tribes are hostile,
Long have been at war together;
Now you find that we are strongest,
You go sneaking in the forest,

[...] Read more

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The Helot

I.

Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.


II.

Quench'd the fierce Achean gaze,
Dorian foemen paus'd before,
Where cold Sparta snatch'd her bays
At Achaea's stubborn door.


III.

Still with thews of iron bound,
Vastly the Achean rose,
Godward from the brazen ground,
High before his Spartan foes.


IV.

Still the strength his fathers knew
(Dauntless when the foe they fac'd)
Vein and muscle bounded through,
Tense his Helot sinews brac'd.


V.

Still the constant womb of Earth,
Blindly moulded all her part;
As, when to a lordly birth,
Achean freemen left her heart.


VI.

Still, insensate mother, bore
Goodly sons for Helot graves;
Iron necks that meekly wore
Sparta's yoke as Sparta's slaves.


VII.

[...] Read more

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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50

[...] Read more

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Roan Stallion

The dog barked; then the woman stood in the doorway, and hearing
iron strike stone down the steep road
Covered her head with a black shawl and entered the light rain;
she stood at the turn of the road.
A nobly formed woman; erect and strong as a new tower; the
features stolid and dark
But sculptured into a strong grace; straight nose with a high bridge,
firm and wide eyes, full chin,
Red lips; she was only a fourth part Indian; a Scottish sailor had
planted her in young native earth,
Spanish and Indian, twenty-one years before. He had named her
California when she was born;
That was her name; and had gone north.
She heard the hooves and
wheels come nearer, up the steep road.
The buckskin mare, leaning against the breastpiece, plodded into
sight round the wet bank.
The pale face of the driver followed; the burnt-out eyes; they had
fortune in them. He sat twisted
On the seat of the old buggy, leading a second horse by a long
halter, a roan, a big one,
That stepped daintily; by the swell of the neck, a stallion. 'What
have you got, Johnny?' 'Maskerel's stallion.
Mine now. I won him last night, I had very good luck.' He was
quite drunk, 'They bring their mares up here now.
I keep this fellow. I got money besides, but I'll not show you.'
'Did you buy something, Johnny,
For our Christine? Christmas comes in two days, Johnny.' 'By
God, forgot,' he answered laughing.
'Don't tell Christine it's Christmas; after while I get her something,
maybe.' But California:
'I shared your luck when you lost: you lost me once, Johnny, remember?
Tom Dell had me two nights
Here in the house: other times we've gone hungry: now that
you've won, Christine will have her Christmas.
We share your luck, Johnny. You give me money, I go down to
Monterey to-morrow,
Buy presents for Christine, come back in the evening. Next day
Christmas.' 'You have wet ride,' he answered
Giggling. 'Here money. Five dollar; ten; twelve dollar. You
buy two bottles of rye whiskey for Johnny.'
A11 right. I go to-morrow.'
He was an outcast Hollander; not
old, but shriveled with bad living.
The child Christine inherited from his race blue eyes, from his
life a wizened forehead; she watched
From the house-door her father lurch out of the buggy and lead
with due respect the stallion
To the new corral, the strong one; leaving the wearily breathing
buckskin mare to his wife to unharness.

[...] Read more

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I Am In Love

I am dejected. I am depressed.
Yet resurrected and sailing the crest.
Why this elation, mixed with deflation?
What explanation? I am in love.
Such conflicting questions rise
Around in my brain: should I order cynanide
Or order champagne?
Oh, what is this sudden jolt?
I feel like a frightened colt,
Just hit by a thunderbolt. I am in love.
I knew the odds were against me before,
I had no flair for flaming desire,
But since the gods gave me you to adore,
I may lose but I refuse to fight the fire,
So come and enlighten my days and never depart.
You only can brighten the blaze that burns in my heart,
For I am wildly in love with you,
And so in need of a stampede of love.
I knew the odds were against me before,
I had no flair for flaming desire,
But since the gods gave me you to adore,
I may lose but I refuse to fight the fire,
So come and enlighten my days and never depart.
You only can brighten the blaze that burns in my heart,
For I am wildly in love with you,
And so in need of a stampede of love,
And so in need of a stampede of love.

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H-blockx

Did you see my mother walking round the blocks?
Did you see them nasty boys looting the lots?
Did they ever miss you or did they even kiss you?
Or is the only thing you see britains milita?
If you smell that air
You can feel the flair
And the people that rock
Live in an h-block
Chorus:
H-(h)-b-(b) h-b-l-o-c-k-x - h-blockx
H-blockx, thats the name
We give credit to the people who can feel the pain
Of aggression, supression and brutality
Who live in an h-shaped home of insanity
If you smell that air
You can feel the flair
And the people that rock
Live in an h-block
Chorus:

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Rubaiyat Of A Robin - After Edward Fitzgerald - Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam

Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.

Repealed are value judgement and perspective
revealed through standpoint purely introspective,
darkside concealed of moon’s yin-yang shines clear
when we’re in orbit, - option more effective.

Rolled form performs rôle midwife to perception,
sprung tongue in cheek, tweaks sense of imperfection
or willingness to leach between the lines,
impeach entrenched ideas of self-[s]election.

This prose arose as stream deprived of section,
where ‘dip at will’ will still sustain inspection,
the current’s sense, at odds with current views
ignores round holes, square pegs, top-down direction.

Here there’s no fear of critics’ peer rejection,
contention treated with due circumspection
intention is to mention for retention
an overview or clue to extrospection.

Life’s curtains are a veil through which few see,
as many haste taste-waste eternity,
mixed up, ignore life fixes finite sum
to/through infinite opportunity.

Can “Truth” exist? all ask, who seek its core,
we, modest, etch our words to sketch the score,
diverse the verses which converge to link
reflections mirrored many times before.

Vast content, style, a while, united are,
aim at soul stimulation, nothing bar,
to pleasure, treasure, or discard at will
as minds outreach to other minds on par.

Meditating, we shed light on what
tomorrow’s tot may factor into ‘bot’ -
the poet’s lot, forgot, to help all think
ahead of time, enhance life for a lot

Some seek Nirvana, Faith speaks more than “how”.
Others reject Salvation’s wraith, - w[h]ine “now”.
Verifying facts? Inventing dreams?
Each furrow-burrows with a different plough.

[...] Read more

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This Stuff Ain't Fresh

This stuff ain't fresh.
Just restated.
Updated to give it flair.
The same minds will ignore it.
And the proof will be there.

The rhythm changes.
With the same words repeated.
The beat is felt.
With those patting their feet.
A monotony delivers,
An expectation.
Yet no one will listen...
With dulled sensations.

This stuff ain't fresh.
Just restated.
Updated to give it flair.
The same minds will ignore it.
And the proof will be there.

Unless I write something,
About a 'monkey's butt'.
Only then,
Will all eyes stare!

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Rock Me Amadeus

Er war ein punker
Und er lebte in der groen stadt
Es war in wien, war vienna
Wo er alles tat
Er hatte schulden denn er trank
Doch ihn liebten alle frauen
Und jede rief:
Come and rock me amadeus
Er war superstar
Er war populr
Er war so exaltiert
Because er hatte flair
Er war ein virtuose
War ein rockidol
Und alles rief:
Come and rock me amadeus
Amadeus, amadeus...
Es war um 1780
Und es war in wien
No plastic money anymore
Die banken gegen ihn
Woher die schulden kamen
War wohl jedermann bekannt
Er war ein mann der frauen
Frauen liebten seinen punk
Er war superstar
Er war populr
Er war so exaltiert
Because er hatte flair
Er war ein virtuose
War ein rockidol
Und alles rief:
Come and rock me amadeus
Amadeus, amadeus...

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Rock Me Aamadeus

Er war ein Punker
Und er lebte in der groen Stadt
Es war in Wien, war Vienna
Wo er alles tat
Er hatte Schulden denn er trank
Doch ihn liebten alle Frauen
Und jede rief:
Come and rock me Amadeus
Er war Superstar
Er war populr
Er war so exaltiert
Because er hatte Flair
Er war ein Virtuose
War ein Rockidol
Und alles rief:
Come and rock me Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus...
Es war um 1780
Und es war in Wien
No plastic money anymore
Die Banken gegen ihn
Woher die Schulden kamen
War wohl jedermann bekannt
Er war ein Mann der Frauen
Frauen liebten seinen Punk
Er war Superstar
Er war populr
Er war so exaltiert
Because er hatte Flair
Er war ein Virtuose
War ein Rockidol
Und alles rief:
Come and rock me Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus

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Added by Lucian Velea
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A Message

This is a message to Raymond Opara and Huseini Hamed,
This is your friend the poet writing to you;
So enter into the flair of a romance with me and,
Learn from my sweet mind.
Read my muse and keep on learning,
Like the Scorpion-Man next to you.
I am living in a land where,
Cell-Phones being used are more than the population;
This is a message to Raymond Opara and Huseini Hamed.

The beautiful and the prideful works of man is,
To be blown up by the wind;
Like the Scorpion-Man next oor.
I have news for you all,
I am living in a land where almost everybody does smoke;
I have a news for you all,
So enter into the flair of a romance with me.
I am living in a land wher,
Bicycles and dogs are more than the population;
So do walk along with me to learn more from my muse.

I am with you always,
I am the one who makes you smile all the time;
I am everywhere by your side.
Read my poems to fell my taste,
I am used as a tool to help others;
I am full of surprises and,
I am the man with many faces.

I am kicked about like a ball but,
I have no medals;
Stay on with my muse and i will bring laughter to you.
I am used as a leader to lead others,
I am used as a teacher to teach others,
I am used as a farmer to feed others,
A little token is all that it takes on this muse;
I will bring a smile to you always.
This is a messagge to you my friends,
A message of love that leads the way;
You are always on my mind in this struggle.

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