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Cliché
Power in words
can only go so far,
before you know,
before you see,
what seems and is,
and was never there.
A formula could make it,
a machine.
Is this poetry?
Or just words put
on a page out of order?
Describe a flower,
in breaks and with
occasional mixing up of words.
A pun or subtlety,
makes it good.
Play with words
and use the same cliché
as that other person
whose poem you read,
the other day.
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A minifridge... The doll house of the alcoholic.
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