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76 Brides of Gold Those fair ladies are gold rings on pigs’ snouts! Have they hearts? Yes! One you’d not plug with words! Shackles of sort? The Lord’s altars unchain And set the just free from their thorny lane; Thorny lane on which they’d see barefooted Me or you with their deep rooted hatred And flaming desires blown up in bomb blasts Just to spin us around and stop our last Word which must not swim out of our big mouths. They have bright light? Must we follow like moths? Their light of darkness we’d stay away from And rather they beat us their drummers’ drum Trashed in anger in their show of displaced Mine digging; yet, would not our joy replace! ...

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