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Click hereSee my cool, black razor smile
and Amsterdam pure.
Demi-man, dram of God,
wrapped in Paris cuts,
as I walk among swans
in a peacock robe.
Blending in, sticking out,
under starlight and strobe.
I am a slide snide copycat
in silver dollar shoes.
I’ll trade my body in for style,
I crack a whip for your fears.
You won’t hear me coming up,
coming up to steal your sighs.
Under Judas and gin,
you will sing your goodbyes.
I sold my brother for blues,
I’ll sell your soul for a ride.
And soon, pretty soon,
you’ll be bidding it high.
So take a flight on my
cool, black razor wire.
Such a beautiful end
when a life is for hire.
and could almost hear music as that poem played in my head. Something smooth and cool and a little jazzy.
You write great lines that I wish I wrote:
I am a slide snide copycat
in silver dollar shoes.
This is something slick writing. I likes.
I read your poem, and... it is a poem, right? I have no idea what it is about. Thanks for the read.
...in both texture and sound.
I don't want to be a broken record, so for my thoughts, see the comments below.