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Monday 7th January 2008.

It...is over the festive season has been neatly placed back in the cardboard boxes from whence..It..sprang..those that have lightened up the night sky with Santa's dressed in florid red flashing condoms bursting forth hope joy and what ever else can be found at the bottom of such things..i take a moment to raise my cap, for the fortitude to brighten up the dismal climate umbrella, in my small corner of the planet these unknown warriors of flash who retro rocket in pounds shillings and pence upon the red bricked platypuses walls.I thank them for the joy,the up lift, as my tiny red van voyaged on auto pilot through the crazy street mix darkened by winters gloom.
The fatigue i felt during this time is ebbing,the ever running brook so made famous by Tennyson...

I chatter,chatter,as i flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But i go on forever.

Has babbled some softness, of which i am glad of in the harsh world beyond the simple glass window,not far from this blank screen i battle with daily.
So much has changed since i took that poem in a rucksack around the world back in 1991..so much.Yet tonight of all nights it has once more wandered through the anal passages in my mind.Fate..arrhhh yes...walk on the wild side.

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bichoose
bichoose

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