Wailing For Her Demon Lover

      It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure dome with caves of ice!             Samuel Taylor Coleridge Woman wailing for her demon lover, Not less than this the enterprise Every poet tries to ring from a holy instrument, Her body lowered from her stricken mind; The hailstorm of media’s ceaseless electronic bling Flashes in the rising

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Hippie love

  We used to love one another, and it was never wrong, no matter how much we shared our love with others and never kept it for ourselves. Our love was never a deceit, the less so the more it encompassed others, and sleeping together was never love enough. We needed more than that and therefore always gave more than

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The innocents

  We just refused to be part of it, the generation of the world wars, those who fought them enthusiastically, those who defended the bombs of terror balance, those who thought Hiroshima and Nagasaki were justified, those who liked the Nazis until they fell and then the communists until they fell, those who adopted materialism and sold their lives to

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