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message 3: by David

David Smith For those that were there and all who have served-then-now-in the future


Mutter's Ridge

what's in a name
simple place
filled with grace
a walk on Mutter's Ridge?

Sparrow Hawk fly high
India birds thrusting through
to where no hero wants to be

yet stand to side?
not today-
today we stand on Mutter's Ridge
a simple place filled with grace?

"We" are one on Mutter's Ridge
where no hero wants to be

Where God forgot his men
who stood on Mutter's Ridge
as others stand
where no hero wants to be


message 2: by David

David Smith NEW AVI-YOURS TRULY AS SIR JOHN FALSTAFF-THOUGHT IT TIME TO LET THE LOBSTER BOIL IN HIS OWN JUICE


message 1: by David

David Smith I feel the heat. They pass me by, a slight shiver, a glance behind, their skin crawls. Look at them, they do not understand.

Withered, the man was drawn up into himself, a mere gesture of human kind. If thirst would make me partake of this slight repast then surely there must be something that can save me for I am lost at the sight of the thing that lay beneath, but I must drink.

As passion’s early light dawned on the dark soul of my father so it had on mine. Age, not relevant, spiraled through my life, eternity cried the envious dolt. To this I laugh for eternity is my plague.

I bent to the thing, my tongue reaching, touching, starting at shriveled stinking mass. Eyes it has eyes, opened, sudden knowing frolic for peace those eyes did drink, for death this putrid wreck did pray, take me Lord, drink my blood for this I might live once more.

My lips so white did touch his skin, such morbid pus did wet my thirst that Hell had made this wretched beast to give me breath, Father’s curse, his blood, black cold yet sweet. Quicken my heart you filthy stream, mold guts upon my face, adorn this visage of wasted grace that envy is my only dream. Yet I must drink.

He lives in me this withered mass of haggard misery. As Haggis eaten on New Years Eve green guts bequeath eternal thirst.

Elwood Jake-I Feel the Heat


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