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Image for the poem Fiddlin

Fiddlin' About // No Encore

 
Little did i know that i knew
so very little, & soon as i knew
how little i could know, the stink
in the swamp was rising in a
methane glow, (Little and slow
we'd have to go, going past
gone, then somewhat  more.
 
Little little was the pussycat;s fiddle (when for really there was no
                             (such of a fiddle at all a'loud).
 
once again, i looked so little that I may as well have naught looked the
                              least  fiddlingly of any (of 'em).
 
So what the hell can you do?  We've already fiddled while Rome burned.  
                                        
( Can't do much better'n that with a ratchet nor a pillow.)
 
 
 
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2020danbozakdkzk poom+picte 2020
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Written by dkzksaxxas_DanielX (DadaDoggyDannyKozakSaxfn)
Published
Author's Note
An Aging Cat's Music Fairy's Luck ran out today. No more that 9 lives shit for you.
Yo, cat, while we're at it, play us one of them heavenly jigs.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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