Type Typo

“Two hearts that beat as one,” I said.

“T-wo-ha, ha, ha,--two-ha, ha, ha, …”


Who many to fir your gum

at some pheasants. So

many true believers.

This is no game.

How manly to fire your gun

at some peasants.

They are not game.


You are not a hunter for food.

You(r) (f)ate and hungered for good


poems. The red white and blue lie

made you a baby faced killer. Rest

while the race is on

to see how many die.

Mark your time old codger.

This now forever in your head:

Shit won. And you, too, are dead.

Three of Spades - Vietnam Vet
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