A alcove (poem with secret words)


 

Scum and vile cover my positions 

Big men on our stages are dancers with rabid 

Politicians cast their posts 

Kerchiefs fix our history in red 

****** Para¡K***** 

Our breads are sop with shames or we die. 

Prospects are hard to see. 

Winter flowers are dry. 

Not sweets are found in the painful seas 

  

****Dise**** Cupids got only one arm. Incomes are very hard to earn Which laws are basic to ask? . Who is the best clown in our all constitutions to enact? ****ARE end*** People s lives are fond of fish-man s knives Smokes from guns are too much for aromas Without sufferings what you look like? Lions in the forests but not in the cages are the true arbiters ******Life are***** Rich peoples have decks of moneys in their beds Boozes, swigs are some bats It is innate by god or our happy lives are innate by bad Vents in our veins are our cries of battles *****BAD***** To face our bad fates are to win China may got beautiful flowers in its heydays Maples leafs leave maple-trees by winds In farmer s farms, dogs rest on hays *****WE hate**** Some times very foolish men sit near the desks. Open flowers are dry in pots Glories need justices to descant Why not try to tamper each word of our chronicles by hearts but not by plots ***Despot¡K**** Knives are cold bloods or dry froze necks Peoples are playing the games of musical chairs Truths to complete a man are always in lacks Chains that knock the door should be the neurons that have reactions in chains ***IC..Chair..*** We need foreign friends besides our men Profits are to some but true to all that are inner Rainbows are just whips for menace Do all saints are really some innocents ***Men in¡K.*** Red buds are red General polls are people s powers in whole. Are we defy to the fierce readily Please stop those chargers and whoa ****** Red.. Who¡K**** Laws are acute but our freedoms are cute Fishes in oils pans are to be killed Morals or morale can be our cures Cubism bound their minds in cubes *****Kill**** *****The code of my poem***** Paradises are end. Life is bad, We hate despotic chairman in red, who kill. by cheung shun sang=cauchy3=laplace181

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