An hour of reflection minus images

First time I traveled with the circus of words

each one seemed longer than before

meaning got lost in stale air

once the clowns left town.

I remember standing on a stage

staring up at words stuck on a ceiling

like those in throat

as the critics booed

which made it possible to be mutual

hiss right back.

So here is, minus images

a reflection of younger days

when being not so correct

proved words were more powerful

than invading higher minds.

burn baby burn

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