Spike
¶ 1
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Spike, spoke
to me, lying, on tummy
(me or him?), must be hymn
now he’s in heaven, havin’
fun with God : not Hod
nor Spurs, those curs
he said – or was it cursed?
so well versed, with a vast
vocabulary. Constabulary –
an arresting smile, attesting style
of mad manic, pure panic
but this Deity, of gaiety
sported, assorted
grins, for his sins
mocking, while mic’ing
shocking and psyching
genius, of our genus
but now I hope it’s later, rather than sooner
when I eventually get to meet, this extraordinary Gooner
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