Poetry Blogs (Sep 2009)

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New poem: Sloppy Smiles

I’m not smiling because I’m happy

I’m smiling because I’m wrecked

Because for a weekend I can heal

The bleeding head from all the pecks

From the pecking order

I can cut the cord

And breathe with my friends

We’re not gonna stop til the very end



After party

House party

Couple of hours passing for sleep

Then back to the pub

I don’t even know if I’m e...

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Victory Gin

She rakes in her string, her birthday honeycombs,

with her scantily matter of apron, whistling grandiose soliloquies

to the moon. She eats phone calls with a tick


and sieves the words like gravy, oozing over

your plate; all fresh, all flesh, participants to this autumn

suffocation. She smiles when your belly


drags, your swollen head nestles in her bosom

and shows you girls in veils. ...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Wife | The End of the Affair | To Be | Snow | Walden | Notes From the Blank | The Silent Birds | Agnostic's Prayer | Happy Dagger | Lament | Dante's Goldfish | Besos brujos que me matan | The Fools Under a Hill | Back to School. |

skipping meals on the commuter run

i found a cornflake
it was on my skirt
as i boarded a train
and sat next to a man who was more suit than flesh
he moved as far away from me
as he could
and called up his wife
from his totally up-to-date mobile phone
i pushed down the compact table
the one attached to the back of the chair ahead of me
and i put the cornflake on it
and took a picture of it
on my own mobile phone
and texted it as a message
to a bo...

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He deals in fairy tales

He deals in fairy tales,


Of the broken and weak,

Of those desperate,

To seek an escape,

From their dim reality.


Come look in his brochure,

Glossy pages of shiny lives,

Choose your own perfect

Once upon a time.

You can have a world,

Where the sun always shines,

You can have your palace,

Your perfect love

Always by your side.


But don’t forget,

To read the small pri...

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Also by Jessie:

Hopeful Future | (untitled) | This is me... Maybe | Losing Grip | Parkinsons | Soul's questions | Give me flowers | Who says whats normal | My love | It's not my illness | Embryo | River |

The Painting (in irrational subjective style)



The Painting  



Black paint splotched against the canvas:

            Thick glistening globs

                        Stuck on red welter.                  



White goo spat from the flung brush.


                        he offered,


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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

The Peacock | The Rustle of Autumn | Three A.M. on an Old Computer | Wishes |

front of the queue-relapse

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line

I'm waiting in line



well this is a tine time to walk sideways......diff....h..............minkolew.........98)_


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Also by Tommy Carroll:

relapse | Lizzie by night | (untitled) | (untitled) | bloodburst | No Title To | brain hemorrhage | mind chin | the strangest |

Nude descending staircase : one for the artygeeks

so the phone rang and this voice

‘this is Marcel Duchamp’ pause

poncey name I thought

ladies’  ‘coiffurier’  probably queer with it

‘you are a model aren’t you I was given your number

by Peggy Guggenheim’

likely story I thought but I needed the money OK I said


‘I’m doing this painting of a naked lady walking downstairs’

‘I don’t do moving or porn’

‘no I’m a regular artist you may have ...

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Also by michael shepherd:

Deny it if you dare.. | The Guy in the Photograph | My Father's Plato | the Sadness of the Small Shopkeeper | A Thief in One's Own Home | The Prisoner's Wife by Mary Spain | Cathedral | After life : a sonnet | I read your poem | 'Young Musician of the Year' | Beloved Stranger | A postscript to Dick and so many | Dick Fozard's Wartime Navy Knife | The Couple on the Station Platform | Beyond the Cringe : A first poetry perf | Rochdale | Oneliness | Old Woman |

Moving Down the Line

                                                Moving Down the Line                                




Walking now,

     Walking head down –

Close to host of ghost like


            Yet only around the tired

Wooden floors of a rented home

As I’m placed unwittingly under

House arrest and I detest this

Passing of a wasted time,

Blinded by grey while

Rain slashes harsh upo...

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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Prayer to K-PAX |

Home Front (part 4)

Thank you for sticking with me, if you read this it's going to be some time before I post anything new, from start to finish with a bit of a break this has taken quite a while! I would love to organise a performance but I've no idea how to go about it, I imagine a friendly pub on a winter's evening, log fire casting shadows on the walls, a pint, obviously, beyond that I've no idea - anyone help?


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Also by Neil West:

Home Front (part 3) | Home Front (part 2) | Home Front (part 1) | (untitled) | Happy is the Bride on Whom the Sun Shines | Et Vera Incessu Patuit Dea* | The Crimson King | The Fantom Locusta | The Last Ham Sandwich | Dignum Laude Virum Musa Vetat Mori* |

A one night stanza

entry picture

You wake up and find it lying next to you

It doesn’t look as good as it looked last night

But then again neither do you

What were you thinking?

When you brought these words to bed

And performed such unprintable acts

But you know there will be more words

And more nights like this

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Also by Alvin Guinessberg:

Poem of the Month |


" Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around".~ Leo Buscaglia




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Also by Deborah Jordan Bailey:

Porous |

Driving about in London and Paris

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London and Paris, a comparison

So different, yes, and ‘Vive la diffé rence!’

London is many different towns, not one

Paris is more homogeneous, more since

Baron Haussmann tore up the town, convinced

That diseases and revolutions would

Be brought to an end. And then London sensed

It needed a similar boulevard

So creating The Mall. Though The Blitz scarred

The face of London, the money wa...

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Stand and Deliver.

Wrote this with thoughts on how to perform a poem/ or not depending on your stance. It's just meant to be a fun piece but might well be performed at some future date, unless anyone else would like to perform it in my absence.



If you want to look like an angel;

don't kneel down and pray!

They' re not after your money

and i am not 'the wife'.  So

i don't want to hear all about your life


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Love Isn't....



   LOVE ISN'T......

  Love isn't...a dozen red roses and a box of Thornton's,

  Wrapped by a spotty teenager in a hurry to finish work....

  Love isn't.


  Love isn't...a table for two in a dimly lit restaurant,

  Staring gormlessly at each other over the top of cheap red


  Love isn't.


  Love isn't...a large soppy card saying "I love you forever",

  And a £...

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Well Shod

Well Shod


Sign in a shoe-shop near by me,

‘Buy one – get one free’

Now to me that seems only fair,

Otherwise there’s not a pair.



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Sweet Sixteen

Here we are again,

were here again,

it's just hanging on,

just hanging on,

thats all,

just hanging on,

just hanging on






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A Short Meeting With My One True Love

entry picture

Emily shook my hand, 
a smile on her face.

She told me that there is a part 
of everyone that remains unexplored.

I dug her philosophy;
imagined atoms exploding,
then tried to force my penis 
down her ear canal. 

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Also by John Togher:

The Waiting | Conversations About Miles Davis |

Why is a Body Bag Black?

They talk of reason and the love of God

and the troops out there doing a wonderful job

They've got to be found, there's no turning back

But why is a body bag Black?


He stood on trial for the slaughter of others

They caught up with him and killed his sons and brothers

he fell through a trap door hands tied behind his back

They put him in a body bag, but was it B...

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Also by Brian Wood:

Life & Stress ! | I miss my Mum. |

Behind the curtain

In a land divided by mesh
Molten dew of the furnace,
Steel grasped by ember’d flesh.
charred thro’ bone, uphold the aegis,
Fists tought, body stasis.
Cherub busks an’ orniment dwellers,
Mask privacy of fortune tellers.


When is now an’ now is when,
In times we must make our own.
Acheive the status known as zen
To keep our repressive thoughts still sown.
Even then... we are still alone.
Land divided by mes...

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Also by Many names, many faces...:

Era | The consort of Vulcan | Personality |

The Poem That Should Never Have Been A Poem

I tried to Fight Death.
I tried to Breathe
The life Back into my Son
When I awoke to find him
Still warm, but gone.

I failed, and Death won.
For the rest of my days
That feeling will stay
With me always.
Failure, as a mum.

I Failed to protect that little one.
I failed and Death Won. 



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Also by Nicky Burrows:

The Revelation of the End of Days. | Reign Of Terror | Thanatos | Catharsis |


entry picture

They tried hard to emasculate

Those bastards tried again

To correct us with political

Aha! It was in vain

We stood erect, we noble folk

Rigid and firm we held

As slowly we took it in hand

And thus support then swelled

Back to the shadows spineless slid

By God they make me sick

Those that sneer, those twisted minds,

At my lovely Spotted Dick.

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Also by Christopher Dawson:

come sit on my knee... | Weekend Spar | Seaside | Scarecrow, Seagull, Dustbin and me |

Beyond the Equinox

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Beyond the Equinox


The land sleeps,

furrowed, cold and still.

Each field edge mourns

in widow’s weeds.

The flocks keep silence

on the hill,

while nature weeps

tomorrow’s seeds.



in golden cloak,

the woodland

whispers overhead

and through the mist,

like incense smoke,

sheds slow confetti

for her dead.


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I am the rose painted black,
and thorns are ready
to slice you deep.
And the sun dare not step
into the shadows
of my heart.
Find the knife ready.
I’ll bleed 
for black holes created
by you.

by, Melissa R. Mendelson

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new poem based on small PT boats in the Pacific war

lol in two text sizes, stupid!!:) anyhow Patrol Torpedo boats were used in world war 2 to harass and sink larger Japanese merchant vessels. a quite untold story.




Under a curving shimmering blue fish bowl of the sky the small Patrol Torpedo boat cruises over the gentle summer swells in the distant Pacific under summer skies torn apart by brutal bitter total war. Small PT bo...

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a mix of my poems, old and new and more. |

Dappled Horse

entry picture

Young boy on dappled horse.

Shining hooves on tarmac road.

Rythmn of horse, control of boy,

deep happiness of freedom.

Headstrong horse fights to break away

from bit, rearing and shying.

Flash of lightning eyes, ribbons of mane.

Boy and horse as mountain stream,

running together, tumbling into gallop.

Music of laughter and galloping,

they flow on through fields and farms.

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Warp, weft and cryptic.

These knotted streets,

Painted, Scripted...

Look up:

This crumpled mountain

Embraced by ocean,

Awash with the splashed emotion

Of those thrusting themselves

Into this attrition,

Battling the elements and competition.

Look up:

This imposing fortress.

Stacked bombastic monument of grandeur,

Daily announcing itself with noisy candour.

Whilst a washin...

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Also by Danni Antagonist:

for those about to slam.... |


At last she gave up trying
When the hassles with kids
Had become much too much
For one who'd suffered such

One lied for a living
Another was so butch
And beat up all the others
Her sisters, her brothers

She sank into such deep dismay
Receding more each lonely day
There was nothing of interest
On tv is all she'd ever say

No job held any longer
No more need to get up
A tin can full of lager
And a fag so very...

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Also by Dave Dunn:

Nine Eleven Tribute | Waiting For You | An Acorns Throw | Two Kisses |

"The Passing of Aunt Grace"

New show: "The Passing of Aunt Grace" with From the Soul Productions on at the Courtyard Theatre, Shoreditch 13-18 October 7.30pm (except Fri 16). Tickets cost £14, £10 concessions. If you're interested in coming to see it, email tickets@thecourtyard.org.uk and give them your name, the amount of tickets required and the date and they will confirm your booking. See you there! Alain

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Also by Alain English:

New Gigs |

Never Shag A Poet

Never Shag A Poet


Sitting at my table I’m a face in the crowd

As I listen to the words that are read;

The stories and the laughs and the horrors that I hear

Reveal brief but clear glimpse inside your head.


Loss it would seem is a theme that recurs

As each poet lets their story unfold;

In all of it’s guises, it’s many shapes and sizes,

Events are now painfully retold.


Death is t...

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Life's river, it would seem, has flowed too far

And on the bar, thrown up in wild excess

A mess that, once 'a life', now moribund,

Contrived a fund of folly unrestrained,

That earthly rivers, drained of fulsome flow,

Brought fertile lands to dust, where naught will grow.


It fell to man, this archetype to maim;

To claim the rivers his, to have and hold;

To make so bold that life...

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Also by Barrie Singleton:


Gringo on the Chickenbus.

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This is a plug for my Fringe show at the Ilkley Literature Festival.  It's called Gringo on the Chickenbus (ignore what the ILF has published in their program - they're idiots!),  and it's at the Ilkley Playhouse on Tuesday 6th October ,  9pm.  Admission free.  Look on the gig guide for a map.

It's a one-man show,  mostly poetry with a lot of  bouncing about and a song thrown in,  and some lovely...

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The Sausage Roll Kid 1973

It’s a Friday. A February morning in 1973. I am a ten year old boy, excited to a twitch. The sun shines and there’s frost on the windows. There is quiet all around, but I am wide awake because this will be my best day. I know that everyone, here in this house, my Mum, Dad and older brother Roger are fast asleep and still. That the whole town of Basildon is snoring. I like it. I like it lots.


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Losing interest

(This is a satirical poem on increased dependence of the internet in the past decade or so.)


Some years ago,

I would open a book,

Regardless of width, regardless of breadth,

I would read as by the hours played,

And without a break, none would be left,

I would finish it that very day.


But now that I'm older,

So much has changed,

I can't find the passion, I can't find the moti...

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entry picture


I discovered the wild green plum

down the lane, where the horse's run

rolls the clay to a chocolate base,

Turning features on the face

of fertile wet earth dust

on her bulging bee-yeast crust,

and the creamy custard sky

tops a bramble plum-filled pie.


Here the spikey blackthorns reach

to the haw, to the oak, to the beech,

While their tarty indigo sloes

top the gentle-fruit of the ...

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Advice to Peter Andre on Marketing

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Peter Andre is launching a fragrance
To get over his marital crisis
He doesn't know what to call it-
My suggestion is "Priceless".

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The Chase

I indulge in your aroma with it's soft subtle spice
An I savor your energy with my light off at nights 
I admire your life and the way that you live with it
I cherish your time like I'm living my very last minute
I adore the moment your refraction catches my eyes   
I appreciate your honesty when you tell your friends white lies   
I delight in your posture as you listen with attention 
I dote on you...

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Also by Mike Anthony:

To Touch | Beer Fairy | No Need for | Pen Pal |

Scar Tissue

Sometimes there are voices

right inside my head

reminding me of mistakes I made

and things better left unsaid


The voices keep on calling me

right deep down in my soul

messages of taunting torture

starting to take their tole


They send me in the wrong direction

down a one way street

so clear to me that I can't help talking

to the ghosts there that I meet


when I was sixteen, sev...

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Also by Bucket:

How happy could we be? | Everyday Fairytale | Too Close To Home | Expectations | My Dr makes me sick | Cyril | Quick Love | (untitled) | (untitled) |




Eek, she made a squeak

Me, stunned

A little pink wrinkly, wriggly eek

Precious?, not even close


Feet touch the ground , no

Wrestle a Tiger , yes

Walk through a wall , easy

Hold this beautiful eek , terrified


Laugh ,cry, shout, jump, explode, together


A little eek, a little girl

I like eek it suits her.

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Also by Spencer Robertshaw - 07703 558825:

Childrens Hour | Soldiers End | DIRTY DANCING | Jack and Jill | Deep Waters | THE LIST | Detox |


entry picture


Co- written with Mike Anthony. (Not about each other. Mike is keen that the man in the photo is credited for the loinal yearning, execution and emotional seepage during his act of genital frotage, that fuelled his input to the poem. I however would like to thank childhood rejection from 'soul singer' Montel Jordan in Harpurhey market, for wrecking my head and making me hear, think, talk and ...

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Also by Mia Darlone:

Punanis, Peckers and Poems |

Light bends

Light bends


Can you hear that rumbling?

Four in the morning and the boiler’s clearing its throat

Pipes tap-tapping, rapping on old joists

Laddered padding long since worn

Round metal that crosses buried crosses

Beneath well-weathered floorboards


Daylight’s been out all night

And now rattles round the window

Stretches itself around the curtains

A vampire victim of the night bus


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early evening, early autumn glow

            as mersey mist descends

bright as mid summer but fresh

21st century silhouettes


like a new start


smoke rises on the water

21st century sounds



i'm no longer the rural riddle

and i don’t miss it… much

this is the new start


and looking out onto early evening

mersey mist


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Also by Lydia:

First Above All Else | Ideal | My Liverpool | Dad | Very Soon | The Alarm Rang | Nickelodeon Generation |

No pankies

We like each other

but our friendship

is a hanky-panky free zone

No hankies

and definitely no pankies

She's retaining her panties


We trust each other

and our friendship

is a lust-free zone

No lust

I'm not after her bust

We've got it sussed


My friend is great

And our friendship

Is a cherish-filled zone

She is lovely

But no more than cuddly

Making each other feel bubbly



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Also by Dave Bradley:

Why beach glass reminds me of Stan |

Rollercoaster Mind

Writing just to find a way,
to make sense of the thoughts that sway 
around my rollercoaster mind.
Fighting against the prey, 
of doubt that just eat's away 
and keeps me on rewind.

Writing while all the kids play 
games on another sunny day. 
But my rollercoaster mind, 
keeps me on the fence today, 
wondering just what to say 
and I leave myself behind.

Writing while I'm upside down 
helps me cope with the me...

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Letters of alliteration littering my mind

Sounds of assonance go ouch upon my brow

Words go swimming upon a written line

End line rhyming: how but why not now?


Stressed out syllables stretch out across the page

Partial rhyming with no real meaning

Patterns emerge within the written word


Rules of language in poems can be bend

Rhyming couplets get there in the end

And now I hope to en...

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Lest we forget

entry picture

Fighting fist

Palmed punch

Match lit

War struck


Helping hand

Friendly face

Wounded soldier

Fall from grace


Rules set

Now broken

Limbs lie

Shattered lives


Fighting talk

Vultures stalk

Memories fade

Mighty fall

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Also by Cat P:

Limerick | Behind closed doors | That cough |

Here is a playlist of my latest poems posted on YouTube

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Attack of the heart

Attack of the heart

Some people think it’s great

Some people think its fine

To have a heart like mine

That makes me do what is right

 So I always end up in a good light

they don’t know that sometimes its a curse

and it does nothing to fill my wallet

to buy ethical brands

don’t these people understand?

that when my heart attacks and rules my head

that ...

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Also by Daniel Hooks:

The Pretender | I am the fly in your ointment |





Fried garlic, lemon, sea-salt on the air,

Coffee brewing , sunlit room , morning, you, there.!

Black curls glistening, wet from ocean rush,

Fiery droplets  your body spangle, as  in naked hush

You go to the window,   step slow and certain,

And across  the blazing blue ,draw a bamboo curtain.


Shadows stripe and tiger us,  to the narrow bed

We stalk,   no sign giving ...

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Kinsella ( parts v and vi )

Introduction:- Kinsella undaunted, roams the cave of chambers. Searching for enchantment in her comfort zone, decides to face her fears.


(v) Kinsella's Renewal and Restoration.


Kinsella undaunted - opens the door to  'Gloom!'

Fumbles in darkness!

Grumbles in fright as obstacles blur her vision.


Comforted by a guiding light in her peripheral sight

she gathers the remains of her coura...

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Final Moments

Close your eyes mamma it's late

I will stay with you til morning

It's role reversal so it seems

Crept up on us without a warning


Pull the covers up it's cold

I will hold you don't you worry

I need you here so don't let go

hang on! there's no need to hurry


Remember back when I was small

You would push me send my flying

and here I am grown up and tall

lying beside you dying, crying


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