Poetry Blogs (Feb 2013)

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Served by the Slice

served by the slice  

this body, cut through in the redesign for a different life,

whistles a frayed remembrance leaving naught but remnants

when falling for the suicidal hiatus of a tethered tale


in these days, of the child’s exultation, sing your song

as a lyrical dog chases damsons and damsels and the first and

furriest flavour the dustiest corpse of trees; dark...

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Also by Paul Sands:

Illicit | Sin by Sin |

ageangerself doubtthe cult of youthwriting

My Favourite Cup


It takes years of pondering to find the right cup;

the right shape and weight, the pattern, the handle.

It is not just a drinking vessel

It is a portal to a world of relaxation.

Maybe I’m wrong and it is just a cup

but I’d be lost without my favourite.


She has picked me up when I’ve felt alone

even with her chipped rim

she makes the perfect brew.


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Also by Martin Bailey:

You will be mine! | Bright Star |





The year is marching into spring,

As bright soft shoots caress the earth,

The nettles green as catkins burst.

Some gilding for a greater worth.


Go count your money, grasp a coin,

Buy now your place in space and time,

Rise up your monument of stone,

Or walk among the sweet sublime.


Today I saw some ewes with lambs,

The raw wind c...

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Also by Ian Gant:

It | Dark Knights |



What heavy breath escapes you;

matted creature, snorting monster–

four legged man without woman

as master;

your beard twists of licked

charcoal curls; dark- rubbed

with the rolling clouds behind.

I hear the sounds of a wet chest

strained upon the muscle

of your front legs;

an intelligent mind, outside the materials

of a humankind;

free runn...

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Also by Marianne Daniels:

Thin | Infirm | body |

Corinth (relist)


love is for somebody other

someone with eye blinkers like shutters

somebody else whose skin has never sensed

the crashing of all its pores

the closure of all of the doors

the suffocation of knowing

now that loves snuck in

only he has the keys

and he licks at the taste of their metals

Never had to question 

the ideas come to mind

all rose tinted


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Also by Rachel Bond :

cacti plant |

Last Tat Session 2012

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Last Tat Session 2012

Today is the day of my last tattoo session in 2012.

From March to December I got so much ink.

More than you can shake a stick at.

Tarot card art, warplanes, poems and much more.

Not sure which is my fave.

Amelia Earhart’s portrait or my Boeing 40 biplane?

My arm gaps are full so I have sleeves.

Space remains on my chest,

time for t...

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One Single Wish (by Mel) | Autumn Lady | Goth Fall | Vietnam | MIRAGE | Bellyache (for Weird Harold) |

body artmy tattoo collectiontattoo session

now hear this


now hear this


in Zen they say there are no senses

so why then does this fish

smell like it does

if there’s no form then why

does this fish look so like a fish

if all is emptiness then why

does this fish taste the way it does

if there’s no touch then why

when I stroke this fish does

he laugh out loud and shout

see! see how we conned you?


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Water Underground

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See rocks when running

Appearing like dark blue flashes

Skipping over wet sand

When counting these days

Seems only like a daydream

When I last climbed here

Clambered over these rocks

Up onto the hurtful grass

The stones are dry and still

Cracked and broken in fragments

Shaped in oddity, left alone

Beside there lay the gap in earth


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Also by David Blake:

Seaward Citadel | Way Out By the Rapeseed Field | Angry Autumn | Castaway | Earth | Lake Song | María en la Roca (Sewage Filter) | The Dream at the Party |



Is there something about mid-February...

Some mysterious shut-down day -

That sees a poem disappear

From the WOL light of day?


Is there something about mid-February

Like a black hole beyond the sun,

While poems that come afterwards,

Are shining "two for one"?


Some poems are worth reading twice

Like a letter in the post,

But here is this month...

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Also by M.C. Newberry:


The Supermarket Veg Approach to Romance

Cor looks great

Nice n juicy

Nice n straight.

Yum – unblemished,

Will be good for me.


Yeuk – looks nobbly

Some bits are bad

Some bits are bobbly.

Poo – blemished,

Will be bad for me.



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Also by Dave Bradley:

Bedroom Tax | The 3D Printer | Cat Competition Result | Cat Competition Voting | In Praise of Mistakes |

Let's Get Fruity

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You are the apple of my eye,

I may be a wrinkled old prune,

But I am a chunky pineapple guy,

Going to be your top banana soon,


You sometimes are a prickly Pear,

And treat me like a raspberry fool,

I know that life isn’t a bowl of cherries,

But I’m your kiwi – oh so cool,


You are as pretty as a peach,

A lovely strawberry surprise,

A melon...

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Also by Tom Doolan:

Cereal Killer | Hole In My Heart |






We’re all going through storms,

From young to old you can feel the maddening -

Is this the insanity before a cull?


If you press your ear to the floor,

You can hear a silent alarm,

A variable bass tone resonating through

Our world,


It’s cold,

And the chimes from tree ornaments

No longer soothe – no longer imbue


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Also by Noetic-fret!:

Truth Hurts | Untitled | The Float is Dipping | The Naming Does Not Equate | Falling Petals | Mathematics | Midway and Beyond | The Intention Was All Yours | The Iron Cloth | No Gainful Loss In War Except the Feeding of the Purse |

And, naked

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somewhat after sonnet XXVII "Desnuda" by Pablo Neruda

And, naked, you are simple as a hand,
and smooth, and round as earth, and clear as glass;
your moonlit lines, your apple-laden land,
as naked as the naked, dancing grass.
And, naked, you are Cuba's darkest night,
whose starlight vines my tracing fingers hold.
And, naked, you are neverending light,
a summer-filled cathed...

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Also by Marnanel Thurman:

Jesse Boot |

Drastic Measure

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All through the fog there streams a truth in mind that knows short care,

When lack in youth brings on a yearn to take whatever’s there.

‘Tis not the care that is not there but strength of will to cope,

No lack of brain or sense of right, nor will to grab false hope.


Across your world it lays in wait without much chance to pounce,

Until one day it rears its head ...

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Also by Nick Clifton:

A day in the life of - competition | Gone |


Hiding words

Where do all the words go 

when you want to write a poem?

hiding in invisible ink?

maybe so,

there's just no knowin.


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hiding words

Frowns of Silence

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(So I says to Paul Simon, 'If you can use it, use it.')


Hello Spare Room, my old friend,

I’ve come to sleep in you again;

I prefer you to the lounge settee

For these times I’m sent to Coventry,

Never knowing what it is what I have done;

It’s no fun

To suffer Frowns of Silence.


In restless sleep I toss and turned

And mulled the reason I’d been spu...

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Also by John Coopey:

Tickle Cock Lane | Progress and The Diggy Box | The Plays of William Shakespeare - (or Where I Get All My Talentfulness From) | Our Gert | "PICK IT UP" | SONNET 18 |

stay and cruise


(a holiday in two halves)







Over liquored

Over fed

Fronded garden

Downey bed

Tiny sea-shore

Quite secluded


(And all-included)





In the deep places of the chest

Rumblings become manifest


And strikes the dreaded (rhyme–destroyin...

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Also by Harry O`N eill:

The anti - promiscuity calypso |

I am yours not a fate...

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I am yours not a fate,

You are mine just a date.


We would better say: Whatever?

Nothing lasts forever.

Life is worth living

without any misgiving.


Nevertheless I say: Take care!

In your heart be fair.

Though love didn’t come,

but you were a charm.


You were only my passion,

my confusion, my obsession.

We can not be together


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Also by Larisa Rzhepishevska:

I Love You | I Remember | An Idea | Real Or Not Real |



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His dog craps in my garden

to the sound of metal rock.

His kids creep round my greenhouse

scrawling balls and giant cock.

His wife is bruised and beaten

all around the fucking clock.

His preferred weapon of choice

is to hurt and maim and shock.


Home from church on a Sunday,

he has a bonfire burning -

pitchforking rubber tyres

and dead meat that ...

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Also by Ian Whiteley:

Soothsayer | Beneath The Watch Tower | Hostile Street | Gathering Winter Fuel | Angel of Mons | Composed At Braunau (April 20th 1889) | Club | The Collector (Roget's Soliloquy) |

666bad neighbourdevilevilharrassmenthouse sale

seasonal liaisons ( senryu )


So many a winter friendship
save but a few
thaw with the sparkle of spring.

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My first Haiku

The small pond expands
with autumn's tepid rainfall
In ice nothing thrives.

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Also by Alison Smiles:

Not over til the pinny strings ping | Falling partners |

Day 27 - Spring Already


Day 27... of my attempt to post something new everyday (which will explain the quality)



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Also by Tom Harding:

Day 1 - Mirrored Glass |

Forward Slash: "the weekend"

I want neon \  I want chrome  

I want car headlights, streetlights, puddles

I want loud music, I want it  louder//

I want chrome //      I want fluorescent pink         // I want inner city foxes and 3am

There’s a riot in my ribcage matches my feet pounding pavement

This city is mine.

 I want anarchy         I want a signal           

I want last orders

I am the ...

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I send a-hopeful-goodnight!

echoing up the chasmic Victorian staircase

expecting you to bring your high smile

to the bannister


the company you had earlier must be staying-

no response.


Jealous and with a small loss of dignity

I get back into the half cold bed I was hoping you would

half warm but more than half cavort in


continuing to listen


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A little bohemia in Warwick



“Remember these times.” Urging me earnestly

whilst you nuzzle my hair down there.  I dizzy and delight

at your glasses still on. A wicked glint behind

magnified - tantalizes. I draw breathe, thighs tense.

I protest “No, no, you can’t do that it’s the wrong time of….”


You can. You will. You do. Body squirming, eyes wide,

I clutch the duvet, horrified. Yo...

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Also by Katy Megan Hughes:

The Oak Tree at Hatton Locks | Extra Hot, Extra Wet, Extra Shot | Anthony and Katypatra |

erotic poemerotic poetrylovelove poemlove poetry

The One I Love

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If ever you

doubt my


look into

my eyes.


The sparkle

you see

in them

is my

love for you.


If ever the

sparkle diminishes,

do not fear.


My love

is not


Only that

my health

has diminished.



A little late for valentines,


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Also by Shirley Smothers:

The Emergency Room Visit | The Ole Fishin Hole (Haiku) |


ThePoetry Spoke February - Poetry Night & Guests

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  'ThePoetry Spoke'

Great poetry and acoustic music

This Tuesday - 26th February- doors open 8pm


La Gondola

22a Liscard Crescent

Wallasey- The Wirral

CH44 1AE (a stones throw over the Mersey from Liverpool)

Check us out in the gig guide...


Our Guest Poet

Ged Thompson

Ged's poetry questions life. Poetically it does this via the telling of tales...

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Also by Chris Co:

Wirral Ode Show - Open floor Night - February | All things considered | Life |

Mexico. 1970


There were rumours
of decimalisation.
A new decade in modernism
at Manor House Junior school.
It was the summer of 1970.
Of Esso World Cup coins.
Fools gold for heroes.
My Dad didn’t own a car.
My best friends name was Zolly.
He had a brand new colour TV.
A yelping dog called Bugsy.
A Jewish bosomed mum.
And Rosa taught me ...

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Also by Ralph Dartford:

This Family Life | On St. Swithens Day | Waterloo Sunset. Part 2 | Co Op Live Art Fiasco |

Chance to get your work heard



I am posting this for a friend of my hubby who has just started a weekly podcast. He's a good lad who used to play in a band with Mark so show some support and get your submissions in . It's mostly for new unsigned bands but they are looking to include spoken word performance too.




Hey folks

Blown away by the response from our first podcast. For those who ...

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Kate Middleton.........Leave her alone !

Leave Kate alone,leave her in peace,

As an heir to the throne she is soon to release.

To give birth to your first is such a strain,

Leave her alone don't disturb her brain.


Instantaneously admired,a star in the making,

In love with Prince William,the intense responsibility she is taking.

Compassionate and loving,beautiful and great,

Leave her alone to peacefull...

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Also by hugh:

A lost glove | Appendicitis ? | Hilda hath no fear | Barclay's in Bletchley-sliding doors shut on 85 year old ! | Sun or moon ? |


It’s not the same for banksters,

The real gangsters,

Never wind up in handcuffs.

Behind scandals, there’s board rooms,

And JP Morgan goons,

That don’t care if you choke on the fumes,

Of their cooperate joyriding,

As long as you keep abiding,


By standards they’d never live by,

Like eating a steak pie,

That’s 99 per cent horse and 1 per cent fly!


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Also by Wez Jefferies:

Close calls and near misses | The river | A civil war, where the mind is as powerful as the gun |

banking crimespoliticsrhyme

Baking bread in Birkenhead

Baking home-made bread in Birkenhead,

Cannot be justified.

I have tried.

Except in the unlikely event

If not paying rent

One has to sell the homely pride

Enticing would-be vendors to come inside.


Baking bread in Birkenhead is fun, amusing but time consuming.

The competition on this grey February day

Is Halo 3 extended play

An assault on a young boys...

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Things Half Said


Looking back over all the things I’ve printed on the page
there seems to be gap between the truth of what was felt
and what’s imagined
The words came while I was still questioning the validity
but what I then went on to feel was always with such certainty
There is a space between
there is a space between you and me
filled with things half said

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Black and White.


Black and White.


Gathered for a photograph in four ascending rows, and

guided by their teacher’s gaze, a class of vocal children pose.

All the boys are standing up; all the girls are seated;

variously polished, buckled, brushed and neatly pleated.

Blinking in the drenching flash they dim their grin-contorted faces,

bustle back to classroom tables chattering a...

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Polishing a Turd


Shite they say is such a dirty word

It conjures up all sorts of images

Brown, sticky and smelly vestiges

But can you polish a turd


I think you can, it is not absurd

To think you can make something better

To think you can improve the design

To think you can create something new

From something which reminds you of poo


It took a long while for ...

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Bury me In the Clouds




A person can change, right?
I'm a leopard neglecting my spots for sport
& shedding skin, trying to forget or misplace my immoralities.
I was born in brawls & cut from the knuckle of enmity
ended with a parting shot.
I've been loved, spat out and tattooed by the system you applaud.

Now I'm looking for a way out.
a second chance I thought was you.
If I can hold o...

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Also by Memoir.:

A state of Californication. | Hawthorne. | William, It was really Nothing. |

As it flows

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As the river flows,

This life source,

In  torrents swelled  to destructive force.

New paths gouged, etched against it's might,

Cleansing the deadwood, new life blooms in the light.

Debris swirls, caught in it's girth

reclaimed, broken, clambering for earth. 

An emotional torrent of change.


As the river flows,

This life source.

In meandering paths et...

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Also by Tracey Bucknell:

The Language Of Love |

Getting Frisked at Selfridges


On Oxford Street there is one of many

shops I've seen from off of the telly

I popped in to kill a bit of the time

I ended accused of committing a crime


Just because I look like a bit of a klepto

Shufflin' around dressed up all like Steptoe

Doesn't mean I'm going to cause any grief

And I've never considered being a thief


So aside from a few dirty...

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Also by Daniel Smith:

To My Ex-Girlfriend |



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Also by Cynthia Buell Thomas:

The Gay Dinosaur |

A story to the plants, that made them blush. Teaser

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I am currently writing my first short, 5 poem Collection of poetry "A story to the plants that made them blush" is coming out in summer 2013 it will be available from me at "Poetry, Prose and Pints" events or through contacting me. It will be a simple paper leaflet costing 50p with any profit going to charity

Here is a teaser poem from the collection and a ...

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Soul Music

Suppose there are souls that really exist

in eternity on the other side

where 24/7 evangelists

promise death to those who bridge the void.


Suppose them sitting in homes and cities

in their virtual, spiritual forms.

Would their ghostly, gaseous entities

risk it all for a stirring of warmth?


Suppose that a soul accessed a peep-hole

and observed you ...

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Also by Ray Miller:

Potted History | When I Was Your Father | My Favourite Glass | Wards |





You parade her photos before him,

proof that your mother’s beauty was not a daughter’s delusion.

Side by side in one snap,

He ignores you at 14 unlovely as a juvenile bird,

but ogles her film star pout.


So you are hurled back to that day

she bowled up to college in scarlet sports car,

snatching the gaze of the boy, who had replaced Donnie ...

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Also by fiona sinclair:

Bed Snatcher |

Team GUM at Riff Awards/Riff News

Team GUM are taking on the Riff Awards.

Step 1.

Like the Riff page here: https://www.facebook.com/RiffMediaUK

Step 2.

Send an email to: adam-ruane@hotmail.co.uk

Put forward Kris Fogg for BEST NEWCOMER.

Put forward Ushiku Crisafulli for BEST NON MUSICAL ENTERTAINER.

You'll see us both repping Riff at RIFF SURVIVAL SUNDAY - MARCH 31st


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ArtistsAwardsComedyCountryFoggHip HopIndependentIndependent MusicKrisKris FoggLocalLocal ArtistsMusicMusiciansRiffRiff AwardsRiff Survival SundayRockSpoken WordSundaySurvivalThe Five Faces of FulliUshikuUshiku CrisafulliVariety




Inflow of confetti, brings happiness and fun

Newly wed romance in the August sun

From the valley of dreams, mid the hills and dales

Azure the sky and green the vales

Tantalizing melodies in the afternoon air

Unaware of love lingering everywhere

Against the backdrop of a cloudless sky

The snow capped mountain stands so high

Infatuation or love? A beaut...

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Also by Hazel Connelly:

A Day In My Life | Rose Maloney | Untitled |

One Night I Stole a Purple Balloon


One Night I Stole a Purple Balloon

One night I stole a purple balloon

From a cheaply decorated nightclub

I was pissed out of my mind so it looked pretty

And taking it seemed a good idea.


When I tied it up at home

Like a child decorating for a birthday party

I did not expect it to be there for long: balloons

Tend to run out of air or escape when you lo...

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extended metaphorValentine's Day


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What starts as romance

Ends up as routine

With variations

For years in between

Anonymous cards

Carefully picked verse

Until you just sign

For better or worse

And each time you try

To write your own lines

You find out how hard

Are good Valentines.



Copyright(C)David Subacchi 2013


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Also by David Subacchi:


Liverpool poetrySUBACCHIValentines

Almost from the beginning




The first few times we met
Was under a crossing of invisible bridges
Watching the boats setting out
For distant isles,
Plunging our love
Into a monochrome
Of steered moonlight.


The first few times
Was buried in half baked clues
Pressed tight in your eyes
And whispered words
Sometimes lost
Under droning boats
But never your intent,



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Five Shadows on the Floor


Five Shadows on the Floor
Frank was a wanted man
He had broken somebody's law
But he didn't take shit from no one
Especially five shadows on the floor
Charlie and his boys were waiting 
For Frank in the corner of the bar
Amy was wiping glasses when 
She heard the roar of Frank's car
She got an old fashioned glass ready
Because Fran...

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The purple play

The play has just ended,
the curtain dropped
and the applause ceased.
One after the other we get
out of the blue theatre
of this crowded evening.
Everybody will remember
a different story to tell,
according to the seat
of their own
point of view.
And all of us will forget

something: a character,
a cue, the colour of a voice
or the notes in a gesture
we didn’t listen ...

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