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POLITICAL RALLY C. ERIC LINCOLN The hollowness of what they say is the echo of the lives men live. Their word-facades are gaudy like the jungle birds squawking and clamoring for the votes of men with wits like bakers' dough, who confused and titillated by it all soon shout Hurrah! and pawn their empty souls. Promise Heaven with a bridge arching majestically across the azure sky. Far above the numb and colorless, the grey reality of hemlock-bitter life on earth where hunger is; and prejudice and hate. Where empty souls wide mouthed with throats dust-caked stand yawning in the shadows and the gloom. Despaired of God and meaning they wait as children wait —as if to ride some Eternal Carousel. They wait the frenzied vapors of the politicians to fill them up with rainbow-crystal promises 323
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