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Holy cross between your breasts, Where it belonged; you wore it like a crest, But your beauty I might never capture, Plain and simple, simple rapture. David Sweetsur gives us a selection of poetry spoken in a voice which is honest - sometimes brutally so - and perspicacious; he is deeply engaged in the observation of the world without as well as within - he is not blind to the darkness of urban streets, the duplicitous nature of politics and politicians, nor to the uncertainties of emotions and existence that continue to haunt mankind.

Produktbeschreibung
Holy cross between your breasts, Where it belonged; you wore it like a crest, But your beauty I might never capture, Plain and simple, simple rapture. David Sweetsur gives us a selection of poetry spoken in a voice which is honest - sometimes brutally so - and perspicacious; he is deeply engaged in the observation of the world without as well as within - he is not blind to the darkness of urban streets, the duplicitous nature of politics and politicians, nor to the uncertainties of emotions and existence that continue to haunt mankind.
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