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		<title>Mpotavin | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/mpotavin</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Mpotavin</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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		<ttl>15</ttl>
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			<title>My muse, the armed robber rapist</title>
			<description>A man tried to rob me and ended up shooting himself.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/1035761/</link>
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			<title>Every Breath</title>
			<description>Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean people are not following me.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/1035754/</link>
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			<title>Born Again Heathen</title>
			<description>Prayers scar these kneesas I lick the blood from your hands.I stole the solsticefor your party.Happy Birthday!No, you can't open it early.I put it in a box with hopeand a few other bits of wisdomI've found along the waylike,don't fight over the remotethere is nothing on.&amp;nbsp..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/275354/</link>
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			<title>Click</title>
			<description>Television soulburdened by surface imageryentitled to these associationsas reality slidesacross the bottom of the screen.&amp;nbsp;Chewcow-like entrancedthere must be somethingI can do to stop thisah, a sitcomthat's more like it.&amp;nbsp;I grasp but never holdit is my right,my..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/253531/</link>
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			<title>Better get more</title>
			<description>just playing with words</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/243209/</link>
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			<title>Snake eyes on the prize</title>
			<description>With well tailored congratulationsEd McMahon sits next to meshaking handswith amputated bandits,no, the other hand has a drink.&amp;nbsp;Satan joins usand tries to spread some Promethean knowledgeno one careshe should have brought an applethe bouncers wisk him awayfor not gambling...</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/243016/</link>
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			<title>A grave for the sun</title>
			<description>The ground is moist as I stab and twistscraping along gravel and rocksplunging forward to duelwith blades of grassripping through a patch of mossthat slides off of my sharpened point.&amp;nbsp;I hack through rootsdigging deeper, molding clayinto remembered shapes.I carve my nitch jus..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/228631/</link>
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			<title>A Little Diety</title>
			<description>We have built this indifferent godof stone and goldhands warn into gnarled fistsbehind barbed wiresharp and coldsuspended like my beliefa fishing hooksnagged on this reef.A child looks upas the brave new godtwists like a mobile,his mother grabs him by the armto dangle above..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/225315/</link>
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			<title>Woodstock 2012</title>
			<description>The veil is liftedand on stage the scales are twistedin an almost angry meloncholyProzac medicated rebellion.So it is said on my t-shirt,and enough water for everyoneeven the bad fishiesthat don't lick their lips to the taste.&amp;nbsp;Years have rolled onbaby steps of evolutionin ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/219283/</link>
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			<title>Mediacracy</title>
			<description>The strangled wheezing coughbuilt on children's severed fingerstake a pictureof their blood flecked black spitting lungstarnish on the divine&amp;nbsp;step forwardno wait rewindwhen asked,just say we're fineeat the cheese wizdon't whineto not support is a sinand that's how the ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/215319/</link>
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			<title>Tempted to never leave</title>
			<description>I inhale the whiskey on your breathyour crooked smile dances awaybehind the flutter of eyelashesand a final shake of your a*simperious you leave mecold and gasping</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/215315/</link>
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			<title>I would like to thank God</title>
			<description>Staring out the window like a TV screen. Was that Fire that she screamed?&amp;nbsp;Safe behind locks and walls or metal and glass driving too fast, the best in its class with an award on the dash.&amp;nbsp;Honking at Nobel who lies in the street, strapped with dynamite and a fi..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/210141/</link>
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			<title>Escape</title>
			<description>I grab cold fries from the bottom of my bag. My desk stares at the corner in salty memories, reposing to the creak and rattle of the heater above while the ocean still kisses my lips.</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/210138/</link>
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			<title>Revolution</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;The saguaro blooms then dies engulfed by a mesquite, smothering in agonizing moments under a slowly moving sky.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A ragged man hunches under the shaded branches, dirty tears staining his cheeks as I stare.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I think he is laughing, ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/210136/</link>
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			<title>Flying Rats</title>
			<description>I have become either pigeon or crumb, mumbling sour in booze and sweat. Sitting on a park bench Aqualung my friend and muse, have some cake, get a job. There will always be the elite manicured feet, and dirty rags to smear my windshield.&amp;nbsp;Everyone is begging for something..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/210133/</link>
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			<title>The Verdict</title>
			<description>The anonymous hero was thrown out the window to fall in a Roman fountain where the petty pathetic drenched in I and mine, dredge for penny feeding dreams, choking and drowning as we all go down. Pointing blame with hands that should hold heads above water asphyxed in God like d..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/210132/</link>
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			<title>One hope</title>
			<description>I hopemy words will sting you.A needle for the junkiesand we still live like monkiesthrowing our s**t aroundbound to this systematicsyntheticgimme gimmesacrifice.I hear its said,&amp;ldquo;Well, that&amp;rsquo;s just life,&amp;rdquo;as new horrors are bred.I hide in my bedinstead ofc..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/209983/</link>
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			<title>Merry Christmas, Give Us Your Money</title>
			<description>Heroes fallunder crumpled pages hidden behind the glamorous,deified and the inevitableholiday advertisement.Full of green plastic men boys really A bag for 99 cents and a note, Do not blame us if they break.Obesity, America&amp;rsquo;s secret dream rings a bell, dressed in red ..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/209970/</link>
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			<title>Everything is Art</title>
			<description>The red spot on white canvasevokes a bitter bile taste.I look to God, up on the second floor,Are you kidding?Disassembling this broken pocket watchthat replays the same secondtickbacktickto find out whyremoving every partexcited in this failure of synergy.God is still pointin..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/209959/</link>
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			<title>A plague of feet</title>
			<description>God f**k cream,before my will is gone.This final battlecryas I am trampled underiambic &amp;quot;I Love You&amp;quot; cardsand TV sized drama.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I shake and bakeinto oblivion,anger and a strangleholdto this precipice.Resting on my shouldersa cavernous gap.Impotentto ca..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/209946/</link>
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			<title>A penny for a thought, but I charge interest</title>
			<description>The podium is silent.&amp;quot;Is this thing on?&amp;quot;murmurs and camerasflashes. amida mass of yellow eyes,hungry and staring.&amp;nbsp;&amp;quot;Now I know that you allare looking for somethingjuicy, bloody and rawand I am sorry to disappoint, but barring a few minor glitcheseverything..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/mpotavin/209943/</link>
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