Blazing firestorms of thought,
Seething, breathing, still white-hot,
Erupt in wild volcanic rage,
And the words, now glowing red,
Like a searing lava, spread
Across the unsuspecting page.
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This poetry is posted by Bob's daughter, Heather...and on rare occasions by Bob himself. Please note that most poetry gets added retroactively. This can no doubt be confusing for readers, but is better for historical accuracy!
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