Nine Pages Forged

One step at a time.

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Twenty’O’Nine, October,

Satoshi struck the match,

Nine Pages forged, now yearning,

For a future where we detatch,

From the vaults of printed paper,

From the frauds of banking lore,

Who sell us poison dreams,

Like a festering disease-ridden whore.

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An Ocean

of Bitcoiners were parted.

Mowing. Mowing. Mowing. Cos the grass is growing. Everything is fine. Cos the Sun does shine. First published on X

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