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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 19:09:40 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 106096
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => wire feathers aren't enough.
[time] => 2005-09-20 19:33:17
[hometext] => Written September 19, 2005; fun with sounds.
[bodytext] => Flutter and flap. Flutter and flap. Flutter (bump) clap. Flutter (bump) clap. It’s cold on Sunday mornings, like falling dominoes and putrefying hyenas. She can tell it’s going poorly already. Snip-snap, ka-boom. Snip-snap, ka-boom. Tumbling like a buckled goat down the mountain Jagged and icy, it’s sweet… like death. Pish-tosh! No worse than fungus and mould. Overpopulated and swaying – how weak your patchwork seems to be. Don’t query my fire; it chimes like war drums Echoing in the valley of lilies and unsewn dolls With subdued lips and unsighted eyes. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Unsubstantiated fetish; one lump or two? Squeal like a pig and maybe get your cookie Or maybe I’ll leave you abandoned in a factory – whatever the pen wants, it gets. It isn’t my idea, I swear. Plip-drip-droop. Plip-drip-droop. Her words are melting away; her muse has taken over. I’m so sorry, we’ve lost her. You can see it in her aura – tainted by the world of her words. Infected by the myth of imagination – she’s armed and dangerous. And she knows you love it. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 154 [topic] => 49 [informant] => blackmarker [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => mystical )
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