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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 05:51:16 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 150491
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => War Cry
[time] => 2009-06-05 09:58:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Flamboyant girl, eager like a boy cooped inside a school all day, Curdled to the break of dawn, war cry: Her gullet a dagger in the night. She wore a vest (to encapsulate the openness Of a ripped shirt), war paint smeared to The Sun's master rataplan, its beat so baritone That it could not have been more dignified (When laughter was quelled Successfully). And she could hear the school bells, Usually pastoral, Smelling like milk or gingham, Or madras on a good day; Not in that vein, She could hear the Sun's decibels Bellicose, and She stoked a fire, roasted a marshmallow to its death, Or as she heard, to a presage of Giblets in that carousel of life Gross debauchery) Played against the Indians In war skins, poached the rambling Stuffed animals: an exotic hippo and elephant, and when she did, When crossed by the teacher's word And lanky shadow, Cotton spilled forth, impertinent white, Or else parturition of the marshmallow From its seamed stomach, Its makeshift, Afterlived Tent. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 151 [topic] => 64 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )
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