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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 20:29:01 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 150930
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => matters to us
[time] => 2009-06-22 10:40:52
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => you will receive yours it is rising rude sparing nothing. wandering before me I believed the crazy face so this is what I do. nothing. morning waiting. best write this down Asshat serpent. marathon tapper. push against I don't know. how to love the hole speech makes? poems are magically hooking one emotional experience away from crises. whistling an unloyal tune,. paragraphs loom getting huge. soaking up what reeks. talking up the wrong tree, hugging inward, floating to destroy your way in. ignoring your green-flag waving you bar king joke worker. there is an exit. Fate's clock, never generous. up at dawn stalking. chains break. back and forth comparing empty windows. I assume the hereafter as lost ammo willingly done twisting words pushed away. ears turn ink to pen. mistakes parallel to imaginary full. feeling tiny moments of aging a rocking chair drafted to maintain without pause. real thing searching. uncommitted memory of balance. who owns this turn? velocity may answer. its angle sliding a lonesome rhythm. circles vortex thick with witchs typing friendship energy. prompting light on unwise visions of questions never asked. light candle for the hawk sparkles ole man crow. black dog finds the lizard shadow-dop hides with squirrel. totems offer a cup of night to soothe the savage self. put this poem under your Asshat were it matters to me. ming 10-9-07 3:59 PM [comments] => 0 [counter] => 143 [topic] => 73 [informant] => ming [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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