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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 09:28:34 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 155130
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Untitled
[time] => 2009-11-18 21:20:36
[hometext] => Just freestylin
[bodytext] => inhaling slow death i find rare relief when i breathe from my chest i tell myself i'll put out the light when i find someone that canf ight on my beside but until then i write about such a being such words to describe one metaphors translate to pigments as they enter your ears line meets line and turn sentences to ashes stanzas turn paragraphs to verbs that end up crashing poetry is the direction of the pathless the sound is the voice of the speaker images float because of its depictor a rapture similes suddenly become characters that run from descriptions to one state of being for me to share is a blessing even the heavens gods couldnt hear me now to car, to listen, has a chance of seeing please, keep holding on through the rain and the hell there is much more to me through scribbling to tell ears open and mouth open i expect a response [comments] => 1 [counter] => 199 [topic] => 43 [informant] => jasonspeaks [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 46 [ratings] => 10 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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