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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 12-June 04:08:03 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 168621
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Weaving Stories.
[time] => 2011-11-15 22:50:29
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Once I let my fire grow. Left in a field of dreams. Solitude was the water in which it drank. Left alone to it's many devices. It became sand and sierra. Till it filled my dampened sight. Weighted down I roamed with atlas mind. Balancing darkness with light. Left to walk this empty marrow. I can't change what my eyes see This encampment now imprisons me Chasing paper is insanity. Now a part of a Forced society. A stumbling block of my lost humanity. I let my anger dance within my words. Weaving stories around tribal campfires. Whispering many differences to this web. Now it's escaped and is roaming free. Chastised with syllables is what's coming to me. More days spent in slavery. Behind masks of mediocrity. Just a font hiding behind censored black lines. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lostrelic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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