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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 09:36:39 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 79893
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Stigmata
[time] => 2005-01-14 17:25:17
[hometext] => Sorry if I've been a little weird. I'll be normal soon. I hope.
[bodytext] => Across the cross all was lost, a generation purged its greatest loss, up on that cross. Days are coming, worse than most, when we reap the whirlwind of his ghost. Riot good sinners of the night, riot the children of the Christian right. Right the Jews, the chosen few, pray the good lord is looking after you. Bomb the Islam, from here to Kirkuk, shake Muhammad for all he took, your lives, your welfare, your sons your daughters. Cry for the explosions, the martyred fathers. Crucify the agnostic generation that doesn't care about hell or even heaven for that matter all that matters is that cup of milk with prozac in the morning, the last sign of the early warning. What would it take to be a lost prophet? To spout the gospel and pay the cost, relieve them of their sins, nail me to the cross. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 43 [informant] => CodyJ [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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