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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:57:27 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 122464
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Mistaken Aims
[time] => 2006-06-28 18:44:45
[hometext] => wrote this while I was out...
[bodytext] => i couldn't understand why you'd raise your hand to reprimand me that was years ago but truth be told i still am staring blankly yes there's love coursing through my shallow veins i don't be begrudge over mistaken aims yet all the same it'll never change where we can discourse freely. while fixed upon these contradictions i'm mixed with feelings then predictions fact or fiction railed with restrictions of how it should be done. there was a time and there was a place where time would mend a charcoaled face i'd place a measure of some grace but who's kidding anyone? i'd swear by life but not in this house. swallow knives. wonder when you'd stop me. what's wrong with this, can you hear me out? i swear there's a point to this and me. you hear what you want to hear. i can't change prouder ears. you're so proud... we're so proud. one week of tongue in cheek then speak tongue shuts in mouth so delve to see that valiant tree rooting silence in the ground i couldn't be so dull as your obvious weather gone bad as such and such there's nothing wrong with not too much provided one is sound. hence opinions flare to arguments new minions can make the sacrament i'll just wonder where i ever went to impose positions strange. there was a time and there was a place where time would burn a new distaste i'd make some room to give grace but that would mean i'd change. i've sworn to life when out of this house. obtain a wife, wonder if you'd bless me. what's right in this, please don't shout i swear there's a point to this and me. you do what you feel need to do. i can't make you move i'll move. so proud... yes so proud. little's left in me to share things so you'll see there's no point in disagreeing either side of things when one chooses avoidance well my teachers taught me all the vain my preachers left to interpret pain with mother raving all the same as she does when i'm the boy and then my mind crashes to a wall feeling blind and feeling small all in all i can take your call that boys couldn't possibly be men. there was a time and there was a place what was the time, where was the place where i'd place a face to grace and imagine there's be less to mend. you'll swear this life is in this house. bemuse delightments, wonder if you'd let me. what good is this, the smart and the stout? i swear there's a point to this and me. i'll do what i can do. you'll do it all too soon. we're so... [comments] => 1 [counter] => 173 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Remy [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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